Marcaus's POV
The city was alive with movement as I gripped the steering wheel of my matte-black Audi R8, engine humming like a predator beneath me. I didn't bother with music; the soft rumble of the engine was enough to drown the noise of Manila's morning chaos.
Students filled the gates of De La Salle University like ants swarming from their nests—some stepping out of luxury SUVs, others hopping off motorbikes or squeezing out of Grab rides.
I arched a brow behind my sleek sunglasses as I pulled into the exclusive parking lot. The usual crowd threw glances my way—some admiring, some jealous—but no one was brave enough to approach.
I was used to it. I carried myself like royalty—not just because I was the son of a business tycoon or because my last name carried weight across countries.
No.
I, Marcaus Schumacher demanded attention with nothing but a glance.
As I walked past the crowds, I slipped one hand into my pocket, my custom DLSU blazer slung casually over my shoulder.
My vibe?
Cool and dangerously handsome.
The kind of guy who could freeze a hallway with a single stare and heat up a dance floor with just a smirk.
As I neared the shaded bench area behind the main courtyard—our usual hangout spot—I saw familiar faces.
There was Renzo, leaning against the railing and scrolling through his phone, while Damian sat cross-legged on the bench, tossing a stress ball from hand to hand.
"Look who finally decided to grace the school with his buzz cut," I said coolly, dropping my bag beside the bench.
I raised a brow at Renzo's freshly shaved head. "You look like a bald uncle who drives a tricycle for part-time."
Renzo groaned. "Bro, I lost a bet, okay? This wasn't voluntary."
Damian burst out laughing. "He had to shave it after losing to his cousin in Mobile Legends. Man of his word, though."
I smirked as I sank onto the bench with a lazy sprawl. "Rough way to start the semester."
We talked casually, catching up on our breaks. Damian bragged about his solo backpacking trip through South Korea, while Renzo grumbled about being stuck in Baguio with his entire extended family.
Me? As usual, I kept my stories to a minimum, though my break had been full of business meetings, yacht parties, and secret flings.
We were still talking, when suddenly it went silent.
The air shifted. Silence fell—but not the empty kind. The commanding kind.
It was as if someone hit a mute button. Conversations died. Eyes turned.
I looked up.
Four girls entered the corridor like a slow-motion scene from a movie. Not a word left their lips, but their presence screamed power. Each step they took echoed with confidence, precision—like they owned the ground they walked on.
They wore civilian clothes, but somehow made them look like they belonged on a runway. Their hair moved perfectly with the courtyard breeze, and not one of them faltered under the weight of dozens of stares.
It wasn't just their beauty—it was the aura. Cold, untouchable, like shadows wearing perfume.
I narrowed my eyes behind my shades. "Who the hell are they?"
Damian let out a low whistle. "No idea, but... damn. They don't look like transfer students. They look like they run this school."
Even Renzo stopped scratching his head. "One of them looked this way. I swear I stopped breathing."
I didn't move. One of the girls—tall, elegant, eyes like razors—locked eyes with me for a split second. My breath caught. Just for a moment. But I masked it. Like I always do.
Something stirred in me. I couldn't explain it, but I knew one thing for sure:
This semester wasn't going to be normal.