Soft sunlight filtered through the classroom windows of Green Heaven Child Academy. Children's laughter mixed with the scratching of pencils and the chatter of young voices. The scene felt warm, innocent—yet a quiet voice began to narrate, calm but heavy with reflection.

  From a very young age, I was taught one thing—

  to look down on everyone around me.

  The young Logan, only six years old, sat at a desk near the window. His uniform was spotless, his posture perfect. The teacher smiled at him often, while the other kids whispered about his father's wealth and power. Logan's small eyes held a trace of arrogance already—something carefully planted.

  I remember it...

  I still remember it clearly now.

  My first ever friend.

  The classroom faded slightly, colors softening as Logan's eyes turned toward a cheerful boy sitting beside him—a boy with bright eyes and an easy smile.

  And that was Lian Tashreen.

  The faint sound of a bell rang in the background — Ding-ding! — as the memory deepened, and the story of who Logan once was began to unfold.

  ***

  Yeah... that was my first friend. The only one who ever looked at me without comparing.

  The soft echo of children's laughter faded into the quiet rustle of wind brushing over an open field. The afternoon sun hung lazily over Green Heaven Child Academy, painting the grass in shades of gold.

  The young Logan lay flat on the grassy field, arms spread wide, eyes half-closed against the sunlight. Around him, the playground had emptied; only the distant voices of other kids could be heard faintly.

  I was alone.

  A shadow suddenly fell across his face. Logan blinked and squinted upward. Standing there, with a grin brighter than the sun itself, was a boy with messy hair and curious eyes.

  "Hey, why are you lying here alone?"

  The voice was light, innocent—without a hint of judgment. Logan blinked again, caught off guard.

  That was the first time Lian talked to me.

  The breeze picked up, brushing through the grass as the scene held—two children under the warm sky, one smiling, the other silent, unaware that this small moment will mark the beginning of everything that would come after.

  Logan ignored Lian and closed his eyes again.

  "Hey, are you ignoring me?"

  The voice was clear, curious, and lighthearted.

  Logan opened one eye lazily and said, "I don't talk with the lowly family's boys."

  There was a short silence. Then, the boy—Lian—spoke again, his tone calm but firm.

  "Hey, that's rude. You shouldn't say that to someone. We're all human, aren't we? So everyone's the same here."

  For a moment, the sound of the wind faded from Logan's ears. He blinked at Lian, words stuck in his throat.

  Yeah… that's how his mind setup was.

  I was surprised… I was really surprised.

  For the first time in my life… someone told me that all humans were equal.

  The faint sound of rustling leaves echoed again—swish, swish—as Logan stared at the boy who had just said something no one in his world ever dared to say.

  What a weird boy.

  And from that day on, Lian always followed me.

  ***

  The next afternoon, I lay on the same grassy field again, eyes closed, feeling the soft breeze brush against my face. The sound of footsteps approached, light and familiar.

  Tap, tap.

  I sighed. "Hey, why are you here?"

  "Huh? What are you saying? I'm here because I want to, though?" Lian replied, sitting cross-legged beside me as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  I frowned, annoyed. "Just leave. This spot is mine."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Lian tilted his head. "Is your father the owner of this land?"

  "Huh?"

  That caught me off guard. I stood up abruptly, brushed the grass off my uniform, and started walking away. But when I glanced back—there he was again, following right behind me.

  No matter where I went...

  After a while, irritation bubbled over. I turned sharply toward him. "Hey, why are you following me now?"

  "I didn't follow you," he said innocently. "I'm just walking on the road, though."

  My face twitched. "You… You…"

  No matter what I did… he always followed me.

  And somehow… that persistence—though irritating—never really felt bad.

  ***

  Time passed. And we became friends.

  At a small computer café—dim lights, humming machines, and the clicking of keyboards filling the air.

  Click-clack. Tap-tap-tap.

  That was the first time I had ever stepped into a computer café.

  The faint smell of instant noodles and cheap air freshener hung around, and the glow from the monitors painted our faces in blue light.

  Lian sat beside me, focused, tongue sticking out slightly as he moved the mouse. "Haha! Got you!"

  "Hey, no fair! You camped there!" I shouted back, leaning forward in frustration.

  Lian laughed, "All's fair in war and games, my friend!"

  We kept playing—laughing, shouting, cursing at each other every time one of us lost.

  "Damn it!"

  "Take that!"

  "Haha! Not this time!"

  Yeah…

  It was fun.

  It was really fun.

  For the first time, I felt what friendship truly meant.

  ***

  Everything was going well.

  Click—flash.

  We ran down the narrow streets of Cumilla, laughter echoing through the air.

  We shared snacks, splashed each other with water from a roadside tap, played football until the sun sank behind the buildings.

  Together, we did many things.

  Rustle.

  Thud.

  Laughter.

  Every moment felt endless—like those days would never fade.

  Yeah… everything was going too well.

  But who knew…

  Those happy moments would disappear overnight.

  In the blink of an eye—

  everything shattered.

  ***

  The world warped into a cold, dark room. A single, harsh lightbulb hung overhead, casting long shadows. A cry of pain hung in the stale air.

