Kael Helcor sat quietly at his desk, staring at the worn wooden surface while the teacher wrote on the board. The classroom was full of noise—students talking, pens scratching paper, chairs moving—but Kael felt far away from all of it.
For three years, every day had felt the same. Empty. Repeating. Suffocating.
Three years since he last saw his elder brother.
Three years since his father's health began to fail.
His father, Varen Helcor, was once strict and proud of family traditions. But now, he no longer attended the yearly ceremony held to honor the death of King Vorthen—a ritual the Helcor family had followed for generations. The Helcor name, once known for loyalty and honor, now felt like a heavy weight. Kael felt like the only one still carrying it.
The sharp sound of the bell pulled him back to reality. The teacher left the room, and the class immediately burst into chatter.
Miko, a student from the back row, walked over.
"Hey, Kael. You looked lost during the lecture. What were you thinking about?"
Kael slowly lifted his head. His face was calm, cold.
"I am not your concern, Miko. Go back to your seat."
Miko froze, embarrassed, then quietly walked away.
Kael exhaled.
These people, he thought. They chase empty things and call it friendship. A waste of time.
The final bell rang, and students rushed out of the building.
As Kael walked toward the school gate, he noticed a scene near the wall. A group of older boys were bullying a small boy named Lio. They were shaking him roughly, laughing as he struggled to hold his taped glasses in place.
Nearby, a few girls whispered,
"That's the teacher's son again…"
"Poor Lio. They're stealing his lunch money."
Kael watched for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he turned away.
A black Rolls-Royce waited at the gate. His bodyguard opened the door. Kael stepped inside without looking back as the car drove toward the Helcor residence.
Two days later, the exam results were announced.
As always, Kael Helcor stood first, with perfect marks.
Lio sat quietly at the back, nervously cleaning his scratched glasses.
The teacher's son—leader of the bullies—stormed toward Lio's desk. His face was red with anger. His three friends followed him.
He slammed his hand down, knocking Lio's notebooks to the floor.
"You little freak," he hissed. "You ruined my exam."
Lio shrank back.
"I saw you looking at me during the test," the boy continued. "Your pathetic face distracted me. You ruined my score."
Then he sneered.
"You and your family is nothing. I heard your father is begging for work. Your bloodline is trash. You deserve a miserable life."
Kael heard every word.
The insults about family.
The mockery of bloodline.
The word dishonor.
They struck something deep inside him.
Kael stood up slowly.
"Hey."
The teacher's son turned—
and Kael's fist hit his jaw.
The boy flew backward, crashed into the classroom door, and collapsed. Blood poured from his nose as he screamed in shock.
Kael walked toward him, calm and terrifying.
"You do not speak of another person's family or bloodline like that," Kael said quietly.
"Your failure is your own. Do not place your shame on others."
The other three boys rushed at him.
They shouldn't have.
Kael moved with precision—blocking, striking, dropping them one by one. In seconds, all three were on the floor. His movements were controlled, practiced, emotionless.
He stood alone in the silent classroom.
A boy who had stayed silent for years
finally chose to act.