Introduction

~•~

(?)(?)(?) (Unknown POV)

The buildings blurred as the car sped past, and I clenched my fists tightly, trying to control the simmering rage inside me. My teeth ground together, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, fighting to maintain composure.

"Damian," my father's voice trembled, breaking the silence. "You know I didn't want any harm to come to you."

"TTF." I scoffed, my voice dripping with disdain.

"We're almost there. Please, this is your new school, and—" he hesitated, his voice faltering. "I'm afraid there's no other school that will take you in. So plea—"

"Oh, really?" I interrupted, my tone sharp and sarcastic. "It's not like what I want or do matters to you... Now you care? Wow. You should get an award for Most Ridiculous Person Ever!" My voice dripped with venom, every word designed to cut.

"Damian, please—"

"Oh, Alaric, please!" I rolled my eyes, my frustration bubbling over. "Just shut it and face the road. We don't want another accident, now, do we?"

I knew that would strike him deep. And it did. I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain I had endured—the loneliness, the humiliation, the nights on the streets, the tears. I wanted him to understand, even if I had to break him myself.

"Damian…" His voice strained as he paused, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror, but I quickly looked away, refusing to engage.

"…Damian, we both know why you were expelled. You keep doing reckless things—spending money lavishly, beating people up, bribing, threatening, sleeping with—"

"HOLD IT." My voice growled now. "It's my money, isn't it? Have you ever given me any allowance? No, you haven't! So don't lecture me on how I spend it. And don't even act like you've been a shining example yourself."

"Son, I—" he began, but I wasn't done.

"Don't you dare... don't you dare call me 'son.'" My eyes locked with his in the mirror, my fury uncontainable.

"You're my son," he said bluntly.

"Not anymore," I scoffed.

"Son, I have—"

"This... should be the LAST TIME you call me 'son.'" My rage spilled over now, and I couldn't contain it any longer.

He cleared his throat, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I... just want you to stop sleeping around. It could ruin your—"

"HEY." My voice was cold and cutting. "Don't even start with that. They threw themselves at me, and I took what they offered. It's not like you've never done it yourself. Or do you need me to remind you?" I smirked cruelly, savoring the way his face tightened with guilt.

He struggled to regain his footing. "Let's not talk about that. But Damian... you even started a mafia. Don't you value your life? You could get arrested. You can't keep taking advantage of the fact that—"

"Mr... Alaric." I rolled my eyes, shifted in my seat, and looked into the rearview mirror. I leaned forward, lowering my voice into something more dangerous. "Nothing—nothing—will stop me from running the mafia. Even if it costs me my life. It's where I belong... it's what I'm meant to do. I'll keep a low profile, but don't think for a second you can tell me how to live my life. Never."

"We're here," he muttered finally, sighing heavily. His eyes flickered with a mix of defeat and sorrow.

"This is your new school," he added softly.

I stepped out of the car without another word, slamming the door behind me. But I wasn't done. I walked around to his window and leaned down, staring directly into his eyes. My expression was calm, but my gaze was deadly.

"Mr... don't you ever tell me how to live my life again. And don't ever interrupt me when I'm speaking."

Straightening, I slammed my fist against the window, shattering the glass. The sound of the crack, the sight of his panicked face—satisfying. As I turned to leave, I heard him start to sob. I released a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

"TTF," I muttered under my breath, smirking as I strode away.

~•~

The building loomed ahead, and as I approached, I raised a hand to knock on the principal's office door. Before I could, the door swung open—and I froze, staring at the most bizarre sight I'd ever seen.

A grown man, dressed in a formal suit, was sitting at his desk... playing with dolls.

"What the hell?" I thought, barely concealing my disgust. 'Didn't he get enough toys as a child?'

I cleared my throat loudly to announce my presence.

"Woah," he shouted, realizing someone had caught him in the most embarrassing moment of his life.

I couldn't help but smirk as he scrambled to compose himself. His face flushed with embarrassment, and I wondered how long he had been sitting there playing with... dolls.

The room smelled faintly of wood polish, mixed with a hint of floral-scented air freshener. It felt stuffy and sealed, as if it hadn't been touched in days. A heavy wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, papers scattered across it alongside office supplies—pens, a stapler, and an old computer with a flickering screen that hadn't been touched in years.

