"Yo, Grey, wait up!" Sam called out, noticing that Grey was walking too fast for him to keep pace.
"Try to hurry up, Sam. I don't have all day. I need to get back home and prepare for the upcoming tests," Grey replied, his voice edged with impatience. "This is our last year before we're forced to find jobs and start depending on ourselves. Look, I'm 22, and I still rely on my parents for almost everything—unlike you, who already has a part-time job. Plus, your parents are far away. Who knows when mine will be back?"
He quickened his pace, clearly anxious.
"Come on, stop being such a grump," Sam said, jogging a bit to catch up. "For once, just enjoy the moment. You're going to die young if you keep stressing over everything. It's just an exam, man. I'm sure you'll pass. And honestly, when was the last time you actually failed an exam?"
Grey let out a sigh, and his voice softened. "It's just... I really want to start my own life, you know? I don't want to keep relying on my parents. I want to stand on my own. And besides, I'm in a rush—I left my room a mess. If my mom gets home and sees it like that... well, you know how she is. It's better if I get back before she does. You can't compare someone walking to someone driving."
Sam didn't push further. Instead, he simply matched Grey's brisk pace.
After a few moments of silence, Sam broke it again. "Hey, about the final party next week—the one to celebrate our four years on campus—who are you bringing as your partner?"
Grey hesitated for a moment. "Honestly, I wasn't planning to bring anyone. Maybe I'll ask Lydia out, but who knows? She might already have a date. Besides, I'm not really interested in going to the party anyway."
He sped up again, clearly hoping to change the subject.
Grey—full name Eren Grey—was a young man with an intense focus. But the strange thing was, he wasn't channeling that focus into anything most people would consider "important." He was addicted to books—specifically, novels. If he had to choose between going on a date or reading a good story, he'd choose the novel every time. That was what most people assumed about him, and it was largely true.
In fact, Grey was working on a novel of his own, one he planned to release in about a month once he finished his final edits.
So when Sam brought up the upcoming party, Grey had already made up his mind: he wasn't going. He had plenty of reasons. The biggest was his dad.
His father was strict—military-level strict. Even before Grey got his national ID four years ago, his father's rules had been firm. Living under his roof felt like living in an army camp. And if his father found out about the party, there would be hell to pay. That was exactly why Grey was so eager to finish his degree and gain his independence. He wanted to build a life on his own terms.
Financially, he was already secure.
Despite his father's harsh demeanor, the family never lacked for money. In fact, Grey's personal savings could sustain him for the next seventy years—even if he did nothing but sit in a chair and write books. That was how wealthy his family was.
But what good was wealth if you couldn't use it freely?
Grey spent most of his money buying online novels and supporting up-and-coming authors—sometimes even purchasing shares in their work. Sadly, many of those authors eventually gave up. Still, Grey kept supporting them, quietly.
What he truly wanted, deep down, was to become a spy. He'd read countless novels featuring protagonists with espionage skills—some even had powers. His favorite novel was Singularity's Echo, a story about a main character who lived a double life: a news anchor by day, a powerful deity by night. The author was a complete mystery. No matter how hard Grey searched, he couldn't find any information. It was like the author didn't exist. The novel was still ongoing, and Grey was hooked, eagerly waiting to see where it would go next.
It was part of the reason he chose to study criminology at Cambridge University, with a focus on cybersecurity and data forensics. It was his way of getting closer to that world of espionage.
Now, with graduation approaching, Grey was ready to take the next step. He'd tried applying to some big, secretive companies—ones that operated in the shadows—but none of them were hiring. Even his own university had turned him down.
Meanwhile, Sam was doing great.
He worked for a company—details undisclosed—that paid him hundreds of thousands each month. The only people who knew about it were Grey, Lydia, and Yennifer, Sam's girlfriend. Sam was private, but his bond with the others was strong enough that he trusted them with this information.
Grey wasn't envious of the money. His parents gave him just as much. What made him a little jealous was that Sam lived alone. His parents were off enjoying their travels, and the entire house was his. No rules. No lectures. No constant pressure.
Grey, on the other hand, had to deal with his older brother, Kenny—or "Ken," as he called him.
Ken was like a buzzing fly—always around, always annoying. Especially when Grey tried to read or write. But even with all the bickering, Grey knew that Ken cared about him. Ken wasn't working, but it was his choice. He stayed home to look after Grey while their parents were away on business trips. Who needed a job when you could earn a million-dollar allowance just for keeping an eye on your younger brother?
"I won't bother you then," Sam said with a smirk. "But don't even think about asking Yennifer to the party. You'll regret it. I've seen your browsing history, remember. Don't try anything funny."
Grey chuckled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "You must've forgotten who taught you how to code. Let me remind you—not even the U.S. government could hack into my system. You, my dear student, have a long way to go. And for the record, my browsing history is just full of novels. You'll need a better threat next time."
Sam rolled his eyes and gave up on teasing as they reached their buildings.
"See you later, Grey. Duty calls," he said, disappearing into his apartment and shutting the door behind him.
Grey lived only a few blocks away, so the walk home was short. Thankfully, his mother hadn't returned yet.