May 22

Two nights had passed since Al officially moved into the Virellano family's main residence. It was also a reminder that only five days remained before the national exam began.

During those two nights, Al's life had been nothing short of hectic. A battle with the magic association deep in the forest, the revelation of Fani's true identity, the chaos stirred up by Uncle Acok that forced him to change rooms, and the uproar that unfolded at the café. Two exhausting nights indeed, especially for a man as lazy as Al.

This morning, Al woke up once again. Fortunately, he had managed to get a decent amount of sleep the night before, even though he had only returned home right at midnight. His body felt a little sore, his eyelids were still heavy, and his messy hair draped over part of his face.

Yet, his morning was far from peaceful—partly because of the sound of the family's soldiers training not too far from his room, and partly because of the loud noise of heavy machinery outside. The rumble of engines, the grinding of gears, and the pounding of tools echoed through the air, forcing him to frown.

He stepped out and leaned toward the side window of the family dining hall, the one that opened toward the garden, where he caught sight of the old building he used to live in. His eyes narrowed, his breaths short, as if straining to catch the details amidst the glaring light of the morning sun.

His unusual behavior immediately made some of the servants uneasy. Firstly, because breakfast had not yet been served, and secondly, because Al had not yet been given permission to join breakfast at the main table. They exchanged looks, whispers slipping through their lips, while Al, unfazed, simply pressed his hand against the glass to sharpen his view. Of course, they misunderstood. But Al couldn't care less. His goal was simple—to find out what was happening outside.

From his vantage point, it seemed that the small building where he had once stayed was about to be demolished. Or rather… the area was about to be completely leveled. Several workers could be seen bustling about, helmets on their heads and safety vests strapped across their torsos.

The workers in this luxurious residential estate appeared remarkably efficient. Though the day had only just begun, they were already well into their preparations. Dust was already stirring into the air as heavy equipment was moved into place, while the sharp hammering and drilling noises fractured the calm of the morning, even though the real work had yet to begin. The air carried the scent of damp earth mingled with wooden shavings, clinging stubbornly to Al's nose. It seemed beginning early in the day was the best solution for construction during the dry season.

One of the workers happened to notice Al's silhouette framed by the wide window. With Al's plain face and simple appearance, the man instantly mistook him for one of the household staff. He gestured with his hand, signaling and calling out to Al.

Naturally, Al had no idea what the man wanted, especially since they were separated by both distance and glass. He glanced behind him, checking if there was someone else the worker might be calling to, but no one was there. That meant it was indeed him. Curiosity piqued, Al decided to step outside—not only because he wanted to know the fate of the old building, but also because there might be a chance to dig up something that had been left behind there.

But before Al could even say a word upon arriving at the site—

"Hey, you! Go fetch us some coffee!" shouted the worker who had signaled him earlier.

Al froze mid-step and looked at him blankly. His eyes were void of expression yet carried a cold undertone, his brows knitted slightly as though he had just woken up and was far too lazy to bother with a response.

"Huh?" he muttered in confusion.

The worker, still looking unconcerned and more focused on arranging his tools, repeated his demand in a flat tone.

"Get us some coffee."

"You're talking to me? Are you sure you're not mistaken?" Al asked, genuinely confused.

The man turned his eyes toward him, irritation flashing across his face. He had already spoken twice, yet instead of obeying, this boy dared to question him. The worker's jaw clenched, his eyes widened briefly at Al, while his fist tightened reflexively at his side.

"Oi, brat! Don't make me repeat myself a third time!" he barked, his voice rising sharply.

This outburst immediately drew the attention of his colleagues. Some workers stopped hammering, lowering their tools as they watched the scene unfold. What had been a morning filled only with the noise of machines now carried a thin layer of tension.

What's wrong with this guy? Getting mad all of a sudden. Better not waste time with him. I need to find out what project they're working on here, Al thought inwardly.

With that, Al ignored the man entirely. He began strolling around the area, focusing on his real intention—to inspect the ruined building. He paid no further mind to the one demanding coffee. His steps were calm, one hand slipped casually into his pocket, while the other brushed away a layer of dust clinging to the half-collapsed wall.

