10/1/28
Everest woke up.
He didn't wake up with a start, no, he didn't even flinch—just sat listlessly on the grey couch where he had slept off, legs crossed, arms wide open—like a certain someone he knew—in the dimly lit living room of his apartment.
He slowly lifted his head—which had previously dipped as he dozed off—and his golden eyes glimmered softly in the weak lighting. He had no specific expression on his face; if it was to be named though, it would be indifference.
The living room, what little the darkness allowed him to see, was modern and minimal. Grey couches. A rectangular glass table. And ahead of him, the only real source of illumination—a television still playing the morning news. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep to the world's favorite sport:
Public humiliation.
He thumbed the remote and flicked through channels. The headlines came at him like a firing squad:
[Lisselotte Alexander Terissa officially cancels engagement with Everest Alexander Terissa]
[Everest Alexander Terissa rejected admission into England: STELLAR HIGH]
[King Terissa III exiles Everest after request by Prince Alexander Terissa and approval of the benevolent HOUSEMATER]
[Alexander sisters reportedly not in full agreement with Lisselotte's decision]
[Prince Alexander Terissa publicly expresses disappointment and disdain for Everest]
[Rumors: China shows interest in Everest]
[Rumors: South Korea shows interest in Everest]
[Rumors: USA shows interest in Everest]
Long story short? England had tossed him into the fire, scrubbed their hands clean, and called it justice. He would have been labeled a criminal and maybe even "disposed of," if not for the benevolent HOUSEMATER—ironically the architect of those very laws—who judged in his favor and instead exiled him.
Luckily, or maybe inevitably, that was not the end of his story.
It didn't take him long to contact another exile of England: the prodigal son of the Alexander family and the 4th SUPERSTAR—
Reeze Monroe.
Maybe it was because they shared a certain kinship as prodigals, or maybe it was to settle the score with his family, but he was more than a little hospitable to Everest; and with him, Everest had made quite a name over here and was more likely than not wanted—no, sought for—even.
This place wasn't England's polished gold. No castles. No old-world pride. This was a neon-drenched technological paradise—cold, brilliant, relentless.
He stood, tied his hair into a bun out of habit, his silky black robe whispering against the floor. There was no exquisite mirror here; the only mirror he needed was his bathroom mirror. So he headed straight for his balcony.
He leaned on the railing and exhaled.
It had been quite the battle, and he had nearly lost everything. At least now he had lost everything but himself and his path.
The scenery was beautiful—though not in the way he was used to. The sky had yet to assume color as it was still not yet 6:00 AM, but the city was anything but dark.
Even in the early morning, the city was bustling with activity. Neon lights lit up the entire expanse—from signs to billboards to the countless vehicles in the street. Even the buildings themselves were adorned with colorful lights, and it was hard to see the stars in the night sky—whether because of the intensity of the city lights or the colossal height of its buildings. Everest himself was fifty floors above the ground.
He let himself enjoy it for a moment. Then he reached into his robe and spawned a phone.
"…Hmm. It's about time, isn't it?"
He looked at the phone screen—which was still alien to him—and checked the time.
5:58 AM.
And as soon as the time hit 6:00 AM—
The world turned black.
Every screen. Every billboard. Every sign.
Black.
Then:
A single face on every display in sight: Dolly face, jet-black hair tied in a bun, flawlessly alabaster skin, deep hypnotic gold eyes.
In a silky black robe.
[New Icon in USA: Everest June]
Ahhhhhh.
It was a bittersweet moment. Back to his real name. Back to the real him. Not a prince.
A son of madness.
The heir of the First Madman.
The Phoenix.
Genesis June.
He was Everest June.
The moment was profound—until, of course, the device screamed.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
"Does this thing ever shut up?!"
He tried his best to contain the sudden urge to throw it off the balcony and spawned it from his pocket once more.
[Surprised? Don't be. You're working with the only SUPERSTAR of the USA—lucky you.
It comes with the territory.
And yeah… now you owe me one.]
Everest stared, summoned every drop of his IQ, and composed the most articulate response he could muster:
[Yes]
Not his best work. But it counted.
He sighed. "Besides, it's not my fault Europe had to get nuked and revert back to medieval—"
Another ping.
A new name this time.
[Yahhō~!
Everest June… ehehe, I didn't know you were that kind of June.
Now I'm extra curious.
Let's be friends, okay?
…Don't run away.]
He tilted his head.
I know this girl
Aya Norito.
Exile.
Japan.
Wait.
…Was USA just a luxury dumping ground for international rejects?
Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
Buzz. Buzz.
"What now?"
[All Icons: Report to USA: STELLAR HIGH by 8:00 AM]
The HOUSEMATER had spoken.