The evening sky glowed orange. Students began leaving school one by one. The atmosphere was calm and quiet. Al walked out of the empty classroom, stretching and letting out a big yawn.
"Huuaahh... finally... free from that noisy world."
He strolled casually toward the school gate. But before he could pass through, soone shouted—
"Oiii! You there!!"
Al stopped. He turned and saw a girl with glasses, looking serious—but with curious eyes sparkling: it was Dila.
"You’re that student nad Al, right?!"
Al said nothing. Internally: I thought I was in the clear... and yet, here cos trouble.
Dila quickly approached, notebook dangling from her neck already open like a makeshift reporter.
"You’re the top scorer in the tryouts, right? I’m Dila. I’ve never seen you before. They say you’re from the day class? They say you’re on a scholarship? They say you’re also the assistant to the CEO of Virellano Group? And they say you—" "They say you... you also... you... you—?"
Al squinted. He hadn’t answered a single question.
A barrage of questions from a bookworm... aid at a lazy student. The most absurd combination in HIHS history.
"Stop, stop... way too many questions. Sorry, I’m in a hurry."
Al turned and walked off.
He walked fast, but Dila’s voice trailed behind him.
"Hey! I’m not finished yet! Did you know that the success rate for day-class students is below 8.4%? But you topped the scores—statistically impossible! Are you—"
Al kept walking. Dila kept talking—like an audiobook with no off button.
The bus gently shook. Al sat by the window.
"Finally... peace..."
"Hi! I’m sitting here, okay?"
Dila popped up beside him, smiling—and started talking again.
Al stared out the window, thinking: What is wrong with this person...?
They soon arrived near the Virellano residence area, walking on a sidewalk along a fancy street. The streetlights had started to glow.
"Enough. That’s enough," Al said, stopping suddenly.
"Huh?"
"Just ask one question today. One. I’ll answer it. Then you go ho. Deal?"
Dila paused—then smiled.
"Deal."
She leaned closer, locking eyes with him.
"Go on a date with tomorrow, okay?"
Al went silent.
"...Huh? That doesn’t sound like a question. Also, why so suddenly—"
"It is a question. I said ’okay?’, that makes it a question."
Her expression was serious, but her cheeks turned red.
"As agreed, you have to answer. And it has to be a ’yes.’ If you refuse, I’ll follow you every day until graduation. No—until we die."
Al covered his face with his hand.
This girl’s insane.
"Oh God... this is practically blackmail."
"Fine! Fine! Tomorrow!"
"Yay! Deal!"
Dila spun around and walked off. But before she got far, she turned back.
"Oh right, give your number!"
She held out her phone.
Al sighed. Good thing he had a new number—one Aurielle gave him that morning. He typed it in.
"Okay, don’t forget tomorrow~"
"Yeah yeah..."
Dila finally left. Al watched her disappear down the street, then slumped.
"Hufff... finally... she’s gone."
He headed ho. But deep down, he thought:
Why is my life getting more absurd by the day...?
---
The Next Day
Today was a day off for final-year students as compensation for yesterday’s tryouts. A perfect day Al had been looking forward to—for sleeping in.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains, touching Al’s face as he lay deep in dreamland...
BRRRR... BRRRR... BRRRR...
The new phone on his desk buzzed nonstop.
"Ugh... who the heck is calling this early... the world’s not ending, is it..."
He groaned, half-asleep, grabbing the phone. The screen lit up: Unknown Number.
He answered.
"Hello...?"
"Good morning! It’s Dila! Just a reminder—our date is today! I’ve sent the full schedule. Be on ti! We’re starting at 1 PM at the city park!"
Click.
Al stared blankly at the screen.
Was that... a dream?
No, wait. Maybe Aurielle’s not the only one who lives that detailed.
A ssage popped up:
"DATE SCHEDULE – SATURDAY RUNDOWN (1:00 PM–7:00 PM)"
He opened it.
1:00 PM – City Park
2:00 PM – Ice Cream Ti!
3:00 PM – Local Art Gallery
4:00 PM – City Library
5:00 PM – Lake Walk
6:00 PM – Dinner & Chill at Café ZING!
Al stared at the wall.
"...I’ve been colonized. My perfect rest day... hijacked."
And so began Al’s day off.
---
Evening – Café ZING!, 6:15 PM
Al slouched in his chair, drained like a war veteran returning from the front lines. Dila sat across from him, cheerfully snapping photos of their food.
"Smile! Today was fun, right?"
Al nodded weakly.
"So... exhausting..."
"But it’s not over yet. Now cos... the question session!"
Al almost fell out of his chair.
"Okay, first question... What was it like sitting next to Miss Aiza?"
Al raised his head.