"What exactly are you going to do with this building?" he asked the workers in a flat tone.

Seeing Al's behavior, nearly all of the workers turned their heads, their expressions mixed with surprise and irritation. From the very beginning, every single one of them had assumed that Al was nothing more than a servant, yet now his demeanor told a different story. He acted as if he didn't take them seriously at all, dismissing their presence as though they were nothing but background noise.

The worker who had been ignored—the tall, dark-skinned man with a muscular build and sharp, piercing eyes—clicked his tongue, fury surging inside him. The veins on his neck bulged, his face flushing red as he struggled to suppress his wounded pride.

"Oi, you servant! How dare you!" he shouted angrily while reaching out, trying to grab Al's shoulder as the young man calmly walked past him.

Sensing the motion, Al abruptly turned his body, causing the man's hand to miss its mark and nearly throw him off balance. The clumsy failure only deepened the worker's humiliation. Al simply raised one eyebrow, his expression flat yet faintly mocking, as though declaring that he had no intention of acknowledging him at all.

"You—!" the worker growled, his fist already tightening, ready to slam it into Al. His knuckles whitened from the force of his grip, and the air around them seemed to grow heavy with anticipation. Several of the other workers swallowed nervously, their eyes locked on the imminent clash.

But before the punch could fly, another man stepped forward.

"What do you think you're doing? Don't act recklessly!" The voice belonged to a broad-shouldered man, older, perhaps in his forties, with an even more imposing physique. His thick arms and weathered features spoke of decades of labor in physical trades such as carpentry and masonry. His tone was stern, his furrowed face radiated authority, and his large hand gripped the younger worker's arm with unshakable strength.

"Mr. Mudi… but this brat—" the hot-headed worker protested, his breath uneven, his eyes still blazing with anger.

"No excuses. I don't know why this so-called servant is acting in such a manner, but that does not give you the right to behave however you please," Mudi cut him off firmly. He was, after all, the foreman of the project. His authority was unquestionable, his presence alone enough to make several of the other workers lower their heads, restraining themselves.

"But I only asked for coffee! And look at the way this kid behaves. Isn't it the least they could do to provide us with such a simple thing?" the man pressed on. His teeth ground together, and thin beads of sweat rolled down his temple as anger coursed through his veins.

"Enough. Drop it. We are professionals here. Stop acting like you've never worked in an elite residence before. There are protocols to follow, even for something as trivial as requesting coffee. This isn't a low-class construction site."

The two of them argued back and forth about Al and a cup of coffee, their words heating the atmosphere. Some of the workers exchanged glances, stifling laughter at the ridiculousness of the quarrel, while others scratched their heads awkwardly, unwilling to intervene.

Are they really debating about me right in front of me? Al thought, slightly baffled by the absurdity of the situation.

The argument was suddenly cut short by none other than Al himself—the very subject of the dispute.

"Oi, oi. You're quarreling because of me, yet you're completely ignoring my presence. Besides… who ever said I was a servant here?" His voice was calm, almost lazy, his shoulders lifting slightly in a careless shrug. But the arrogance laced in his tone made every head turn toward him.

Those words silenced the pointless argument instantly. Not only silenced—it froze the entire group. Every single worker stared at Al with blank confusion. Eyes widened, lips parted with words caught on the edge of their tongues, while others simply frowned, uncertain of what they had just heard.

"Huh? Then who are you if not a servant?" the young worker sneered, leaning lazily forward and pointing a rough finger directly at Al. "Look at your face." His mocking gesture jabbed at the air, his expression dripping with contempt.

"Isn't your face even worse? Honestly, you don't even look fit to be a gardener, let alone a proper worker." Al shot back sharply, his shoulders lifting once more as he shook his head. His tone was drenched in sarcasm, and a thin smirk tugged at his lips, cold and cutting.

"You dare insult me?!" the man roared, stomping forward. "Do you want to fight, boy?!" The veins on his neck pulsed, his steps thundered against the ground, and the air crackled with violent intent.

