The room was still dim. Tall, curtainless windows couldn't hold back the morning light that crept into the small, box-like space. In the corner—more like a forgotten storeroom than a proper bedroom—a lazy young man named Al lay sprawled on a shaggy carpet. His hair was messy, his cheek pressed against a backpack he used as a pillow, and one of his legs had gone numb.
Quiet. Still. Peaceful.
GRAAARR—GRAAARR!!
The thunder-like ringtone of a black phone buzzed loudly on the floor next to where Al was sleeping. One eye cracked open in alarm as he hissed,
"Ugh... that ringtone again…"
He picked up the phone, and instantly, the drowsiness vanished like mist swept away by a storm. That ringtone wasn't just for anyone. Only select individuals—so rare even in the underground world—were assigned that tone. People whose names weren't known… except by those who absolutely needed to know.
Al didn't speak immediately. He simply pressed the phone to his ear while slowly sitting up, grimacing as pins and needles pricked his numb leg. There was no conversation—just a long… very long monologue from the other end.
He listened. Quietly. For a long, long time.
Then he finally spoke.
"All right."
A few seconds of silence followed.
Then he exhaled softly, smiling faintly.
"…Take care, all of you."
Click.
The call ended. Al placed the phone back on the floor, stared up at the stained ceiling for a few seconds, then rolled over and pulled in his leg to stretch it gently.
"What a pain… the morning hasn't even properly started," he muttered, half grumbling, half resigned.
But just before drifting back to sleep, the corner of his lips lifted—just a little. As if… he was happy.
Of course, no one saw that expression. And maybe, no one needed to know—that the scruffy young man lying in that stuffy room, whom even his own family considered disgusting, had just spoken to someone far beyond their reach.
And this… was just another too-ordinary morning for Al.
The soft sound of peaceful breathing returned to the room, and a faded cloth draped over his face. Al truly intended to go back to sleep. But of course, the world wouldn't allow such noble intentions to unfold.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three soft knocks echoed from the old wooden door. Hesitant, but clear.
Al opened his eyes, tossing the cloth off his face to the corner of the room.
"Uunngh… who the hell is it, this early…" he groaned with a sleepy, muffled tone.
Knock. Knock.
This time, it was louder.
Grudgingly, Al sat up and stared at the door with the expression of someone holding a deep personal grudge. Then he began crawling toward it like an exhausted caterpillar drained of the will to live.
He reached for the doorknob with the resigned grace of a man defeated by life, turned it, and pulled the door inward…
Unfortunately, he forgot one thing.
The door swung inward.
As the door moved, Al—still leaning against it in a crawling position—was yanked backward and collapsed to the floor, half-squashed by the door itself.
The young servant standing outside froze. He blinked. The door had opened… but no one was there.
"...Y-Young Master Al?"
Cautiously, he peeked her head into the room—only to find a bizarre sight: a teenage boy sprawled on the floor lazily, his face half-pressed against the back of the door. His eyes were slightly open, like someone halfway between life and death.
"...Oh, you came in too?" Al mumbled lazily, with no intention of getting up. "Be careful. The gravity in this room is really strong… makes standing up difficult."
The servant stood stiffly, unsure whether he should reply or call a doctor.
"U-Um… breakfast is in an hour, Young Master… The family is waiting."
Al lifted his hand limply and pointed to himself.
"Me? Young? Family?" he asked, confused.
"...Yes, sir," the servant replied hesitantly.
"Hmmm…" Al murmured.
Then he let out a long sigh, as if he had lived for 4000 years.
With painfully slow movements, he pushed himself off the floor, as though he had just returned from another dimension.
"Alright," Al muttered. "Though I usually eat breakfast around noon," he grumbled as he shuffled like a zombie toward the corner of the room. "Why do rich people love torturing themselves so early…"
He opened his backpack, glanced at his only clean clothes—a plain white T-shirt, slightly wrinkled from poor folding, and a pair of dark jogger pants that had clearly never seen an iron.
"If I wear this… maybe I won't look like a total hobo. Or should I just wear a tuxedo to breakfast? Heh…" Al chuckled, mocking his own situation in his own house.
He gave a blank stare at the servant still standing by the door.
"What do you think I should look like?"
The servant panicked.
"M-My apologies, sir… I'm just a servant."
Al nodded wisely, then began changing clothes, letting out a wide yawn.
---
One hour later, in the Virellano family dining hall.
The main dining table stood tall and majestic as always. Each family member sat with poise, already dressed in formal attire for the day. The atmosphere was serious and silent, interrupted only by the clinking of silverware and occasional light conversation.
Then came the sound of approaching footsteps.
A young man appeared, wearing a wrinkled white T-shirt, casual pants, and slightly tousled hair.
Al.
With a strangely bright smile and shining eyes, he walked toward the table like he was attending his own birthday party. He plopped into the empty chair without ceremony and beamed cheerfully. This was his first family breakfast. He didn't want any drama this morning.
"Good morning, everyone," he greeted cheerfully.
Every head turned toward the visual and ethical anomaly that had entered. A few servants instinctively bowed their heads, trying to hide their expressions of confusion.
Edward, the father, slowly set his teacup down and sighed.
"Shouldn't you be at school?" he asked in a cold, flat tone, barely concealing his annoyance. His eyes scanned Al from head to toe.
"Yes, Father, I'm going," Al replied, still smiling with eyes that sparkled.
Edward blinked. Then his face stiffened, a suppressed anger breaking through.
"Then why aren't you dressed? School starts at eight, doesn't it? It's already past six. The driver leaves at seven! What school do you go to? Don't make things complicated."
Al was about to reply, but—
"He probably goes to some mediocre school," Sarah, sitting at the far end of the table, interrupted with a smug tone, holding a glass of orange juice.
Al turned to her. Their eyes met.
Instead of snapping back, Al simply bowed his head slightly with a small smile.
"Sorry… I'll go change then," he said lightly. He grabbed a slice of plain bread and stood up.
Everyone watched, stunned by Al's behavior, which was completely unfit for a wealthy family member.
"Hurry. After that, go to the front gate. You're riding with David," Edward barked, focusing back on his meal.
"Yes, Father," Al replied with a bow, then walked away.
---
A few minutes later...
Al emerged from his tiny building, now dressed neatly in a white-and-gray school uniform underneath an oversized black hoodie. His hair was barely combed, but his shoes were polished. He chewed his bread while occasionally glancing around.
His eyes scanned the parking lot and family driveway.
Empty.
No car. No engine noise. No one in sight.
He stood in the middle of the vast, luxurious garage, which now felt eerily quiet.
Al tilted his head and muttered,
"Hm?"
He walked slowly to the left side of the garage, hoping for a backup vehicle.
Nothing.
Just morning air and his reflection in the glossy glass walls of the quiet mansion.
It didn't take long for Al to understand the situation.
"Oh… they left without me, huh?"
His voice didn't sound angry. Not even disappointed. Just the voice of someone who had long since surrendered to life.
He leaned against the wall, finishing his last bite of bread.
"Well… I forgot to mention my class starts late today…" he murmured calmly.
He pulled out his phone and checked the map to school. A small smile appeared on his lips.
"Walking's not so bad. Morning air's good for health," he said.
And so he began walking out of the large garage, leaving behind his reflection among marble pillars and hidden CCTV cameras.
From inside a vehicle, David grinned mischievously as he watched Al through the mansion's security tablet.
"Serves you right," he muttered.
Too bad David had no idea what kind of person he just messed with.
---