Aldrich's entry into the classroom was met with an immediate, heavy silence.
As the door swung open, every set of eyes in the room turned to look at him—his classmates and the stern woman in the front of the room who stood behind the podium, wearing a formal outfit that screamed authority.
"So nice of you to join us so late, Mister Aldaman..." she said with a sharp edge to her voice, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.
Her gaze flicked to his silver hair—a trait unmistakably tied to the Aldaman clan, renowned for their exclusive bloodline.
Still, his name was unknown to her.
"Aldrich, ma'am," he replied, feeling a twinge of awkwardness.
He had arrived at the class already in session, and it seemed everyone else had been here long before him.
"Mister Aldrich Aldaman, the latecomer rebel," she continued, her voice laced with sarcasm.
"Seeing as you don't seem to care much about punctuality, how about you take my place today and enlighten the class on the use of Art?!"
