The final cue from the ceremony leader signaled the end of the formal event.
The previously tense and rigid atmosphere quickly shifted into liveliness.
Students dispersed—some heading to the auditorium, others toward the small practice field, and many just looking for shaded spots to sit.
The typical school buzz had returned.
Hazandeen’s principal stepped forward and directed his attention to the guest delegation from Makazhar Elite School.
Wearing a practiced smile, he approached the Makazhar principal and greeted him warmly.
"Please, follow me to the main lounge. We’ve prepared some light refreshments there."
The Makazhar principal—a bespectacled man radiating high academic authority—gave a small nod.
Behind him, several teachers and students from Makazhar, including David, followed in calm, orderly steps.
The group was escorted from the field to Hazandeen’s VIP Lounge—a sleek and elegant room on the western wing of the school, usually reserved for high-level visitors or formal occasions.
Meanwhile, Hazandeen students who were part of the School Festival were instructed to remain on the field.
Event staff scrambled around, pinning up name lists on temporary bulletin boards.
Advising teachers huddled in discussions, double-checking forms and participant data.
The atmosphere was like a marketplace—noisy, hot, but filled with spirited energy.
Al didn’t move right away.
He was still sitting beneath the large banyan tree, staring at the blue sky now veiled by thin clouds.
Rina, who had been sitting nearby, stood up and stretched her arms.
"Al... aren’t you going to the auditorium?"
Al shrugged. "Auditorium?"
Rina rolled her eyes and tossed a small towel at his head.
"At least don’t sit there like a depressed statue. We’re supposed to be Hazandeen’s champions—defending our school’s pride against Makazhar Elite School!"
Al touched the towel. Soft. Soap-scented. Still warm—Rina must’ve brought it from the locker room.
"Thanks, but I’d rather not get involved..."
Rina snapped her head toward him. "Huh? You have to! Maybe you’ll win something—like the poetry contest or something, hehe."
Al got up, lazily shaking out his hair.
"Let me know if there’s a sleeping competition."
Inside the VIP Lounge, the two principals sat on leather chairs with a long table between them.
David sat at the far end, silent, simply observing.
Hazandeen’s principal initiated the conversation with a friendly tone.
"We’re truly honored to host Makazhar Elite School here at Hazandeen."
The Makazhar principal smiled.
"We’re pleased as well. Though our schools often compete... this collaboration is a golden opportunity for both student bodies."
"Of course," the Hazandeen principal nodded, "and I believe... our students will give each other an unforgettable experience."
David smiled faintly, hiding disbelief and a darker intent beneath that calm exterior.
Unforgettable experience, huh?
I’ll make sure of it, he thought.
Back outside, the organizers began calling out names for team assembly.
A teacher stood on a bench and shouted:
"Students who registered or were nominated for the School Festival team, please gather! The preliminary roster is being posted now!"
Al wandered over to the bulletin board at a leisurely pace.
Still half-asleep, he had only one wish:
Please don’t let my name be there... or this will be a disaster.
He yawned wide, glancing at the list from afar.
He already knew—his name wouldn’t be there.
He wasn’t part of any club, wasn’t popular, had no reputation, and no stage-worthy talent to speak of.
Better to just find an empty classroom. Quiet, cool, perfect for a nap.
He turned and started walking lazily toward the west building.
But before he reached the stairs—
Fast footsteps approached from behind.
Rina rushed up, panting with a nervous look on her face.
"Al! Hey! You... you have to see this!"
Al frowned. "Now what..."
"Your name is on the list," she said, pointing toward the board.
Al froze. Blinked a few times.
Rina exhaled sharply. "And the crazier part... you’re on the martial arts team. With me and... Jogo."
Al’s world crumbled in an instant.
"Wait... no... this has to be a mistake... You must be kidding, right?"
His face drained of all hope.
His head dropped, like a farmer realizing his crops had failed.
Just earlier, he had imagined a peaceful afternoon nap with nothing but wind to hug.
"I’m just a kind-hearted rich kid, and now they want me to start punching people... wow," Al muttered in disbelief.
Rina bit her lip, confused as well.
"Wait... you can’t fight at all?"
Al shrugged. "I’d rather run away than fight someone."
Rina’s panic deepened. "Then how did your name even get on the list...? Wait... don’t tell me... Jogo?"
They hurried off to find Jogo, who was by the practice field, surrounded by students warming up.
Jogo saw them approaching and gave a crooked smile—like he’d been waiting for this.
"Why did you put Al on the martial arts team?! He’s not even in the club! He doesn’t even—"
"Because he’s a senior," Jogo cut in casually.
"And since he’s close with you, I figured it’d be efficient to place him on your team. Communication matters, y’know."
Al just stared at Jogo with a lifeless, drained expression.
"But Al can’t fight!" Rina protested. "He’s never even trained!"
Jogo chuckled lightly.
"Well, he can learn. Everyone starts from zero, right?"
Then he whispered—quiet but sharp,
"Besides... I want to see what this ’special boy’ looks like in the ring."
Rina was about to argue again, but—
"The teacher already approved the roster," Jogo said, pointing at the board. "You can protest, but it won’t change anything.
And besides... all seniors are required to participate. It’s school policy.
This is our last year here—what’s wrong with giving a little back to the school?"
Rina fell silent, unable to argue further. Her face still anxious.
Al stood beside her like a sandbag—quiet, but boiling inside.
"...Fine," Al finally said.
"I’ll join. But don’t blame me if I faint in the first ten seconds."
"Ten seconds is too generous for you."
In his mind, Jogo had already imagined the moment.
Al—physically and mentally crushed by the Makazhar team.
He would savor every second.