Chapter 3: Beneath the Weight

Beep. Beep.

The alarm on the bed blared.

But Rei wasn't there.

He was already in the bathroom, letting the cold water wash off the mess from last night. Blood, sweat, gunpowder—it all circled the drain, gone like it never happened.

After the shower, he walked into his room, body still dripping, and strapped on a fresh weight vest. Then—down on the floor.

Push-ups. Sit-ups. Core. Burpees.

His usual morning grind. No excuses. No breaks. Every movement sharp and clean.

By the time the sky began to shift from black to grey, Rei was already outside, jogging at a steady rhythm. The park was empty. Just the wind, the pavement, and the sound of his breath.

4:56 a.m. His kind of silence.

Then—buzz.

His phone rang.

He slowed, found a bench, and sat down. A towel hung around his neck. He wiped the sweat off his face and checked the screen.

Video call. Mom.

He picked up.

"Hey, Rei darling! How are you this morning?"

"Mom, I'm fine. Just doing my routine."

"Ohh, I can see that! You're getting more masculine than ever. Why not just leave that school and come stay with me and your dad in the Bahamas?"

In the background, his dad—half-asleep on a beach chair—jerked upright like he'd almost fallen. "What?"

Rei's mom glanced at him. His dad muttered, "Okay, fine... as long as I still get my one million a month, deal."

She rolled her eyes. "How about that?"

Rei smirked. "No, Mom. I'm kinda enjoying school life. It's... a change of pace. Being around normal kids my age instead of just other rich brats."

His mom pouted. "I even have a girl I could introduce you to. Daughter of the richest man here. Gorgeous. You'd like her."

"Mom... no. I still have school to go to."

She sighed. "Alright, alright. But whenever you're ready, just call. I'll send the jet, first thing."

He nodded. "Sure. Bye, Mom."

His mom blew a kiss. "Bye, sweetheart."

His dad chimed in. "Don't forget—you don't need to work at all. We'll keep sending you money."

"Got it, Dad."

The call ended.

Rei exhaled and leaned back.

"Mom and Dad are a piece of work..." he muttered.

If only they knew.

He had never touched a single dime they sent him. Not once. Not out of pride—but principle.

"I only use money I earn. That's my rule."

He leaned forward, wiping sweat from his brow, his tone going colder.

"We were created in the image of God. That means I'm a god on Earth. And no being—man, king, or even world leaders—can stop me from becoming the one behind the curtain. The man world leaders need permission from just to breathe."

He stood up.

Time for school.

On his way back, a girl jogging past glanced his way and, half by accident, muttered under her breath—

"Wow... he's handsome. I wish I could get his number..."

Rei didn't react.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't even blink.

He already knew what he looked like.

But knowing never felt like much.

A 10 in appearance. A 10 in everything else—intellect, skill, presence.

But looks were just a tool.

Charisma, a necessity.

Not goals—just steps.

Rei wasn't chasing noise. He was carving permanence.

He reached his apartment again and stepped straight into the shower.

Cold water ran over his skin—washing away the sweat from training, the leftover adrenaline. The second cleanse of the morning, but necessary.

After drying off, he opened his closet.

Inside: identical school uniforms, pressed and aligned... and an entire rack of customized weight jackets—black, thin, compact. Each one tailored to fit under his clothes without detection.

Rei took one out and slipped it on, then layered the uniform over it.

Weight jackets were an obsession. Ever since the day he first trained in martial arts with weighted gear, and then took it off—he remembered how light his body felt. How fast. Untouchable.

That feeling became addictive.

Now, he trained with them daily. Every jacket in the closet was a different weight class. A constant rotation. A quiet evolution.

Once dressed, he stood before the mirror—and changed.

Posture lowered. Chin tucked. Shoulders slightly slouched. The air of dominance—the one that leaked from his presence by default—snuffed out like a dying flame.

Next, the hair.

He combed it messily to the side. Just enough to look ordinary. Forgettable. The kind of kid you'd glance past in a hallway without a second thought.

The final form: the background character.

By the time he made it to class, he was already at his desk—head down, silent, unnoticed. Exactly the way he wanted it.

Class hadn't started yet, so he replayed the previous night in his mind.

The ambush. The smoke. The bodies.

Tch... The surprise failed. I underestimated them. Talk about a rookie mistake.

The east fell easy because they didn't know me or expected someone like me as their enemy. But now, the west would be on high alert. And worse—I walked out of that whole mess without learning the location of their next drop.

That meant one thing.

Tonight, I go get info from the streets.

The classroom door slid open.

Their homeroom teacher walked in, coffee in one hand and test papers in the other.

"Alright, enough dilly-dallying. Time for your test results."

He began dropping papers row by row. When Rei got his, he scanned the numbers.

Perfect.

Not too high. Not too low. Just average enough to avoid praise or suspicion.

He'd intentionally scored just above the passing mark. That took more effort than acing it.

Class began. The teacher started his lecture, but Rei's mind was still running blueprints—scanning routes, blocks, shadows. Weighing which gangs controlled which corners.

Then—

Thunk.

A piece of chalk smacked against his forehead.

His hand had already caught it—reflex, clean, mechanical. A mistake.

Too sharp.

The teacher raised an eyebrow.

"Since you're clearly too advanced to listen, Mr. Background—bring me the chalk and solve this."

Rei stood, sighing under his breath.

Seriously? This is what I get pulled out of recon mode for?

He walked to the board slowly.

Youngest world record holder in mathematics.

He still remembered the moment.

Full mask. Hidden identity. Anonymous genius.

And now here he was, solving pre-college level equations for people who'd probably ask him to borrow pens.

He stared at the equation for a second, then grinned internally.

Let's play.

Instead of solving it the standard way, he used one of his own derived methods—something elegant, clean. Too elegant. Something that wouldn't register to anyone in the room.

Then, for extra measure, he wrote a near-correct answer. Just off enough to not raise alarms.

The teacher squinted.

"Huh. Not quite... Alright, sit down. Try listening next time."

Rei nodded, expression blank, and walked back to his desk

Behind the dull stare, his thoughts kept spinning.