Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]

"I already know what this letter is about. Why bother giving it to me again? The only thing that should be discussed right now is whether or not I'm going to accept it, isn't that right?" Al said flatly.

The principal responded with nothing more than a sardonic smile. "There's no need for more words. Just read it," he said in a tone so monotonous it almost sounded mechanical.

Even though Al already understood the purpose of that letter, a faint sense of curiosity still made his fingers itch to open it.

"I hope this isn't another false letter. Don't tell me you accidentally gave me a land certificate this time," he mocked casually.

The principal ignored him completely, choosing silence over a reply, though the faint irritation on his face was still visible to anyone observant enough.

Al unfolded the paper and began reading.

His eyes widened ever so slightly as he took in the content written on it. It stated that he was to be transferred to an academy equivalent to high school—

"Makazhar Bahari Marine Academy? This school is..." Al muttered, but his words were immediately cut off by the principal.

"Indeed. It's quite a decent place, a fitting compensation for someone like you. The Academy—one that is highly sought after by the middle and upper class, and even the lower class, though they often have to stretch their limits to get in. You should consider yourself lucky that I personally selected it for you."

Al's mind churned quietly amidst the principal's persuasion.

Highly sought after by the middle and upper class? Sure, that sounded impressive. But who didn't know the academy's true reputation? It was a den of vicious, violent youths—an academy that treated its students as if they were less than human. he thought to himself.

I actually don't really care about that place, but that academy has nothing to do with my mission. And seriously... I never even considered transferring schools. Not now, not ever.

He was about to reply, but the principal continued his attempt to convince him.

"You may have heard some rumors about that academy—about how every year, students mysteriously die or go missing. But rest assured, those are just rumors. A school that's so highly regarded wouldn't attract such popularity if those stories were true. You've got nothing to worry about."

Al simply shook his head.

"Sir, it doesn't matter where you want me to transfer. If I have no intention of going, then all this talk is just a waste of time." His tone remained calm, almost lazy.

The principal didn't flinch at his response.

"That was merely the introduction. There's far more to this offer than you realize."

"Hm?" Al murmured, feigning confusion.

"You probably think graduating from here will give you a prestigious name. HIHS graduates are admired by many. But for an orphan like you, that title will only become a burden." The principal's voice took on a heavy, condescending rhythm.

"What do you mean by that, sir?" Al asked, his brows knitting slightly.

The principal gave a faint nod, his lips curving into something between a smirk and pity.

"You don't understand how merciless the world of elites truly is. That's precisely why it's called elite. Just getting into that circle doesn't mean you'll survive within it—especially not when you have nothing to hold on to, and no one to rely on."

His gaze sharpened, his words striking like needles.

"You're just an orphan. Your academic performance is mediocre at best, you've achieved nothing noteworthy, and your reputation is that of a slacker and troublemaker. I've even heard that many of the elite students despise you. Hmph... You should be grateful you got to experience this environment for three whole years."

He stepped forward and patted Al's shoulder lightly.

"So understand this—let go of that ego of yours and face reality. Before you end up destroying yourself in the future. You don't belong to elite world, Al. Go to that academy. It focuses more on physical strength. As long as you stop slacking off, you might actually accomplish something there."

The three men standing behind the principal nodded in agreement.

"That's right. You should learn to accept your reality, kid," Lefon said, his voice thick with arrogance.

Kugo smirked faintly.

"A shame I don't like you. If I did, I might've taken you as my disciple. Becoming a skilled fighter would do you far more good than staying in school and ending up as nothing."

Darius, meanwhile, said nothing—he only stared at the others, though the cunning smile stretching across his face matched theirs perfectly. It was the kind of expression that hinted at something far more sinister being plotted behind the scenes.

"That's right, Al. Consider this as something good I'm offering you—as your principal, rather than simply expelling you outright," the principal added, his smile twisting into something sly and venomous.

Unfortunately, out of that entire long-winded discussion, Al merely yawned.

"Huaaam... Wow, sir. No wonder you managed to become a principal. I've got to admit, I'm kind of impressed by how passionately you can deliver a lecture like that," he said lazily, rubbing the corner of his eye as if he were fighting off sleep.

"Huh?" The principal muttered, his expression tightening slightly in irritation.

The three men behind him shifted their gaze toward Al.

Al simply shook his head. "I already told you, sir. You're just wasting your time. I never had any intention of leaving this school to begin with."

He then stepped forward and handed the letter back to the principal.

His movement was calm but deliberate—he grabbed the man's hand and pushed the letter back into it with a small, firm motion. It wasn't rough, but there was undeniable weight behind it.

The principal's composure faltered for a split second, his breath catching in his throat as if some invisible pressure had momentarily pinned him in place.

The three men exchanged wary glances, their eyes sharpening in silent vigilance.

But Al only took a few steps backward, his expression as unbothered as ever, before speaking again in that slow, detached tone. "Because from the very start, sir, you've been wrong."

"What do you mean, I'm wrong, Al?"

Al's gaze was indifferent, his smirk faint. "It's not that I'm lucky to study here," he said, his voice steady and low. "It's this school that's lucky I chose it."