The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with textbooks, certificates, and what appeared to be an odd assortment of old action figures... and dolls. I raised an eyebrow, taking it all in.

'Is this the office of a grown man, or am I in some bizarre daycare center?'

"Uhmm, you may co—come in," he stammered, still not looking me in the eye. His fingers twitched nervously, and I couldn't help but notice how his hand hovered near a small, ornate teacup on his desk, trying to look busy.

"I'm already sitting... you would know that if you weren't playing with your princess dolls," I said, mockingly.

His face grew redder, and I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

"Well, if you had manners, you would've knocked before entering someone's room," he muttered, attempting to put me in my place. His eyes still avoided mine.

'Was he really daring to question me? Was he testing me like that? Wait... does he think I'm just some normal student?' I thought, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

He expected me to apologize, but I had other plans.

I paused, letting my silence stretch out, giving him hope that I was about to relent. His eyes flickered between me and his desk, searching for a reason to act like this wasn't the most humiliating thing that had happened to him.

I could see it in his eyes—his hopeful look, the one that screamed, Go on, I'll forgive you.

I smirked, drawing out my response. "Well... even a dummy knows that locking your door is a normal thing to do for security... and not leaving it open when someone knocks. But since a dummy can't seem to lock a door, even when they're doing something very stupid—like playing with dolls—who are you to be dumber than a dummy? Maybe you didn't have a childhood and grew up with mental issues. So, I can't blame you too much... I blame the person who hired you to be the principal of this school. I just hope you don't train psychopaths here. You should be at the asylum, taking care of your brain tumor. PLAYING WITH DOLLS?? That's messed up, man. As grown as you are, you're an infant adult. Even a baby knows when and where to play with dolls. Sorry, sorry for your loss, but I just hope this whole thing isn't heritable. No one wants to see another generation of you doing this... and yet, you'll be telling your children to aspire to be president. I mean, THINK before you speak. Just try to."

His mouth grew wider with each word, and I had to hold back a laugh. His face was priceless—mouth hanging open, hands trembling. I snapped a picture of him, his shocked expression frozen in time.

'What did he think? He could sass me up? Oh hell no.'

I leaned back in my chair, mockingly smirking, watching him struggle to compose himself. His mouth was still hanging open, like a fish gasping for air.

I stretched out my hand toward him, smiling innocently. "Hello... I'm Damian, Damian Alaric," I said sweetly, giving him my most innocent look.

He hesitated, unsure whether to take my hand. He glanced at it, then back at me, his face faltering. The confusion in his eyes was clear.

But it wasn't until he noticed the simmering anger beneath my calm exterior that he quickly rushed to shake my hand. His grip was shaky, as if he were holding on to something fragile. I could see beads of sweat forming on his brow.

'Was he nervous? Did he really think he had a chance against me?'

"Looking... for something?" I asked, my irritation now rising as I watched him fumble.

"No... no... um, I just... it's nothing. I just... uh—" he stammered, his eyes darting everywhere except at me.

"Save it," I snapped, annoyed. "We both know you're not looking for anything."

His eyes grew wide with shock, and his posture stiffened. I could see the doubt creep into his expression.

Before he could say more, a knock came at the door.

(Co—co)

I turned instinctively toward the sound. The door creaked open, revealing a figure—someone I hadn't expected. She was... striking. Blue hair, shimmering under the dim light. Her presence immediately dominated the room.

Her blue hair cascaded down her back, waves shimmering. She adjusted the little black e-girl skirt she wore, making sure everything was just right. Her hips swayed confidently, carrying a grace that was undeniable. Her gaze flicked toward me before focusing on the principal, who began to speak, ushering her inside.

'Damn... fuck...' I thought,

I stood to my feet, not wanting to be caught staring at her. I forced myself to respect her, though the temptation was there. I wasn't the kind of guy to act like a fool on my first day.

I caught a whiff of her scent—ocean breeze. It was calming, yet... a little cold?

I opened my eyes to read her, but she was hard to figure out. Cold, yes, but harmless. Maybe she was like me in some ways, or maybe she just had a mask on. I wasn't sure. There was something about her that didn't quite match her appearance. Reading people had become a habit for me—something I used to set myself apart from others. And she... she intrigued me.