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 burly man squinted at him like Ethan was some kinda joke. "Yeah, kid, I can see that. You need a LOT of work."
Ethan gave a sheepish grin on the outside.On the inside?Huh! Fuck this damn musclehead. If I were still Leon, you'd be lickin' the damn floor, buddy.
"I've made bigger men than you cry for their mothers," the Inner Leon muttered darkly in his head."You think arms make a king? Try running an empire."
But Ethan kept his mouth shut — barely. He needed this gym, not a fist through his teeth.
"Alright, kid," the man grunted. "Name's Briggs. You want in, you play by the rules. No whining, no skipping, no excuses."
Ethan nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Got it."
Inside, Leon smirked."'No excuses' is just another way of saying 'no weakness.' Good. About time you grew some fangs, kid."
Ethan grinned wide. "I know. But I only got a week. Can you at least make me look like... y'know, not a total punching bag?"
The trainer — a hulking beast of a man — barked out a laugh. "A week? Ha! Kid, I can do it, but that's gonna cost you."
Before the man could even finish his thought, Ethan — without missing a beat — whipped out a Sleek black credit card and held it up with two fingers, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips.
"Shiiing~" (imaginary sparkle sound)
"Money isn't the problem," Ethan said, voice dropping low and dramatic. "The problem is my body's trash. And I wanna fix that."
For a full two seconds, the trainer just stared.
His eyes locked onto the card like it was the holy grail. His brain completely blue-screened.Is that... the VVIP Black Credit Card?!Who the hell is this brat?! Some hidden young master from an imperial conglomerate?! A mafia prince?!
The man straightened up immediately, almost saluting.
"H-Hey, bra— I mean, dear sir," he stammered, suddenly formal. "Would you, uh... would you like a VIP membership?"
Ethan chuckled darkly, Inner Leon leaking into his voice.A low, villainous laugh rumbled from his chest.
"Khahahaha! I'm Richy Richards now, baby!"
Damn, Ethan thought, I couldn't hold my self back... but damn, it feels good.
The trainer — no, Coach Arnold, apparently — snapped out of his panic and gave a long suffering sigh.
"Alright, kid," Arnold said, rubbing his temples. "Fine. Call me Coach Arnold. We start now. No refunds. No crying."
Ethan cracked his knuckles, a devilish glint in his eye.
"Good," he muttered under his breath."Time to tear this trash heap down and rebuild a weapon."
Death by WorkoutOne and a Half Hours Later...
Ethan staggered down the sidewalk like a half-dead zombie, every muscle fiber in his body screaming bloody murder us.
Each step was an act of betrayal. His legs shook like overcooked noodles. His arms dangled limp at his sides. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to him like a drowning man refusing to let go.
Is this... what death feels like? he thought numbly.
"Who would've thought... that I, the great Leon Mercer, would be reduced to this sorry excuse of a meat sack?!"A bitter, almost pitiful chuckle escaped him.
"Agh… I think I died somewhere between the push-ups... and the goddamn squats..." Ethan groaned aloud, dragging one foot pathetically after the other up the front porch steps.
His trembling hand reached for the door handle.
Almost there... Victory...
SLAM!!
Without warning, the door violently burst open, smacking him square across the face with a disgusting, wet THWACK.
"GAH—!" Ethan yelped, flying backward like he'd been sniped, landing flat on his back with a loud, crunchy THUD.
He lay there, dazed, blinking slowly up at the evening sky.
So this is how I die... he thought blankly.Death by workout... finished off by my own damn front door... Legendary.
A shadow loomed over him. A very angry shadow.
Ethan squinted.
Hovering above him, arms crossed and face set to maximum murder mode, was Izzy.
And she did not look happy.
"You absolute moron," she growled, voice dripping with enough venom to kill a small horse.
Ethan opened his mouth to say something witty. Instead, all that came out was a pathetic wheeze.
Izzy rolled her eyes so hard he swore he heard them creak.
"Get up, idiot ," she snapped, grabbing him roughly by the arm and yanking him to his feet like he weighed nothing.
