Rome pushed open the door to his friend’s room and walked right in. Beside Zack, the owner of the room, the rest of their core circle was already gathered. Though each of them had their own private rooms scattered across the floor, the moment Rome called Zack, the others had pricked up their ears. News traveled fast in the school, bringing them all together in minutes.
Even as close friends, they were all second sons of powerful families—unburdened by the heavy responsibilites
of heir, yet raised with the silent understanding that certain lineages kept their own secrets. True loyalty meant knowing when to keep a respectful distance.
Yet, the scene in the courtyard had been far too loud for any of them to ignore.
After class, Rome had conspicuously lingered in the corridor, letting the crowds clear while casting restless, impatient glances toward the stairs. When Mhok failed to appear, Rome had gruntled a vague excuse about “urgent business” that couldn’t be discussed over the phone, sending his friends ahead to grab a table while he remained behind, standing guard alone near the courtyard steps.
To anyone watching, it was painfully obvious he was waiting for Mhok.
And when Mhok finally emerged, the change in Rome had been instantaneous and terrifying.
The slender youth, half a head shorter than Rome, was completely drenched. His uniform clung uselessly to his skin, water dripping from dark strands of hair against his deathly pale face. His cheeks were flushed, but his lips had turned a faint, sickly blue from the biting cold.
The moment Rome laid eyes on him, his entire posture locked rigid. His face darkened into a terrifying, pitch-black scowl, his knuckles turning white as his hands clenched into trembling fists. He had looked ready to drag Mhok away by the wrist and tear apart whoever had dared touch him.
Standing now in Zack’s room, that same storm was still raging behind Rome’s eyes.
“I need you to pull the building’s security footage from noon,” Rome commanded , his voice heavy with suppressed rage.
“The surveillance?” Zack asked, blinking in confusion as he caught the terrifying, pitch-black glare on Rome’s face. “What are you looking for?”
“Mhok was bullied,” Rome growled, the words scraping past his throat like a low, dangerous roar. “Even though it was just a stupid bucket of dirty water, but I want every single name.”
“So that’s what happened at noon,” Zack muttered, narrowing his eyes as the pieces instantly clicked into place.
A heavy, grim silence fell over the room. None of them were surprised that Rome was on a warpath—they had seen Mhok soaked to the skin —but hearing that someone had actually dared to pull a stunt like that right inside the main building was a whole new level of reckless stupidity.
Zack didn’t ask another question. The casual air vanished from his face as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, turned back to his desk, and let his fingers fly across the keyboard.
“What the hell is going on?” Vince asked, his forehead creased in a deep frown. He had never heard of anyone pulling a stunt like this on campus—least of all against someone tied directly to the Arseni family. Normally, nobody was stupid enough to touch their people.
“You really are blind to what goes on around here, aren’t you?” Zack sighed, shaking his head without looking away from his monitors.
“And you know?” Vince countered.
“Of course I do. Those girls chatter about it constantly,” Zack said, leaning back in his chair with a cold, disgusted sneer. “They call themselves the ‘White Fanatics.’ They walk around believing they’re top-tier royalty, superior to everyone else, while the rest of us are just beneath their feet.”
“What kind of garbage is that?” Vince spat, cursing under his breath. He had heard vague rumors of elite snobbery, but he had never paid enough attention to realize it ran this deep. “They actually go around attacking people over this?”
“They think they can get away with anything because they feel entitled,” Zack shrugged, his expression darkening with genuine contempt. “The second someone from another background steps into their space—or worse, outperforms them—they take it as a personal insult. They can’t handle losing, so they resort to petty, cowardly attacks to put people in their place.”
Rome’s expression turned utterly lethal, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “So Mhok wasn’t the first?”
“Far from it.” Zack pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and slid it across the desk toward Rome.
Displayed on the screen was the school’s anonymous student forum—a place none of them ever bothered to look at. The top-trending threads were littered with vile insults, malicious attacks, and blatant harassment directed at non-white students, the language dripping with arrogant venom.
