Today is my first day at a school in Thailand. I hope things turn out well—or at least don't get worse. Honestly, I'm not here to make friends or ace exams. I'm here for one reason and one reason only: revenge.
Maybe I should stop thinking about that for a moment. Take a breath. Focus on the now.
No more doubts. Time to step inside and face whatever comes next.
Tawan International School.
The name sounds strong—almost like a challenge. I don't know what "Tawan" means, but it doesn't matter. It feels powerful, like it's daring me to prove myself.
I'm here, about to step into the building. But before that, I silently pray to God for things to go well. I don't want to lose my temper here too.
Wait, why am I so negative? Chill out, Charvi. School's gonna be just fine.
"Hello! Can I know where Grade 12, Section B is?" I ask the receptionist. She politely points me toward the classroom.
I walk slowly in that direction. Confidence starts to build in me, and those mafia vibes return, replacing my nervousness.
I enter the class. It's quite early, and students are gathered in groups, greeting each other. I sit at the last bench, put on my headphones, and lie down.
Suddenly, everyone's phones buzz with a notification, and they all rush downstairs. I don't care much, but I'm curious—so I go and check. Five boys have just arrived. I recognize one of them—Niran Phanichkul. He holds the record for the Youngest Trillionaire. I wonder why they're here, but I'm too lazy for all that, so I walk back to the classroom.
At midday, after lunch, I walk up to the rooftop. I start sketching a portrait of one of my favorite anime character, Keisuke Baji.
Surprisingly, Niran Phanichkul is also there. He walks over and says,
"Hi, I'm Nin. I guess you already know me."
I didn't expect the youngest trillionaire to be so kind—and actually talk to me.
"Hi, I'm Charvi," I reply.
"You don't sound Thai. Where are you from?" he asks.
"I'm from India. It's my first day at this school," I say. "Are you really the Youngest Trillionaire?"
"I guess you know me like that," he says with a little smile. "And yeah, I am. What brings you to Thailand?"
"Let's just say... unfinished business," I reply.
"May I ask, what kind?"
"All I can say is—it's my work. And I'd rather not traumatize anyone else," I say coolly. "By the way, are you always this easy to approach, or is it just with me now?"
"I wouldn't say I'm easy to approach," he says. "But I am with people who have the same taste as me. Not many come to the rooftop—it's my favorite place in school. But seeing you here... I feel like maybe you do."
A pause. Then he asks me:
"Would it be alright if I asked for your number?"
"I'm fine with it. But are you sure?" I ask.
"It's pretty clear I don't have a reason to back down."
"But... you're a trillionaire."
"And I'm still human."
"Fair enough," I say, handing him my phone. "Here. Add your contact."
He types something in, then hands it back
"I saved it as Nin—my nickname. That okay?"
"Yeah, cool," I say, taking my phone back. "
"You're sharper than most people I meet."
"I get that a lot," I reply with a smirk.
There's a brief silence, not awkward, just… calm. The breeze brushes past us, flipping the page of my sketchbook.
"You draw really well," Nin says, glancing at my sketch. "Is that… Manjiro Sano?"
My eyes widen slightly. "You know Tokyo Revengers?"
"Of course. I'm rich, not boring," he grins.
That earns a chuckle from me. "Okay, fair."
He leans against the railing, eyes on the horizon. "You know… most people act weird around me. Fake. Like they're trying to impress me or sell themselves. But you… you're just being you."
"Why would I try to impress someone I barely know?" I shrug. "You're just a guy who happens to own a few zeroes."
"A few?" he says, pretending to be offended. "Charvi, you wound me."
"Guess you'll survive," I smirk.
He nods, amused. "I like your style."
I look at him for a second. There's something different about him. Not just the fame. It's in the way he carries himself—confident, but not arrogant.
Before I can say anything else, the bell rings in the distance.
"Back to class," I mutter, closing my sketchbook.
"See you around, Charvi," Nin says, walking a few steps ahead, then pausing to glance back. "And hey… if you ever want to talk about that 'incomplete business' of yours… I'm all ears."
I just give him a small nod.
We walk away.
Why does it feel… different speaking to him?