Ethan wobbled, eyes spinning.
Goddamn... she's got the strength of a demon.
"Seriously, what the hell happened to you?" Izzy demanded, giving him a once-over — her nose wrinkling at the toxic levels of gym sweat.
"I..." Ethan croaked, voice hoarse."I went to war."
"Yeah? Looks like you lost," she deadpanned, dragging him inside by the collar like a drowned cat.
Inside the house...
"ETHAN!! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!"Izzy shrieked so loud the walls shook. Ethan swore he heard glass cracking somewhere.
"Uh—"Ethan immediately forgot the concept of pain, fear steamrolling every single brain cell he had left.
Inside his mind, Leon's ghostly voice groaned,"Yeah… kid, we're dead again. Rest in peace."
Ethan slapped on the fakest, most desperate smile known to mankind."G-Good morning, Izzy! Haha... ha…?"
Izzy didn't laugh.Hell, she didn't even blink.She just stepped forward with the cold inevitability of a boss fight cutscene — fists clenched, eyes blazing murder beams.
"GOOD?! GOOD?!" she roared.
BOOM!!The verbal nuclear explosion that followed made Ethan flinch so hard, he legit thought the neighbors would call the SWAT team.
For five brutal, soul-crushing minutes, Izzy obliterated him with nothing but pure, weaponized words —Faster. Harder. Deadlier than any gym workout he'd just survived.
"—AND WHAT IF YOU GOT YOURSELF KILLED, HUH?! YOU THINK YOU'RE INVINCIBLE 'CAUSE YOU WATCHED A FEW GODDAMN ACTION MOVIES?!"
"—NO PHONE, NO NOTE, NOTHING!! I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN A FREAKIN' DITCH SOMEWHERE, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!!"
"—AND LOOK AT YOU, YOU LOOK LIKE A HALF-BAKED CROISSANT!"
By the time she was done, Ethan was kneeling on the floor, head bowed like a war prisoner awaiting execution, a single tear glistening dramatically in the corner of his eye.
"So this... is how I die again..." he thought."Not in battle. Not heroically....But under the rage of sister fueled by anxiety and maternal instincts."
Leon sighed in his head."Tough luck, kid. Even I wouldn't want to pick this fight ever again."
"U-understood, ma'am…" Ethan squeaked, his voice barely a whisper.
Izzy crossed her arms, glaring down at him like a final boss who hadn't even gone serious mode yet.
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.
Damage Controled
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 a hiss 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.
Somehow — some goddamn miracle somehow — Ethan managed to peel himself off the living room floor.
His legs were pure jelly. His back felt like it had been steamrolled by a herd of elephants. His arms? Basically two floppy noodles barely hanging onto his shoulders.
Every step to his room was a small, personal war.Creak... stumble... wobble... CRASH!(He definitely knocked over a lamp. Totally not his fault.)
"Almost there... almost there..." Ethan chanted weakly, dragging himself through the hallway like a soldier crawling through enemy territory.
Leon's voice sighed inside his skull, sounding just as done."we're embarrassing, kid. Even stabbed multiple times i was walking on my tow feets and now this pathetic excuse of a body danm it, danm it."
"Daaanm It," Ethan mumbled under his breath.
Finally, blessedly, he reached the sanctuary that was his room.
He didn't even bother changing clothes. Didn't brush his teeth. Didn't set an alarm.Didn't care about a damn thing anymore.
He just faceplanted into his bed with the grace of a falling brick.
PLOP.
The mattress groaned in protest under the sudden dead weight, springs squealing like tortured mice.
Ethan's face smushed deep into the pillow.
Dead asleep.
Out cold.
If someone screamed "FIRE!" right now, the only thing he'd do was drool a little harder.
Narration drifted through his half-dead brain as he slipped away:
"Here lies Ethan... seventeen, weak, sore as fuck... survived death-by-cardio, death-by-Izzy, and one random rogue door to the nose."
"Rest easy, soldier."
Zzzzz...
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....