The Price of Being Born Wrong.
Chapter 31 - The Price of Being Born Wrong.
The classroom smelled of sweat, dust, and something metallic that never quite faded. The walls, once white, had turned the color of old bones, streaked with water damage and the careless marks of students who had long since given up. The default class was where they sent the ones who had nothing-the ones born to lose.
Ryuga sat in the back, his chair missing a leg, wobbling every time he shifted. His uniform, secondhand and fraying at the edges, clung to his frame like a burden. The teacher droned on about equations, but what did numbers matter when the only math Ryuga needed was how much he had left for rent?
The air was thick with resignation. No one here believed in a future.
Except maybe him. But belief didn't put food on the table.
At home-if you could call it that-mold crept up the corners of the walls, and the lights flickered as if unsure whether to keep going. The single-room apartment held too much silence, too much cold. His younger sister, Mei, curled up in the thin blanket on the mattress, her small body barely rising with each breath. She had been sick again. Ryuga sighed, running a hand through his hair.
He was seventeen. He was supposed to be thinking about exams, about clubs, about a future. Instead, his life was an endless cycle of working odd jobs, scraping together enough for food, and keeping Mei alive.
There were no dreams in the default class.
There was only survival.
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The Yamamichi estate stood like a monument to power, its towering walls shielding it from the city beyond. The main classes of Roward Academy were filled with students who would inherit companies, empires, entire legacies. They walked with the certainty of those who had never known struggle.
Ryo Yamamichi sat by the window in a classroom where the air smelled of fresh paper and imported coffee. The desks were polished, the students impeccably dressed. A professor spoke about economic theory, but Ryo's mind was elsewhere.
Her father, Harate Yamamichi, had called a family meeting the night before. Another battle over property, inheritance, and control. The men in suits argued in cold, clipped tones, their words less about family and more about leverage. Ryo had sat there, silent, watching her father dictate the fates of people like they were chess pieces.
Her mother had died long ago, and with her had gone the last trace of warmth in the house. Ryo had stopped searching for it.
Her world was one of wealth, power, and expectations.
Her grades had to be perfect. Her reputation untouchable. And most importantly, she had to be useful-a daughter who upheld the Yamamichi name, not a girl with foolish dreams.
But despite all the wealth, despite all the privilege, Ryo felt like a prisoner.
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Both of them were trapped.
Ryuga, by poverty. Ryo, by power.
Ryuga had nothing-no money, no security, no future worth speaking of. Every day was a fight just to exist.
Ryo had everything-wealth, influence, a future carved in gold. But none of it belonged to her.
Neither had the luxury of choice.
But the difference was this-Ryuga knew he was in chains. He had spent his life fighting them.
Ryo? She had spent hers pretending they weren't there.
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The city had turned silver beneath the storm. Streetlights reflected off the slick pavement, casting broken halos on the waterlogged streets.
Ryo pulled her coat tighter around her frame, ignoring the weight of the rain soaking through the fabric. Her driver was late. Again. She should have waited in the school lobby, should have let them fuss over her like they always did.
Instead, she walked.
Her polished shoes made sharp clicks against the pavement, but as she neared the edge of the district, that sound disappeared into the uneven cobblestone. The clean streets of Roward faded into something rougher-cracked pavement, old neon signs flickering, the scent of damp asphalt and rust lingering in the air.
She shouldn't be here.
That was the first thought drilled into her since childhood. The clear divide between them and the others.
And then she saw him.
Standing beneath a dim streetlight, barely more than a shadow in the rain.
He was tall-broad-shouldered in a way that suggested work, not wealth. His hoodie clung to him, rain-drenched, dark hair plastered against his forehead. A cigarette dangled loosely between his fingers. Unlit.
Their eyes met.
Sharp. Unimpressed.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then she spoke, voice flat, uninterested.
"You know it's raining, right?"
Ryuga blinked. His expression didn't change. He barely even looked at her.
Then, slowly, he brought the cigarette to his lips, rolling it between his fingers. Casual. Bored.
"You don't say."
Ryo raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you trying to light it?"
Ryuga clicked the lighter once. Twice. It sparked, then died against the rain. Useless. He let out a slow breath, as if considering. Then, finally, he shrugged.
"Dunno. Just something to do."
The conversation was going nowhere. Ryo should have just walked away. But something about him-his complete lack of concern, his detachment-kept her standing there.
"You know, you'd have better luck smoking somewhere that isn't-" she gestured vaguely, "-actively trying to put it out."
Ryuga finally looked at her. Really looked.
His gaze dragged from the drenched strands of her dark hair, down to the pristine uniform she wore, the kind that cost more than his monthly rent. He could already tell. Rich. Untouchable. Out of place.
"You always give strangers advice?"
Ryo crossed her arms. "Only the ones doing something stupid."
A pause.
Then to her absolute surprise-he laughed.
It was low, rough around the edges. Not mocking, not cruel. Just... amused.
"Well, aren't you helpful."
Ryo exhaled, shaking her head. "Forget it."
She turned to leave, expecting the conversation to be over.
But before she could step away, Ryuga spoke again.
"What about you?"
She stopped. "What?"
He nodded towards her-towards the polished shoes now scuffed against the uneven pavement, the tailored coat that didn't belong here, the slight frown that suggested she didn't quite know what she was doing, either.
"Why are you standing in the rain?"
Ryo hesitated.
The right answer was because my driver is late. Because I needed air. Because I wanted to be anywhere but home.
Instead, she found herself saying-
"Dunno. Just something to do."
For the first time, Ryuga actually looked surprised.
And then, he did something even stranger.
He smirked.
Nothing grand, nothing arrogant. Just a slight curve of his lips, a ghost of amusement.
Then, without another word, he flicked the useless lighter closed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked past her-disappearing into the city like he had never been there at all.
Ryo stood there, watching the flickering streetlight, listening to the rain.
She would forget this moment.
For now.
But soon, she would remember.