"Huh? Out of all possible questions... why that one? Shouldn’t you be asking about the tryouts? Why are you even curious about that? Who cares about—"
"Just answer it! I want to know! In detail!"
Dila leaned forward, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"It was... like sitting next to anyone else." Al said.
"Do you want to know what business elites were discussing?"
"N–No!"
She flushed red, her voice cracking.
"I want to know... how it felt sitting beside Miss Aiza. What was her aura like? Her scent? Her gaze?"
Al nearly choked on his drink.
"Sitting is just sitting. Like sitting next to you."
"What’s so special about it?"
Dila froze.
"Ne–next to ...?"
Her face turned bright red—like a boiled tomato.
"You... compared to Miss Aiza...?"
She was now in full ltdown, totally caught off guard by the unexpected answer.
And not far away, soone else had hit their limit.
"AAARRRGHHH ENOUGH!!"
Soone shouted.
Al and Dila turned. A young man burst through the café doors.
"AL!!!"
Idham Tamarvich—disheveled, panting, eyes wild with emotion.
"Al!!! Answer properly! What was it like sitting next to Miss Aiza?! Be honest!!"
He grabbed Al’s collar.
"I’ve been holding it in all day, tailing you! I couldn’t sleep because you sat beside her! I was supposed to be the one! I couldn’t sleep because you beat my score—and I was supposed to be the top scorer! Now, TELL !!"
Al looked at Idham’s tear-filled eyes. But rather than anger, what he felt was... sothing strange.
All this... over sothing so trivial?
Idham was still gripping Al’s collar, breathing heavily, eyes red with emotion. Their shouting began drawing attention. Dila tried to pull Idham away, but failed.
Al stayed quiet, eyes narrowing.
Sothing’s wrong.
He secretly scanned Idham’s aura, focusing on the energy flow in his body.
Wait... Al whispered inwardly.
Idham’s whole body was enveloped in dark energy—thick and sticky. Al recognized it. Unlike what Yolanda or David had before, this was sothing darker... energy from another dinsion, one that fed on human emotion—specifically, jealousy.
So... he’s already making a move. This is bad.
Al tensed. The café was full. Other tables were watching. So were even recording on their phones.
He turned to Dila, trying to stay calm.
"Dila, help . We need to get him out of here."
Dila, though smart, wasn’t a fighter. Physically weak.
"I—I can’t! He’s heavy and struggling, Al!"
Al clenched his fist. Using magic here to disrupt that aura in public would be dangerous. If Idham lashed out, this small space could be wrecked—and people could get hurt. But letting him stay like this... was also dangerous.
"Damn it... I have to—"
---
Suddenly... A New Aura Appears
The atmosphere changed. The air cooled. Ti seed to slow.
Footsteps—slow and steady—from the café entrance.
An old man entered, wearing long robes and holding a wooden staff. His body frail, but his presence radiated a soft, glowing white aura.
People instinctively stepped aside to make way. They didn’t know why—only that they had to.
The old man looked at Idham.
"Young man... you’re being controlled by a power that’s not your own."
He raised two fingers, pressed them into the air—then pointed toward Idham’s forehead from a distance.
A soft white light flared.
White energy flowed gently into Idham’s body. The dark aura trembled—disrupted—but thanks to Al stabilizing him, the old man was able to complete the purification. The dark energy sizzled and slowly evaporated, like steam burned by light.
"AAH!"
Idham collapsed, unconscious, into Al’s arms.
The café fell silent. Everyone was stunned.
All eyes locked onto the old man, awe written on every face.
But Al didn’t care much. He gently laid Idham down and turned.
"Thank you."
The old man smiled faintly. His voice was soft, yet clear.
"You’re strong too, young man. Without your help, purifying that boy’s energy would’ve been difficult."
Al held his breath.
"This child was tainted by a power he shouldn’t have encountered. Best to keep him away from the outside world for now."
Al looked down at Idham—unconscious on the floor. The crowd stayed frozen in disbelief. No one could believe what they just saw—an old man in robes purging a dark aura with just two fingers and a glimr of light.
So began to recognize him.
"Wait... that’s Elder Rayapati!"
"Elder Rayapati? From the Southeast Asia Magic Association?"
"They say he’s a high-level spiritualist from Asia..."
"He can cure high-level curses, right?"
"No way... Do things like that still exist today?"
Whispers and gasps filled the air. A few started recording.
The old man looked deeply into Al’s eyes, then placed a pitch-black card on Al’s table.
"If this happens again, contact this organization. We can help."
He turned and walked slowly out. No one said a word. People moved aside, as if ti had slowed for him.
"Damn..." whispered a café staff.
"That old guy’s a legend..." said another.
But Al said nothing. He was focused on checking Idham’s condition, barely reacting to the mysterious old man’s presence.
---
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