The cold night whispered as Zaire walked alone through the empty streets, the silver moonlight laying a pale blanket across his path. Beside him, Rael trotted silently, his presence both comforting and mysterious.
They passed the forest edge, crossed the warehouse district, and finally stopped near the towering gates of Zaire's home — the mansion of his father.
Zaire stood still, staring at it. Trembling. A war raged inside him.
"Should we go in… Rael?"
The dog let out a small yip, wagging his tail with a spark of encouragement.
Zaire exhaled slowly and nodded.
If he was going to face the truth... it had to be now.
He pushed open the gate and stepped inside. The halls of the mansion felt colder than the outside world. Empty. Hollow. Eyes — once familiar — stared at him from every corner. The servants, the guards, the house staff… they looked at him not with recognition, but with confusion. As if he was a stranger. As if the boy they knew this morning was no longer the one standing before them.
He reached the sitting room.
There, he saw them — his mother sobbing into his father's chest, his father holding a crumpled letter in one trembling hand.
Both of their faces were pale. Hollow. Sad.
The moment they saw Zaire, they froze.
Then — they rushed toward him.
They wrapped their arms around him, trembling.
"Why would you do something like this to your own parents?!" His mother's voice cracked like glass.
Zaire stood speechless — not because of their words, but because of the pain in their eyes.
His father lifted the letter. "You wrote that you were leaving forever… that we were bad parents. That you never wanted to see us again."
Zaire's heart twisted. His voice was low. "I… never wrote this."
Then it struck him — a chilling thought.
Those bastards... They made this whole story. Manipulated everything. Saddened my parents just to erase me.
He clenched his jaw, but forced himself to soften.
"I was... disturbed. I didn't mean to hurt you both."
His mother hugged him tighter. His father let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
Then — a slap to the back of his head.
His mother glared at him through tears. "You're still grounded. Go to your room! Tomorrow's your first day of college!"
Zaire laughed faintly. "Yes, ma'am."
In his room, Zaire told a servant to prepare food for Rael, who sat in the corner, tail swaying gently. As the dog quietly ate, Zaire lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His thoughts swirled.
What do I do now? Where do I begin?
The night passed in silent chaos.
---
The Next Morning
Sunlight crept into his room. Zaire got ready for college, dressing in quiet reflection.
At breakfast, he asked casually, "Where's Uncle Ross and Jimmy?"
His father replied while flipping a page in the paper. "Business trip. New York. They'll be gone a month."
Zaire froze for a second. Perfect.
He nodded, sipping his tea.
Just then —
BAM!
A sharp punch landed on his shoulder.
He turned. Reina stood there, face blazing with fury.
"What were you thinking last night, idiot?!"
Elior stood beside her, calm as always — one hand in his pocket, the other slinging his bag lazily over his shoulder.
"Guys," Elior said. "We're going to be late."
"Shut up, Elior!" Reina shouted.
Zaire winced and rubbed his arm. "Nice to see you too, Reina."
After some scolding and back-and-forth bickering, the three climbed into the waiting black car.
As the chauffeur drove through the streets, the tension shifted. Reina and Zaire threw jabs. Elior kept the peace, smiling faintly.
Invisible to all, a faint shimmer trailed them — the spiritual form of Rael. His black ethereal shape darted unseen through shadows, his golden eyes glowing, always watching.
They reached the college gates.
The buzz around them was instant. Students whispered. All eyes turned.
Zaire, Reina, and Elior — heirs of the city's biggest empires — had arrived.
Inside the class, the professor praised Reina and Elior for their curiosity and intellect.
Zaire, meanwhile, leaned on his elbow, half-yawning.
Until —
He saw her.
A girl in the front row. Glasses on. Eyes sharp. Attention unbroken.
For the first time, Zaire felt something strange — a pull. A spark.
But beauty was fleeting.
THWACK!
A chalk piece slammed into his forehead.
The class burst into laughter.
The professor glared. "Out, Mr. Zaire."
Zaire stood, brushing the chalk dust off his head, grinning like a rogue.
Even with godly powers… I still get hit by chalk.
He walked out of the room, hands in pockets, smirking.
And somewhere, Rael watched — invisible and faithful.
---
End of Chapter Three