Monday 6:00 AM
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm screamed right on the dot at 6:00 AM, shrill enough to punch a hole through the fabric of reality.
A limp hand shot out from under the heap of blankets, slamming the snooze button like it was a mortal enemy.THUNK!
Ethan back in his mind "Ugh… why did I decide to do this again?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
Then, like a bad movie flashing in his brain, the memories hit him — hard.The fight.
The fight. The four goons. those assholes from New Star Academy. The moment he ran out of breath mid-fight his burning lungs and almost got his ass kicked. The humiliation. The shame that clung to him like bad cologne.
[Leon- Right… I'm weak as hell.]
With a grunt, he forced himself out of bed and then moved out of his room, making sure not to wake Izzy, who was sleeping in the next room. He tiptoed to the door, grabbed his sneakers, and slipped outside.
The cold morning air hit him like a slap to the face. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp morning chill before he took off running.
Thirty minutes later…
"Hah... Hah… HAAAHH—"
Ethan collapsed onto the ground, gasping like a fish out of water. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it was trying to break free from his chest.
"Shit… I am so out of shape…" he groaned, staring up at the sky.
He wanted to lie there forever, but after a few minutes, he forced himself to stand. Barely. His legs felt like jelly as he stumbled forward.
"The gym... I need to get to the gym… before I pass out."
Welcome to the Grindhouse
The gym was about a fifteen-minute walk from his house—a strategic decision. If Izzy ever found out, she'd never let him hear the end of it.
The place was called "Titan Forge Gym", and damn, it looked like something straight out of a sports movie. The front entrance had a massive, glass-paneled door with a metallic sign above it. The interior smelled like a mix of iron, sweat, and hard work.
As he walked in, his eyes darted around.
[Leon— It's my first time at a gym after all; I didn't need to in my previous life, you know. gangster just need to live his daily life instead of Gym hahah.]
Boxing rings were occupied with fighters, their gloves thudding against punching bags and flesh alike. Treadmills, weight machines, barbells, and benches lined the walls, with muscular dudes and fit women lifting insane amounts of weight. The air buzzed with the sound of grunts, clangs, and an occasional victory roar from some guy finishing his reps.
"Hooo… this place is intense," Ethan muttered.
A large, burly man approached him. Bald, thick mustache, arms the size of tree trunks. He had the vibe of a no-nonsense drill sergeant.
"New face?" The man's voice was deep and gruff.
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. I wanna join. As you can see…" He gestured to his pathetic excuse of a physique. "I'm weak as hell."
The man snorted. "Yeah, kid, I can see that. You need a LOT of work."
Ethan in his mind, huh! Fuck this damn musclehead; if I were still Leon, you would be begging for forgivness by now.
"I know. But I only have a week. Can you at least make me look like… not a total punching bag?"
The trainer laughed. "A week? Ha! I can but that's going to cost you."
Before the man could continue, Ethan whipped out his black credit card with a smirk.
"Money isn't the problem," he said dramatically. "The problem is my body is trash. And I wanna fix that."
The trainer froze.
His eyes locked onto the black credit card, and for a moment, his brain short-circuited.
"Is that… the VVIP Black Credit Card?!" the trainer screamed internally. Is this brat some hidden young master of a big empirial corporation? "Hey bra... I mean, dear sir, would you like a VIP mambership?"
Ethan chuckled, his voice turning villainous.
"Khahahaha! I'm Richy Richards now, baby!"
The trainer snapped out of it and sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, kid. Call me Coach Arnold. We start now."
Death by Workout one and a half hours later…
Death by Workout
One and a Half Hours Later…
Ethan staggered down the sidewalk like a zombie freshly risen from the grave, every inch of his body howling in protest.
Each step felt like betrayal. His legs wobbled, his arms hung uselessly at his sides, and his shirt clung to him like a sweaty second skin.
"Who would've thought that I, the great Leon, would ever be reduced to this sorry excuse for a meat sack one day?" Ethan thought with a bitter chuckle in the back of his mind.
"Agh… I think I died somewhere between the push-ups and the squats..." he muttered aloud, dragging one foot after the other up the porch steps.
His hand reached for the front door handle, trembling with exhaustion—
SLAM!!
The door violently burst open, smacking him square across the nose with a wet, meaty THWACK.
"GAH—!" Ethan yelped, his body jerking backward like a broken marionette, crashing to the ground.
THUD.
He lay there, blinking up at the sky in slow, confused horror.The face that greeted him was not a kind one.It was Izzy. And she looked ready to murder someone.
"ETHAN!! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!" she shrieked, her voice making his already scrambled brain rattle harder.
"Uh—" Ethan immediately forgot the concept of pain, fear instantly overriding every neuron.
Leon's ghostly voice groaned inside his mind."Yeah… kid, you're done today. Rest in peace."
Ethan slapped on the fakest, most desperate smile he could muster. "G-Good morning, Izzy! Haha... ha…?"