  Logan stood frozen, his eyes wide with paralyzing shock. Before him, Lian Tashreen was slumped against the wall, already bruised and bleeding. Lian's head was wrenched back by a small, elegant hand, grasping his hair tightly. It was Meherin Mizraan, Logan's mother.

  She wore a look of detached disgust as she addressed her son, her voice carrying a cold, polished venom. "My boy, you became too weak. How could you stay with a lowly life like him? You should always crush the weak."

  Logan couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He wouldn't cry out, but the tears, hot and slow, silently cut tracks through the dirt on his cheeks as he watched.

  Meherin's eyes narrowed, noticing the moisture. "Are you crying, Logan? No, that won't do." She moved her contemptuous gaze to Lian. "This is all your fault, you lowly life. How dare you try to make my child like you."

  Lian gasped, his body tensing in anticipation of the next blow. Meherin bent down, plucking a hot iron from a nearby burner—the dark metal glowing faintly. She pressed it down onto Lian's arm. A horrific, choked scream tore through the silence. The smell of burning flesh instantly filled the dark room.

  "How dare a non-awakened like you stay around my child?" Her voice was cold. "I'LL ERASE YOUR WHOLE FAMILY FROM THIS WORLD."

  I...

  I was too much of a coward…

  The torture to Lian was too cruel.

  I was too coward that I couldn't even do anything.

  I watched everything happen and did nothing. The memory tasted like metal.

  By morning the world had shifted. Overnight, my family's cruelty was answered with something worse: Logan's family wiped out Lian's entire family, including him. The town whispered it afterward—an ugly rumor that spread like oil on water—but I never forgot the sound of Lian's scream or the way my mother's face had looked when she leaned in close.

  Those happy days vanished in a single night. What had been laughter was replaced with ashes, and something inside me folded and hardened in the dark.

  ***

  And from that day on, I started bullying the weak.

  I didn't want to do it…I really didn't like it…

  But if I didn't, the same fate would come again.

  At first it was small things: snatching a scrap of someone's lunch, pushing a smaller kid off the path so the elders would notice who belonged to whom. The sounds were cheap and common — the slap of sandals on concrete, the muffled sob, the quick, guilty laughter that tried to sound triumphant: thud… scuffle… sniff…

  Then it escalated. I learned the language of fear and power: who to push, who to humiliate, when to show my teeth and when to smile. I learned how to make people look down, how to make an entire classroom flatten itself so my family's name could pass without blemish. I watched mothers pull their children close; I watched faces turn away. Each small victory felt like medicine for the hole inside me, but it never filled anything. It only carved new hollows.

  Those memories…

  I wanted to forget all of those memories…

  So I changed.

  Not because I was brave, or because I believed in anything noble. I changed because fear had taught me how to survive, and survival had become the only rule I knew. I traded the boy I once was for something more efficient — sharper, colder. I cultivated a look, an attitude, a posture that kept eyes off the things I couldn't bear to see. I learned the words that made people step back. I learned how to use the name my mother held like a shield.

  At night, when the streetlamps hummed and the world narrowed down to the rhythm of my own breath, I sometimes felt Lian's voice in the wind — the stupid, stubborn kindness that had once irritated me. It stabbed; then it went quiet.

  I told myself it was necessary. I told myself that this was the only language that mattered in our world. But the truth sat heavy in my chest, a constant, dull ache that no amount of triumph could erase.

  ***

  After that day, everything changed.

  The once quiet, kind boy named Logan Mizraan had vanished.

  In his place stood someone else — someone who laughed when others cried, who kicked the fallen instead of helping them up.

  I became what I hated…

  The young Logan in middle school, surrounded by classmates. His voice echoes coldly through the corridor as he pushed a boy to the ground.

  "Get out of my way, trash."

  The others laugh — fake laughter — the kind that hid fear.

  But inside, Logan's eyes trembled.

  Every time someone cried…

  Every time someone looked at him the way Lian once did…

  He remembered that burning iron.

  That scream.

  I thought if I acted strong… if I became the one who hurts others first…Then maybe no one could hurt me again.

  He clenched his fists. His knuckles were trembling.

  And as years passed, that trembling turned into habit.

  Cruelty became armor.

  Arrogance became a mask.

  And the real me — the coward who couldn't save his only friend — disappeared behind it all.

  Hey, reader.

  Yes, you—the one scrolling way too fast like your finger is late for an exam.

  you are sitting there with snacks, reading for free.

  Which is fine.

  Totally fine.

  I’m not crying.

  (…maybe a little.)

  15 chapters.

  But the story is already at 23 chapters over on Webnovel.

  PLUS extra 5 privileged chapters because the Webnovel gods force-fed me deadlines.

  Patreon: Read up to Chapter 20

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  ?? Patreon:

  ?? Webnovel:

  If you support me, I’ll keep releasing chapters like a machine.

  If you don’t… well… I’ll still write, but I’ll look dramatically sad while doing it.

  now go power-up your reading speed and jump ahead like a main character discovering a hidden cheat skill.