But Mudi's iron grip caught his arm again, holding him back with painful force. The younger man winced under the older man's crushing strength.

"Enough. Don't cause trouble here," Mudi ordered.

Al crossed his arms and leaned his weight onto one leg, his gaze calm yet piercing.

"I have no intention of fighting someone like you. It's meaningless," he said smoothly. "Besides… if I truly were a servant, I would only take orders from the master of the house, not from paid laborers like you."

"So you admit you're a servant?" another worker chimed in, his curiosity laced with ridicule.

Whispers began to ripple through the group, some filled with curiosity, others with mocking laughter.

Al shook his head slowly, his deliberate calm only stoking their irritation further.

"Of course not. The only thing I will admit here… is that I am a... member... of the Virellano family." His words came measured, hesitant at first, as he chose member rather than blood child.

But regardless of his choice of words, the reaction was the same.

Laughter erupted among the workers, booming and relentless. Some slapped their thighs, others bent forward, shaking their heads in disbelief.

"Hah! A member of the Virellano family?"

"Boy, it's still too early in the morning. You must still be half-asleep. Go back to bed, haha!"

"Pathetic little servant. At first, we tried to give you some respect, but now you dare claim to be part of the Virellanos? What as? Their pet? Hahaha!"

The mocking words echoed around him, cutting sharper than the noise of drills and hammers.

Al's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides, and his chest felt suffocated with suppressed anger. He didn't respond immediately, exhaling slowly as if to cage the rising storm inside him.

These people… I already told them, yet they refuse to believe me. Truly irritating. If that's how you want it, perhaps playing around with you a little won't hurt. Haha, Al thought to himself, an unsettling smile flickering briefly in his mind.

Without another word, he turned and strode back into the main house, his steps slow yet heavy with restrained emotion.

Heading straight into the kitchen, Al began brewing his own coffee. The servants nearby froze awkwardly, their hands hesitating in midair, uncertain whether they should help or intervene. But none dared to speak up, and none felt at ease enough to assist him.

Before long, Al returned to the construction site—carrying a single steaming cup of coffee with milk.

He sat down on a wooden bench in the garden, directly facing the workers. Without sparing them another glance, he lifted the cup and sipped leisurely. The steam curled upward into the cool morning air, the picture of ease and defiance all at once.

The hot-headed worker's face twisted, his pride thoroughly trampled. He had asked for coffee and been ignored. And now, not only had Al refused, he had gone and made a cup for himself, sipping it arrogantly right in front of them.

"Oi, brat! What the hell do you think you're doing? Are you mocking us?! I told you to bring coffee, yet you make one for yourself and sit there acting like you own the house!" he shouted furiously, his voice splitting the air.

"I already told you—I am a member of this family," Al muttered coolly. "I simply do whatever I please." His voice was quiet but unwavering, every syllable adding fuel to the fire.

"Lies! You're just a servant boy! Do you think I don't know the Virellanos only have one son? How dare you claim you belong to this family?!"

Al said nothing in reply. Instead, he took another slow sip, swirling the coffee on his tongue deliberately, his eyes half-lidded, his smirk sharp and mocking.

"Morning coffee really is delightful," he remarked casually, the provocation dripping from every word.

That was the last straw. The muscular worker lunged forward, snatching up a massive shovel and raising it high, aiming directly for Al's face. His arm trembled with rage, his breaths sharp and ragged.

"You insolent brat!" he roared, swinging the shovel.

"Oi! Don't go overboard!" Mudi tried to intervene.

But the man had already lost control, no longer listening to his superior.

"He's gone too far!" the worker bellowed, his fury unchecked.

He charged forward, the ground trembling beneath his stomping steps. His eyes blazed red with hatred, the air around him thick with murderous intent. Some of the workers panicked, attempting to intervene, while others froze, unsure of what to do.

At that moment, with most of the security staff and bodyguards occupied with training in the main hall across the estate, the area was relatively deserted. Only Al and the workers remained.

Which meant, in this quiet, isolated corner, something truly dreadful might be about to unfold—whether for the workers… or for Al himself.