Aslan was hurrying off the field after the match, hoping to vanish before any more attention landed on him.
Then—
A hand landed on his shoulder.
"Aslan," a calm voice called from behind.
He turned slowly, like a thief caught red-handed. He blinked, feigning surprise.
"Who… me?"
With the most innocent face he could muster, he added,
"Sorry, sir. You must've mistaken me for someone else. I don't know any Aslan."
Just then—
"Aslan! Hurry up, we need you here!"
His teammate's voice sliced through the field like a knife.
Aslan froze. One eye twitched.
He slowly turned his head, glaring toward the heavens—and by heavens, he meant that teammate.
"Of course you'd call my name now of all times."
The boy behind him chuckled. Black hair, sharp green eyes, and a smile too familiar to ignore.
"So, you don't know any Aslan, huh? I've missed you, man. It's been forever! How've you been?"
Alice Elgren. Loud, flashy, and exactly the kind of person Aslan tried to avoid.
"Still pretending not to know me?" Alice teased.
Aslan forced a smile.
"Why now? Why here? Just vanish already."
But Alice walked beside him, chatting like they were old best friends. Which, unfortunately, they technically were.
From the sidelines, Cael—still nursing his bruised pride from the match—watched the scene unfold. He clenched his fists.
"That guy… I lost to that guy?"
But slowly, Cael's expression changed. He took a deep breath.
"No… he beat me fair and square. I should accept my defeat like a true hero. He's stronger than the rumors… just like those bullies said. Maybe… he's not as bad as I thought."
---
The next morning…
Aslan walked the palace-like corridor toward class, hands shoved in his pockets, yawning. He looked calm, maybe even bored.
He thought:
Some people have probably started hating me now… because I turned their favorite hero and crush into a laughing stock. But in a way, my mission was successful—because now, everyone should hate me.
He let out a small sigh. The smirk faded for a moment.
But beneath all that?
His thoughts turned quiet. Sharper. More focused.
"Cael Vireon. Seventeen. Duke's eldest son. Monster Subjugation War hero. I remember watching him fight five years ago during the Eastern Outbreak… He was incredible back then."
Aslan narrowed his eyes.
"So why's he been chasing me around like a tax collector?"
A sigh.
Then came another name, uninvited:
"Alice Elgren. Eighteen. From House Elgren. War hero, too. Met him three years ago during that teenage magic aptitude test. He was loud then. He's louder now."
Aslan groaned internally.
"Since yesterday, I can't go anywhere without one of them showing up. Lunch? There. Training grounds? There. Corridor? Right behind me. Dreams? I swear I saw Alice waving at me in one."
He slouched more dramatically, dragging his steps.
"I just want peace… a nap… and some snacks. Is that too much to ask?"
Aslan turned a corner.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Then came the dreaded voices:
"Aslaaaan!" "There you are!"
He paused. Looked back.
Cael and Alice. Again.
Smiling. Glowing. Like noble-born nightmares.
"…Nope."
And he bolted.
One second he was there—next, gone like a leaf in the wind.
Students passing by blinked.
"Wasn't that Aslan?"
"Why's he running like his pants are on fire?"
Alice shouted between laughs,
"Hey! Don't run! We just want to talk!"
Cael yelled louder,
"COME BACK AND FIGHT ME!"
Aslan shouted back over his shoulder,
"I don't want to talk! I don't want to spar! I want two naps a day and for people to STOP yelling my name in public!!"
He vaulted over a bench, slid under a garden arch, and ducked behind a moving maid cart—
And crashed into the Headmaster.
THUMP!
Scrolls flew. Silence reigned.
The old man glared down at him, unimpressed.
"…Aslan. Care to explain why you're sprinting through the halls like a feral deer?"
Behind him, Cael and Alice finally caught up.
Alice grinned. "Sir! We were just catching up with our dear friend here."
Aslan, face to the floor, muttered,
"…Friendship is a scam."
---
Later that day, in class…
Cael sat beside Aslan, who lounged in the back seat, arms behind his head, half-asleep again.
Cael glanced at him, unsure. Then asked:
"Why are you the boss of those bullies?"
Aslan turned an eye toward him, slightly amused.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean…" Cael hesitated, "You don't act like a bully. You don't seem cruel or dumb. Honestly, you don't even look like one."
Aslan smirked.
"Wow. Thanks for that beautifully awkward compliment."
Cael persisted.
"Then why do they call you boss? Why do they follow you like you're their war general?"
Aslan yawned.
"First, they tried to bully me, so I beat them up. Then I saved them once. By accident. They decided I was some kind of king. I told them to bring me snacks and stop talking to me. They took it as an order."
"So… you're not a bully?"
"Of course not. I'm a peaceful man." He paused. "I just hate people who act strong but are weak inside. So I beat them up."
Cael blinked.
"That makes zero sense."
Aslan smiled lazily.
"Exactly. That's why it works."
Class began. The teacher droned on.
But Cael didn't take his eyes off the red-haired boy beside him.
He thought:
"He's strong… but doesn't show off. Calm, but dangerous. He doesn't care about reputation, and yet… people follow him."
Something inside Cael stirred.
"I misjudged him. He's… something else."
He didn't know it yet—
But admiration had already started to grow.