Izzy did not laugh.Hell, she didn't even blink.Instead, she planted both fists on her hips, her eyes practically shooting laser beams.
"GOOD?! GOOD?!" she roared, taking a threatening step forward. "YOU LITTLE—!!"
BOOM!
The verbal explosion that followed made Ethan flinch so hard he half-expected the neighbors to come out and call child services.
For a full five minutes, Izzy annihilated him with words alone — faster, harder, and more brutal than any cardio session he'd ever suffered through.
"—AND WHAT IF YOU GOT YOURSELF KILLED, HUH?! YOU THINK YOU'RE INVINCIBLE JUST 'CAUSE YOU WATCHED A FEW ACTION MOVIES?!"
"—NO PHONE, NO NOTE, NOTHING!! I THOUGHT YOU WERE KIDNAPPED OR SOME SHIT!"
"—AND LOOK AT YOU, YOU LOOK LIKE A HALF-BAKED CROISSANT!"
Ethan was now kneeling, forehead practically kissing the floor, mumbling frantic apologies.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!"
At one point, he considered just crawling under the couch and living there forever.
Damage Controled
Izzy finally let out a long, exhausted sigh and plopped onto the battered living room couch like a deflating balloon.The springs gave a pathetic little squeak in protest.
Ethan, still in his pitiful, deeply apologetic bow like a prisoner begging for parole, cracked one eye open and peeked up at her carefully... like a meerkat checking for predators.
He gulped.Maybe... just maybe... the beast had gone back to sleep.
"S-So... uh... are we... cool now?" he asked, voice trembling as if speaking too loud might reactivate her fury.
Izzy tilted her head and gave him a look. Not an angry look, not anymore, but the classic big sister "you better not lie me" look.
Another sigh escaped her, heavier this time.
"Just..." she muttered, massaging her temples, "tell me where you went."
Ethan shifted awkwardly on the floor, scratching the back of his messy bedhead.
"I… just went for a morning walk. That's it."
Izzy's eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits.
"Uh-huh," she said dryly. "A walk.
[Leon-well, it wasn't walking; it was long hell running instead.]
Before he could squeak out an excuse, Izzy leaned forward, voice cracking with emotion. "Huh? Then why the hell didn't you tell me?" she barked.Her fists clenched into the couch cushions, knuckles white.
"Do you even know how much I was worried?! If—if somethin' had happened to you again..." her voice caught, trembling. "What would I have done?"
The words hit Ethan harder than any punch.The guilt weighed down on him like a mountain.
"Uh… well…" He stared at his knees, unable to meet her eyes. "You work so late... You barely get any sleep, Izzy. I didn't wanna wake you up. You looked... peaceful for once."
The room went silent.A different kind of silence.Not anger. Not even tension.It was... sad, soft, and understanding.
Izzy's glare melted into something far more fragile. She sagged back against the couch, her whole frame relaxing as if the fight had just drained right out of her.
She looked... guilty.
Ethan caught it instantly and internally fist-pumped."YES! It worked! Operation: Sympathetic Sister Success!"
Izzy dropped her gaze to the floor, mumbling under her breath, "Ethan… sorry."
His head snapped up.
"Huh? Wait—why are you apologizing?! I'm the one who snuck out like an idiot."
Izzy shrugged weakly."For yellin' so much. For... y'know, freaking out like a crazy person."
Ethan grinned wide enough to show all his teeth.
"No problem! You're my big sis! You got full rights to scold me. Hell, you could even beat me up if you wanted."
Izzy's eyebrow twitched.
A dangerous smirk curled onto her lips.
"Oh? Really?" she purred.
Instant regret slammed into Ethan like a truck.
"W-Wait, no, no, I-I didn't mean literally!" he stammered, scooting back an inch. "Verbal abuse only! Verbal abuse onlyyy!"
"Pfffft!" Izzy snorted so hard she nearly fell off the couch."Idiot," she chuckled, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.
Ethan breathed a heavy sigh of relief—
BAD IDEA.
Pain exploded across every muscle in his body like fireworks.
"AAGGHH—!!!"He crumpled onto the carpet, gasping dramatically for air.
"My body... it's betrayin' me...! I'm dying...!"
Izzy just sat there, watching him writhe, arms crossed, a smug look plastered on her face.
"Serves you right," she said, utterly unbothered, kicking a pillow at his head.
POOF.
The pillow bounced off Ethan's face harmlessly, but he groaned anyway, as if mortally wounded.
Leon's voice rumbled with laughter somewhere deep inside Ethan's battered brain.
"Kid... you're body is hopeless. Damn it hurts."
Ethan smiled weakly against the carpet.
"But still... worth it," he muttered.
Ethan's face smushed into the cushion at home.
Dead asleep.
Snoring softly, as a tiny line of drool escaped the corner of his mouth.His body twitched now and then, like a broken marionette that had its strings cut after that Hellish self-inflicted workout.
