"You're such a bastard!"
"A heartless liar!"
A woman screamed while throwing a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. Her sudden outburst drew the attention of everyone nearby.
The crowd began to murmur—some laughed, others looked at her with pity.
"Hahaha… she's completely lost it!"
"Can you believe she actually asked Ignarius Valtor to be her boyfriend? Hahaha!"
"No matter how crazy she gets, Igna would never return her feelings."
"Even celebrities were turned down by him. What chance does a normal woman like her have?"
"Ignarius Valtor!"
"I curse you! May your life be filled with misfortune!"
Her voice cracked, echoing through the air.
"Hahaha! She's actually cursing him!"
"Love rejected, curses activated—what a show!"
"Looks like her life is the miserable one, not Igna's. What a weirdo."
People sneered and whispered among themselves, mocking the poor woman's desperation.
"Ignarius! Don't you dare just walk away like that!"
"I curse every step you take to bring you bad luck!"
Her scream broke into sobs.
Igna stopped walking.
He turned around, looking at the woman who had been shouting curses at him all this time.
Instead of responding, he simply gave her a faint, charming smile and a small nod—before turning away and continuing his steps, leaving the woman collapsed in her sorrow.
"I thought he was going to say something back to that crazy girl, but he just smiled. Ugh, why does his smile have to be that beautiful?"
"God, Igna's so handsome!"
"My eyes feel refreshed just seeing him under the sunlight!"
Ignarius's face had the power to enchant every gaze—pulling admiration and envy alike.
Without ever overreacting, he always responded to their attention with that same polite, effortless smile.
---
At the balcony of Nexus University, the evening sky glowed in shades of gold.
Igna stood quietly, sipping from a box of full-cream milk as his eyes wandered toward the distant horizon.
'That girl… what was her name again?'
'Ah, Jessica. She must've expected a different kind of reply from me. Hmm… very well. I'll give her a proper one tonight.'
"Yo, Igna!" Lucas called out, approaching with Hans and Crish.
"We got challenged by the engineering guys for tomorrow night!" Lucas said, excitement in his tone.
"So, are we taking it or not?" Crish raised his brows.
"Why not? They're from the elite circle too," Hans replied.
"What's the bet?" Igna asked casually, sipping his milk.
"The four of us are putting in 1.25 billion each—five billion total. They'll do the same. So it's ten billion altogether. If we win, the whole thing's ours. If we lose… well, say goodbye to the money." Lucas grinned.
"Hm… even if we win, that's only one billion each after expenses. Too little. Let's raise it to a hundred billion—fifty from each team," Igna said with a teasing smirk.
"For someone like Ignarius, that might be pocket change. But for me, betting over ten billion just for fun is a bit much," Crish said, half-laughing, half-groaning.
"Hahaha… too high, huh?" Igna chuckled.
"Yeah, they might back out before the race even starts," Lucas replied.
"Twenty billion sounds more reasonable, right?" Hans added.
Tch, what a waste of time for such a small amount, Igna thought to himself.
"Well, twenty it is. Not much of a thrill, but it'll do," he said aloud.
"Hold on, let me text them—see if they'll take it," Crish said, pulling out his phone.
"Don't ask them if they agree," Igna interrupted with a grin. "Tell them if it's less than that, we'll switch the bet to billiards instead of racing."
"Hahaha, that'll corner them. Their pride won't let them refuse," Hans laughed.
"Exactly. Makes our weekend a little more interesting," Igna replied.
"They haven't answered yet," Crish said, showing his phone.
"Just let us know in the group chat once they do," Hans said.
"Class is starting soon. We should head down," Igna reminded them.
"Right, right," Lucas nodded.
"Ugh, extra classes are the worst," Crish groaned.
"Yeah, they should've canceled it."
"It's worse not having knowledge at all," Igna teased.
"That's easy for you to say, genius," Crish shot back, rolling his eyes.
The four of them laughed and talked casually as they walked toward the classroom.
"By the way, that Jessica girl was hilarious earlier—screaming like a lunatic because you rejected her," Hans said, laughing again.
"Yeah, didn't think she'd start cursing you like that," Crish added.
"She went too far. You even rejected her nicely," Lucas chimed in.
"People are strange," Igna chuckled softly.
"For four years of college, there hasn't been a single day without a girl confessing to you. Gifts, food, letters, flowers—everything. Why don't you just date someone already? That way, girls would stop getting their hopes up because of your kindness," Hans asked.
"Simply because I haven't found anyone who fits my type," Igna replied calmly.
"There it is again. What is your type, anyway?" Crish prodded.
"He's not gonna answer," Lucas said.
"Hahaha…" Igna only laughed.
"Fine, one day you'll tell us. I'm dying to know what kind of girl could actually catch your eye," Hans sighed.
"Anyway, let's hit the bar tonight!" Crish said enthusiastically.
"Let's go!" Lucas joined in.
"This is our last class for the day, so we could head straight there," Hans suggested.
"I can't. I already have plans," Igna replied.
"Aw, come on!" Lucas groaned.
"What plans? It's Friday night!" Crish asked.
"I'm meeting Commissioner Arnold Valtor," Igna answered calmly.
"Oof, that's an invitation you can't refuse," Hans joked.
"Yeah, the most serious kind of meeting," Crish added with a laugh.
---
After finishing his classes and getting ready,
Igna walked toward the helipad atop his mansion.
"Good evening, Young Master."
The bodyguards bowed in unison, lined up neatly beside a luxurious white helicopter with golden accents. The steady whirl of the blades signaled readiness for takeoff.
Igna smiled warmly as he climbed the steps. Inside, the interior was lined with cream leather and mahogany details. The soundproof walls made the roaring engines almost silent.
Through the thick glass, the glittering city lights stretched far below.
Calm and composed, Igna sat like a stream untouched by storm.
"Give me the novel," he said to Addam, his personal assistant.
"Yes, Young Master," Addam replied, handing it over with both hands.
Igna opened the book.
A black-covered novel so plain, few would even notice the faint title embossed on it: The Sword of Blood.
'I've lost count of how many times Young Master has read that book,' Addam thought, watching him intently.
'Since he was ten, not a single day has passed without him reading it. He probably knows every scene—every word—by heart.'
'The day after tomorrow is Sunday again… I always feel uneasy whenever it comes. I just hope they bring good news, so Young Master won't turn terrifying again,' Addam prayed silently, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows.