There was still plenty of time before the war and Al's afternoon class. And right now, morning naps were his ultimate dream.
But fate, as usual, had other plans.
Ever since returning to the Virellano estate, petty yet irritating problems seemed to pile up nonstop. It was almost as if coming back had quietly boosted his misfortune stat to absurd levels.
As Al walked down the hallway, a familiar scene slipped into his peripheral vision.
Three figures stood near the school gate, forming a loose half-circle.
The first was massive—nearly two meters tall. A bulky frame packed with muscle and fat, arms crossed, expression empty. The type who followed orders without thinking—the enforcer.
The second was tall and thin, glasses perched on his nose, lips curled into a sneer. His eyes darted around restlessly, sharp but cowardly. The instigator.
And the third—
Their leader.
Rudi Norvalien.
A third-generation heir of the Norvalien family, one of the top three richest families in Eastern Indorosia.
Handsome face, slicked-back hair, flawless skin—straight out of a luxury brand advertisement. Yet his eyes were filled with open disdain.
At the center of the circle stood a boy with a slightly small build.
He was wearing the school's sports uniform. His posture was stiff with tension. His fists were clenched, but the hesitation in his eyes was obvious.
He was being cornered.
Al merely watched. He didn't bother paying attention to who they were and felt no need to interfere.
Ever since becoming a cursed human, his sense of empathy had changed.
To him, as long as someone's life wasn't as miserable as that of a cursed human, there was no real reason to feel sorry for them.
Things like this were just… troublesome.
Everyone was responsible for their own fate.
With that in mind, Al tried to walk past them, ignoring the situation entirely.
"Don't mess with me," the boy said defensively. "You know I'm an afternoon-class student, right? I'm under the protection of the Masked King."
"Huh? The Masked King?" Rudi scoffed. "Sounds more like the Coward King to me."
"Yeah," the glasses-wearing one added with a laugh. "Can't even show his face. Pretty sure he's just a coward, hahaha."
The three of them burst into laughter.
The boy froze. Even after bringing up the Masked King's name, the bullies showed no fear at all.
In the world of inter-school street fights, there was a mysterious figure known as the Masked King—
a presence that made the afternoon-class students of Hazandeen School feared throughout the underground brawl scene.
Rumor said he was an afternoon-class student himself, but no one knew his real identity except those from the afternoon classes. That alone was enough to make people wary of them.
Stories claimed that he and his team always wore masks whenever they fought—hiding their backgrounds so they could go all out, without opponents holding back because of elite family names.
Yet even after hearing that name, the three bullies remained unfazed. After all, Rudi was one of them.
In their minds, no matter who the so-called Masked King was, he would never dare interfere with someone on Rudi's level.
The small boy could only step back, his eyes darting around desperately for a way out—
Until he noticed Al.
For a brief moment, surprise flashed across the boy's face, followed by a flicker of hope.
"Ah—!" He rushed toward Al without thinking. "Big brother! You're here—uwaaah, I'm saved!"
Al's presence visibly eased his tension.
Al looked at him and realized.
"So it's you…" he muttered, slightly surprised, letting out a quiet sigh.
He hadn't expected to run into a classmate here—a student from the afternoon classes.
The three bullies turned at once.
They looked startled at first, seemingly expecting the Masked King himself to appear.
But instead—
It was just… Al.
They knew who Al was. Very well, in fact.
An orphan. A charity case. A lucky kid who somehow got a scholarship into an elite school.
They had no idea that Al might be the Masked King. To them, that was simply impossible. How could an orphan like Al ever be the Masked King?
"Oh?" Rudi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Looks like we've got an extra guest."
The glasses-wearing one smirked.
"What's this? A charity case and a daytime stray in one morning?"
The big one cracked his knuckles slowly, looming forward like a beast waiting for permission.
Al didn't pay much attention to the three of them. His focus stayed on his friend instead.
"Why are you here this early?" Al asked calmly. "Aren't you an afternoon-class student?"
He then casually glanced at the three bullies.
"And what's going on here? Don't tell me you're being bullied."
"Hey, you're an afternoon-class student too, big brother," the boy protested.
"Anyway," he continued, "I've got futsal practice this morning. We're preparing for next month's competition, so I came early. But…"
He pointed at the three of them.
"…I ran into these three bad guys… hic… Please help me, big brother."
Al glanced at the bullied student, then at the three figures—his expression utterly indifferent—before looking back at his friend.
"Relax," Al said lazily.
"Who would dare bully you when I'm here?"
Then his eyes sharpened.
"But… that means... they are bullying you, right?"
The atmosphere tightened instantly.
Al's friend realized something terrifying—his situation might have actually gotten worse. Al's anger could be far more dangerous than anything Rudi and his group might do.
Among afternoon-class students, there was an untold story.
The afternoon session had far fewer students and classes than the morning one—barely a hundred students, split into four classes per grade.
And most of them were rich, troublesome, arrogant… and notoriously lazy.
One of those four classes had been joined by Al.
Normally, someone from a lower background—especially an orphan with no backing like Al—should have been an easy target for bullying.
Unfortunately for them, Al's arrival had turned their world into hell.
Instead of being bullied, he crushed them.
He became the most feared figure among the afternoon classes, earning the title Big Brother. At first, he ruled them through fear—only for it to gradually turn into genuine acceptance.
He redirected their delinquency and laziness toward something bigger.
Street fights.
He led those delinquent students into the underground brawl scene, all of them wearing masks—leaving behind only their identity as Hazandeen students, never revealing who they truly were.
They firmly established themselves as the strongest force in the student brawl world.
And because of that, the masked leader of those students—Al—became a terrifying figure, known as the Masked King. No one knew who he really was.
Under Al's lead, they became the kings of brawls in Makazhar City—wiping out students from other schools during turf wars, even taking down local thugs along the way.
In the end, only a few groups remained unconquered.
David's school, which never involved itself in such activities; the all-girls academy; and the morning-class students of Al's own school.
Because of that, Al's friend knew exactly how terrifying he was.
And there could be no weak afternoon-class students—especially not in front of Al. That would be a disgrace.
Unfortunately, the person standing before them now wasn't someone the boy could ignore.
Even though they were both rich, Rudi's family status was on an entirely different level.
There was no way he could fight back.
"B–Big brother… but that's Rudi Norvalien," he protested softly. "How am I supposed to go against him?"
"Norvalien, you say?" Al murmured as he turned toward Rudi.
Now he understood why his friend had been hesitant.
Feeling ignored, Rudi scoffed.
"Hey. Orphan," he called out. "Don't tell me you're planning to help him. And don't tell me you're trying to scare us by borrowing the name of the Masked King too."
His gaze sharpened.
"Still," Rudi continued, lips curling into a cold smile, "out of everyone I want to crush, you've always been near the top of my list. And now—after all this time—I finally run into you."
He took a step forward.
"By the way, I thought scholarship trash like you only crawled out at night."
The glasses-wearing one burst into loud laughter.
"Yeah. Maybe he's here begging for leftovers. Rural kids do get hungry fast, after all."
The boy hurriedly moved behind Al, his body stiffening.
He didn't know what was about to happen.
He knew Al was brutal—strong enough to crush afternoon-class students without mercy—but Rudi was different. His status wasn't the same.
Would Al really dare to confront someone like Rudi?
Another thought struck him even harder.
What would Al do to him after this—after seeing his cowardice so clearly?
Al, however, simply scratched his head.
"…Man. No wonder you were scared," he said calmly. "I'll let it slide this time."
Those words instantly eased the boy's heart.
At the same time, they made him assume something else—that maybe Al was hesitant to face Rudi.
But what Al did next made his heart pound violently.
Al turned around and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Go," he said calmly. "I'll handle this. I don't want you getting traumatized—because after this…"
He turned back to face Rudi. His eyes sharpened, turning cold and dangerous.
"…things might get bloody."