Because in truth, if not for Alasia Group, this entire school would've been shut down long ago. Meaning, in the end, everything here existed because of Al.

Of course, none of them knew that. All they could do was stare for a moment before bursting into mocking laughter.

"Hahaha! I thought the brat was going to say something serious. Turns out it's just another stupid joke," Kugo sneered, his laughter heavy with disdain.

Lefon shook his head, his lips twisting in disbelief.

"Look at you—so arrogant. I get it, you're still young. Kids these days are full of delusions. Idham's the same way, always saying he's the 'main character' or something."

He sighed deeply before continuing with a condescending tone. "But you'd better drop that attitude if you want to live a safe life. Especially since you have no backing, no protection, and no one to save you once you fall."

The principal also shook his head, disappointment—or perhaps mockery—flickering across his eyes.

Al, however, simply shrugged, his body language saying believe whatever you want.

The principal took a step closer, trying one last time. "Al, think carefully. Just accept it. The sooner we settle this, the better it'll be for everyone."

But Al shook his head. "I'm not transferring, sir."

The principal tried again, repeating his persuasion in various tones—authoritative, coaxing, and even pleading—but Al's answer never changed. The negotiation went back and forth, a tedious cycle of offers and refusals.

The man even began offering material incentives: a monthly allowance, guaranteed accommodations, even promises of 'connections' for his future.

But ultimately—

"Sir, I said I'm not transferring. Stop trying to bargain with me. Aren't you afraid that Alasia Group will find out about this?" Al's tone sharpened slightly, the name Alasia Group slicing through the room like a blade.

The principal stiffened and instinctively took a step back, a flicker of panic surfacing in his eyes. He exhaled heavily, realizing Al's determination wasn't an act. The boy had no intention of budging—especially after invoking that name.

But still, there was no sign that the matter would end peacefully.

The principal turned his gaze toward the three men behind him. They exchanged brief glances and nodded to one another—a silent signal that they still had one final card to play.

The principal turned back to Al, his eyes narrowing with predatory calm.

"I figured as much. This was never going to be easy. You're not only stupid, you're stubborn. But tell me something—did you really think we didn't know that Alasia would refuse this offer?"

"If you already know Alasia won't accept it, then why keep pushing me to transfer?" Al asked, annoyance flickering in his tone.

The principal smiled, a slow, serpentine grin curling on his lips. The other three men mirrored it, though their faces were twisted with barely restrained emotion—anger, anticipation, perhaps even malice.

"Because," the principal said softly, "we have something. Something that—even if Alasia finds out—they'll understand that the best choice is to send you away."

"Huh? What do you mean, sir?" Al asked, genuinely confused this time.

The principal turned back to his desk, checking the documents as if to ensure he didn't make another mistake, then picked up a thick folder and handed it to Al.

This time, it wasn't a single sheet of paper—but a stack of documents filled with scribbled notes and photographs.

Al accepted them, a flicker of unease flashing across his face, though he quickly masked it. Thankfully, the four men failed to notice the brief shift in his expression.

"What's this?" he asked evenly.

The principal leaned back and began his explanation. "You might've realized that Rudi and Jogo didn't come to school today," he began.

"I didn't really pay attention. What about them?" Al asked while flipping through the papers and photos.

Most of the photos depicted a dimly lit forest at night—grainy, hard to make out. Still, something about them felt oddly familiar. Until his eyes landed on two blurry figures lying motionless on the ground, the photo taken from a distance.

What is this...? he thought, his mind narrowing in suspicion.

The principal continued,

"Rudi and Jogo's absence isn't without reason. They were both victims of a recent... incident. According to the information we received, they were abducted a few nights ago and brutally assaulted in the city forest."

Al said nothing, his gaze flicking between the four men in front of him.

The principal still carried his arrogant air; Lefon looked cold and calculating; while Darius and Kugo exuded open hostility—their killing intent thick enough to feel. Especially Kugo, whose magical energy seemed to pulse faintly around him.

Even though Al wasn't entirely certain, it wasn't hard to deduce the situation.

Daraka must've told them that I was the one who attacked those two. But in reality... they targeted me first, and I punished them. That's the truth. He thought.

So this is their card, huh? But what does this have to do with forcing me to transfer? What exactly are they planning?

The principal slid another set of papers toward Al—testimonies, by the looks of them.

As Al flipped through them, the principal began to narrate,

"And based on witness statements, you were the one who injured them. Your motive is quite clear—you disliked Rudi because of his popularity, and you hated Jogo for being close to the girl you supposedly like, Rina."

The accusation was so absurd that Al could only blink in disbelief. "Huh?" was all he managed to utter, completely dumbfounded by how blatantly fabricated the explanation was.

Even the witness reports—most of which seemed to come from Rudi's personal bodyguards—claimed they were also 'injured' by Al.

Al's shock was mirrored by the rising fury of the men across from him. Kugo had already risen to his feet, his aura flaring, while Darius' eyes glowed red with murderous intent.

Al turned slightly, his senses sharpening as he faced their killing intent head-on.

The atmosphere thickened—tension so heavy it was almost tangible.

A fight was about to break out.

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