“Are these people completely insane?” Vince muttered, staring at the screen in disbelief.
“They’re delusional,” Zack said flatly. “The administration sweeps it under the rug as ‘harmless student drama,’ but the victims certainly aren’t laughing.”
Click.
“Found it!”
Zack’s sharp voice instantly drew their eyes to the primary monitor.
Though the security feed was slightly grainy, the sequence of events was painfully clear. They watched as Mhok stepped out into the hallway, heading toward the central staircase, only to be blocked by a group of girls. Seconds later, a heavy bucket of filthy water was launched straight at his chest, soaking him from head to toe.
Seeing this Rome gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached, his gray eyes darkening until they looked almost pitch-black. The attack unfold on the monitor before his very eyes sent his blood boiling past the point of restraint.
“That girl leading them looks familiar,” Zack murmured, crossing his arms and tapping a finger against his chin. “Isn’t she Beki? The one who confessed to you near the main gates last Valentine’s Day?”
“Who?” Rome’s voice was an icy rasp, his eyes devoid of any recognition. “I don’t remember her. But I want to know who she is now. Very much.”
Zack shook his head, offering a silent thread of sympathy for the girl. A wild, unpredictable wolf like Rome wasn’t something a spoiled rich girl could tame—he had no idea why anyone would be stupid enough to pull his tail.
“Pull up everything you can find on her and her friends,” Rome ordered coldly. While Zack’s fingers flew across his keyboard, Rome snatched up his friend’s phone and began scrolling through the school forum. Whenever his eyes caught a post mocking or targeting Asian students, he opened the thread, his thumb tapping aggressively across the screen as if trying to smash his fury directly into the digital keys.
“Look, she’s still a girl, man. Just keep your hands off her,” Vince cautioned, frowning when he realized Rome was completely ignoring him. Turning to Zack, he asked, “What’s he actually planning to do?”
“I’m not touching them. Mhok begged me not to,” Rome growled through clenched teeth, his fingers never stopping their frantic typing.
“Then what the hell are you doing right now?”
“I’m tearing them apart in the comments!” Rome barked back, his brow furrowed in genuine frustration. “Mhok said I can’t hit them, so I’m putting them in their place here!”
The three friends exchanged silent, baffled glances. Rome—who usually had the fuse of a dynamite stick and solved problems with his fists—was actually reining himself in simply because of a few words from Mhok.
Zack pressed his lips together to choke back a laugh, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. Vince, still completely lost, opened his mouth to complain again, but Zack quickly grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back before Rome’s stray sparks could ignite him.
“Alright, so what do you want me to do with their full information ?” Zack asked, pointing toward his monitor as streams of personal data, family connections, and schedule logs scrolled across the screen. “Since your guy told you not to handle it yourself, what’s the play?”
“Compile it and send it straight to P’Kian,” Rome said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as a sharp calculation crossed his face. “Mhok told me not to act, so I’ll let P’Kian dismantle them behind the scenes instead. Actually… wait. This might make the perfect bait.”
Zack raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk touching his lips as he caught on. “You mean to draw out the informant networks?”
“What are you two even talking about?” Vince interjected, looking back and forth between them in total confusion. “What bait? What does a bunch of leaked forum data have to do with anything?”
Zack sighed heavily, tossing an arm over Vince’s shoulders to drag him away from Rome’s immediate blast radius. “Come over here, let me break it down for you…”
The next morning, Mhok opened his eyes early. Even though the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, it was still far later than his usual wake-up time as a trained bodyguard. Fortunately, the deep, bone-chilling cold from yesterday had cleared; his limbs were slightly stiff, but his forehead was mercifully cool—no fever.
He sat up, a brief wave of dizziness floating through his head as he blinked away the sleep. When he turned his head toward the side of the bed, a completely unexpected sight caught him off guard.
