Chapter 6: A Call from Mom

The ringing of Nam's phone made him jump. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen—it was his mother.

"How are you doing?" she asked gently.

Nam and his parents had agreed that unless it was an emergency, they would only call or text on weekends so that he could learn to be independent.

It was a good arrangement. Nam wasn't much of a talker, especially with adults—even if they were his own parents.

"I'm… still the same, Mom."

He didn't dare tell her the truth about everything that had happened over the past week.

As the son of a military officer, Nam was not allowed to show weakness or fear in front of his parents.

"The landlady told me there's a dengue fever outbreak in Nhan Hoa Town. Four or five people have already died. Remember to sleep under a mosquito net and buy some insect repellent."

"Set your alarm and wake up early so you don't miss breakfast at school."

"You should start cooking your own meals. Stop eating out at street stalls—it's not sanitary."

"Be careful with your spending. Budget wisely."

"Be selective about your friends. Not everyone out there is kind-hearted."

"Write down everything I just told you, or save it in your phone so you don't forget."

"Oh, and the semester's first academic assessment is coming up. Study hard and do well!"

His mother's nonstop reminders made Nam's head spin. He robotically responded with a series of 'yes, Mom' and 'okay, Mom', but honestly, he barely registered half of what she said.

"Have you gotten used to living on your own yet?"

That question stirred something deep inside Nam. The longing to go home hit him hard. There was no place like home.

At home, Nam's room was bigger, and it had air conditioning.He had a younger brother in 9th grade, so it wasn't as lonely—even though both of them were quiet by nature. And the best part? He could always enjoy hot, delicious, homemade meals that were fresh, clean, and made with love.

"I'm used to it now. I'm doing fine."

Nam lied—and his mother didn't notice. Or maybe she did notice, but chose to ignore it.

"Alright, then. If there's anything important, text me later. Goodbye, honey."

With that, she ended the call. Nam was left staring at his phone, drowning in regret. Regret for choosing to attend Nhan Hoa High School.

Compared to his old school, Nhan Hoa had far superior facilities. The school was located in the heart of the wealthy coastal town, which thrived on tourism.

With a vast campus of 5 hectares but only around 400 students, the school had spacious learning environments. Each grade level had only four classes: A, B, C, and D. Within a 100-kilometer radius, Nhan Hoa was the only high school that had its own sports stadium, multipurpose arena, performance stage, indoor swimming pool, a massive library, and dozens of extracurricular clubs with fully equipped computer labs.

Beyond its international-standard facilities, the school was also renowned for academic excellence. Every single student who graduated passed the national university entrance exam. Every year, the school produced dozens of top students who won national and international competitions.

Without a full-ride scholarship, Nam would have never been able to afford tuition at such a prestigious private school. Just one month of tuition here was equivalent to his mother's entire monthly salary as a senior teacher—and that didn't even include additional fees.

His parents always told him how lucky he was, but luck alone wasn't enough. They expected him to push himself harder. Maintaining his previous academic achievements wasn't enough—he had to win national-level math competitions to secure a guaranteed path to university.

But after everything that had happened during his first week, Nam wasn't sure anymore. Was attending Nhan Hoa High School really a stroke of luck?

Or was it a terrible mistake?