Meanwhile — New Star Academy, First Year, Class Four
Lunch break time
The classroom buzzed with the usual chaotic energy — kids talking, laughing, a few half-hearted attempts at pretending to study.
At the very front, hunched over his notebook, a skinny boy with messy hair and thick round glasses scribbled furiously.Pencil scratching against paper like it was in a life-or-death battle.
This was Jamie — quiet, nerdy, and way too focused for the room he was in.
Suddenly—
THUD!
"OW—!" Jamie yelped, nearly eating his notebook as his face smacked the desk.
Behind him stood a grinning thug-looking boy, who looked way too proud of himself.His name was Derek Slater — buzz-cut hair, sharp nose, thick eyebrows that made him look permanently pissed, and a crooked grin that screamed troublemaker.A silver chain dangled from his neck, and he wore his uniform jacket open like he thought it made him look cool.
"Tch. You scribblin' like some damn nerd, Jamie-boy?"" Derek sneered, slapping Jamie's head again for good measure.
Jamie clenched his jaw but stayed silent, gripping his pencil tight enough it almost snapped.
Behind Derek, two empty desks gathered dust.Zane and Ty—the other two stooges of Class 4's delinquent squad—were still rotting in the hospital after getting sent there courtesy of Ethan's dark alley brawl not too long ago.
Apparently, it was gonna take a full damn week before those two were stitched back together.
And if Derek was feeling brave without them around?Bad news for anyone within punching range.
At the back of the classroom, lounging like a bored king on the last-row desk, was Brent Maddox—the undisputed boss of Class Four.Shaggy black hair fell into his lazy green eyes as he tapped away on his phone, completely ignoring the chaos around him.He wore his uniform messily, the sleeves rolled up to show off inked tattoos snaking down his arms.A crooked, toothpick-thin smile always played on his lips, even when he wasn't paying attention.
On Brent's desk, casually ignoring both the boys and the world, sat Roxy Hollis.Roxy was pure chaos wrapped in a pink plaid skirt—dyed cherry-red hair, piercings in both ears, and heavy eyeliner that made her violet eyes pop dangerously.She was painting her nails neon green, blowing on them dramatically with every stroke.
"Yawn~" Roxy muttered. "This class is so dead without those idiots here."
Brent didn't even look up from his game."Mhm," he grunted lazily, thumb tapping the screen.
Then—the classroom door creaked open.
Heads turned.
In walked Mia—the pride of First-Year Class Two.
Mia was graceful, and too perfect for this godforsaken school.Silky black hair framed her pale, serious face, and she walked like she owned every hallway she stepped into.Even the delinquents straightened up a little when she passed by.
Trailing behind Mia shyly was her best friend, Rina Quinn.Rina was the complete opposite—small, mousey, with soft brown hair braided to the side and oversized glasses that magnified her big blue eyes.She clutched a stack of books to her chest like they were a shield against the world.
Jamie barely had a second to sigh in relief at the distraction when Derek clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Tch. Fuckin' nerd parade," Derek muttered under his breath, watching Mia and Rina walk past.
He slunk back to his seat without a word, his mood visibly souring.
Mia leaned down to whisper something to Rina, her voice soft but stern.Rina nodded obediently, sliding into the first-row seat near the window—the "good kid" seats.
Jamie, seeing the opening, yeeted himself out of his desk.Grabbing his half-finished notes, he muttered a quick, "Uh bathroom! Emergency!" and dashed toward the door.
Escape Successful.
Mia and Rina, meanwhile, exchanged a glance.
"Wanna go to the cafeteria?" Mia asked casually, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Rina lit up like a Christmas tree. "Y-Yeah! I heard they have strawberry parfaits today...!"
Mia smiled warmly, patting her friend's head before leading the way out.
As soon as the girls disappeared down the hall, the atmosphere inside Class 4 soured.
Roxy stopped blowing on her nails and clicked her tongue sharply. Roxy sneered, her foot tapping against Brent's desk.
"The fuck, Derek? You just stop like a little bitch soon as that stuck-up princess walks in?"
Derek turned his glare on her."You askin' like you don't know," he snapped.
Derek leaned closer, voice dropping into a harsh whisper.
Derek scoffed. " She's his sister. That bastard Dany's little princess. You remember what happened last time, dumbass. If he even sniffs that we're messin' with her again And if she gets all upset again, like last time... he's gonna flip his shit."
Roxy rolled her eyes dramatically.
Even Brent paused his game for a moment, glancing up with an annoyed grunt.
"Tch. As if we need that headache again," Brent muttered, tossing his phone aside.
There was a beat of uneasy silence in the classroom.Even for this rowdy bunch, pissing off Dany Carter — Mia's older brother and a notorious former second-year terror — was not something anyone wanted to experience again.
Not after last time.
TO BE CONTINUED....