A tall, broad-shouldered youth was slouched in a wooden chair right beside his bed. Rome’s arms were folded tightly across his chest, his head tilted awkwardly to one side with his eyes shut fast. He was clearly sleeping restlessly, a slight frown tugging at his forehead even in slumber.
Mhok stared at him in quiet stillness, a strange, unfamiliar sensation welling up in his chest. Unconsciously, he pressed his palm flat against his ribs, feeling his heart flutter in an irregular, chaotic rhythm.
It was strange… but he didn’t dislike it at all.
Pulling his knees up to his chest, Mhok rested his chin on his arms. A soft, gentle smile curved his lips, his dark eyes shining with a quiet warmth. For the first time in his memory, he had woken up to find someone standing guard at his bedside—making the vast, cold world around him feel a little less hollow and solitary.
He sat there without making a sound, his tender gaze tracing every angle of Rome’s face. The young master was undeniably handsome. Even if he was loud, hot-tempered, and perpetually complaining, those traits somehow made him feel intensely alive. He carried himself with an effortless, proud confidence, his broad frame radiating an unspoken promise that he would always stand as an unyielding wall between those he cared about and any danger.
Without even realizing it, Mhok had been drawn into that bright, fiercer aura, his eyes naturally tracking Rome wherever he went.
Slowly, Mhok reached out a hand, his fingertips hovering barely an inch away from Rome’s sharp cheekbone. But he stopped himself mid-air.
I shouldn’t cross that line.
Pursing his lips, Mhok let out a barely audible sigh, trying to steady the sudden flutter in his chest while keeping his eyes fixed on the sleeping youth.
A few moments later, Rome stirred. His frown deepened as he slowly blinked his gray eyes open. The moment his vision cleared, he shot an anxious look toward the bed—only to find it completely made, with Mhok nowhere to be seen. A flash of sudden panic crossed the young master’s face as he scrambled to look around the room.Mhok was standing right behind him, unable to hold back a quiet, breathless laugh at the sight.
Pausing for a beat to regain his composure, he murmured, “Aren’t you going to take a shower?”
Rome whipped his head around, practically scrambling out of the chair. He took three quick strides over to Mhok, reaching out without hesitation to press his broad palm firmly against Mhok’s forehead. Only after confirming that there was no fever did he finally let out a long, heavy sigh of relief.
“Why didn’t you wake me up? What if you had fainted out here?” Rome complained unhappily, his brows knit tightly as he swept a critical gaze over Mhok. “And why are you already taking a shower? What if the cold water triggers a fever?”
Mhok looked at him in serene silence, feeling a helpless, fond wave wash over him. He was only now realizing just how much of a fussing nag this young master could be.
“It’s time for class,” Mhok said smoothly, straightening the lapels of his suit before turning to open the front door. “Young Master Rome, you should hurry up too, or you’ll be late.”
With that, Mhok stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him, completely ignoring Rome’s muffled grumbles from inside the room. He pursed his lips, trying to suppress the smile tugging at his mouth, though a flicker of quiet melancholy dimmed his eyes a second later.
He decided then that he needed to keep a careful distance from Rome.
This kind of sweet, lingering warmth was dangerous. If he allowed himself to get used to it, there would come a day when he would no longer be able to pull himself away.
Mhok shook his head, brushing the useless thoughts aside, and walked straight toward the academic building. He was running a little later than usual today, his body still feeling slightly heavy from yesterday’s ordeal. Lacking an appetite for breakfast, he skipped the cafeteria entirely and headed straight for the lecture hall.
Slipping quietly through the back entrance, he made his way to his usual desk. But before he could even settle into his seat or greet Lafu, a tall figure stepped into his path.
Mhok looked up to find Beki standing directly in front of him. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, her bright blue eyes wide with hesitation, her cheeks flushed as she nervously clasped her fingers together.
“I’m… I’m really sorry about yesterday,” Beki stammered, her voice thick with genuine shame and embarrassment.
Mhok blinked in mild surprise. He hadn’t expected an apology so soon, but he was relieved that the situation could be resolved without further chaos. A gentle, polite warmth returned to his eyes, and his lips curved into a soft smile—even as he caught the bitter mutterings of a few nearby students whispering that he was “putting on a show.”
“It’s alright, please don’t dwell on it,” Mhok replied softly, his voice so smooth and reassuring it made Beki’s chest flutter. “Everyone makes mistakes. Let’s just put it behind us.”
Beki’s face burned a deeper crimson. She nodded hastily, mumbled another brief apology, and turned around to hurry back to her seat.
“How did that happened?” Mhok asked, turning to look at Lafu.
Lafu was leaning back in his chair, practically vibrating with silent laughter. It wasn’t until Mhok gave him an impatient look that Lafu finally tapped his phone screen and slid it across the desk.
“Check out the campus forum. Beki and her group originally filmed that whole thing to embarrass you online,” Lafu grinned, tapping a video post.
On screen, the footage showed Mhok getting splashed, sweeping his wet hair back, and exchanging a few quiet words with Rome. Because the video was taken from a distance, the audio was entirely drowned out by background noise.
“You looked ridiculously handsome when you shook the water out of your hair,” Lafu teased. “That single bucket of dirty water somehow made half the girls on campus fall in love with you. Oh—and it also earned you a brand-new ‘Dad.'”
Mhok stared at Lafu’s phone for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. “What ‘Dad’?”
“Look at this thread,” Lafu chuckled, swiping the screen to open a high-engagement post.
Thread Title: I’m so sick of these lower-class Asians invading our campus, they stink. Why did admissions even let them in?
User 01: Exactly. This school was built for European elite families. Why are we wasting resources on third-world charity cases?
User 02: They’re literally living off our families’ tax money.
User 03: Send them all back to where they came from!
↳ Reply to User 03: You’re talking real big. If you’re so noble, why don’t you pack up and leave first?
Mhok froze slightly as his eyes caught the sudden, aggressive reply buried right in the middle of the toxic thread. The user was firing back with ruthless, shameless provocation.
User 03: What, are you defending these yellow monkeys now? You think you’re their father or something?
↳ Reply to User 03: So what if I am? I’m your father too while I’m at it. Don’t forget to show some respect.
User 03: You want to play the hero? Trying to act like a savior?
↳ Reply to User 03: It’s called being the main character—handsome, principled, and way out of your league. Naturally, I fit the role.
User 03: Stop running your mouth online. If you’ve got the guts, show your face and I’ll beat you senseless.
↳ Reply to User 03: Keep calling me dad. Actually, never mind—I’d hate to have a son as stupid as you.
The comment thread spiraled further down from there, escalating into a chaotic flame war. What had started as a malicious attack against Asian students had somehow devolved into a full-scale digital brawl with this mysterious “Dad.”
While Mhok was still trying to process the ridiculousness of the screen, another shadow fell over his desk. Lucio, the heir to the Italian syndicate, walked over with a relaxed smile, though his blue eyes carried a sharp, assessing weight.
“Look at you, a full-blown celebrity overnight,” Lucio drawled smoothly. Once he satisfied himself that Mhok looked completely fine, his posture grew even more laid-back. “I told you yesterday to just let me handle it. We’re project partners, after all, and the Vladio family is always happy to offer a little protection.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The cold, cutting voice didn’t come from Mhok.
Mhok turned his head toward the back door just in time to see Rome striding into the classroom, his dark face practically dripping with lethal hostility.
“Young Master Rome,” Mhok greeted quietly, mild surprise flickering across his features. “What are you doing here?”
“You skipped breakfast,” Rome answered curtly, his harsh tone softening the absolute moment he addressed Mhok. He then set a warm paper bag directly onto Mhok’s desk.
Then, turning to lock eyes with Lucio, Rome’s expression instantly reverted to a fierce, territorial snarl. “As for you—go back to your own damn seat. The Arseni family takes care of its own.”
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