Darren sat behind the wheel, one hand draped over the door, the other spinning his keys.

"Babe," Lucy greeted, smiling sweetly as she stepped out.

"Hey," Darren replied, his grin polite but strained.

"You mind if my brother rides with us?" she asked.

Darren's smile flickered. After Dax had blackmailed him once and stolen his favorite suit, the guy had every reason to despise him, but he played nice for Lucy's sake.

"Sure," he said, jaw tight.

Upstairs, Dax grinned as he zipped up his backpack. He'd overheard the conversation perfectly. "That's my ticket," he murmured with smug satisfaction.

The ride was, in all fairness, a glorious one for Dax, though he couldn't exactly say the same for the others in the car.

He leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur by, the buildings glinting under the morning sun like smug little towers showing off their wealth.

Actually, he thought with a lazy smirk, I wouldn't blame Darren if he decided to break up with my sister because of me, or maybe hang himself, whichever makes him feel more accomplished.

And honestly? Dax wouldn't care.

It wasn't like he hated Darren. No, the truth was he just didn't think the guy deserved his sister. Darren was a player, a walking red flag wrapped in cologne and self-confidence. He'd slept with Mary, Dax's classmate, and even had the nerve to spend the night at her house. Mary. Mary, of all people.

So no, Darren didn't deserve his sister. Not one bit.

But Dax wasn't going to tell her that. Not yet. Oh no, he had plans. He'd rather haunt Darren first, torment him a little, enough to make him sweat, enough to make him remember that calling someone "the weirdo of the school" had consequences. Delicious consequences.

He'd even considered killing him once, not literally (well, not entirely literally), but if it came down to it, he wouldn't exactly weep over the man's funeral. Then again, that was a dark thought. And he is not the devil.

"Hang on," Dax muttered under his breath with a half-smile, "I take that back." His grin widened mischievously. "Hehe… I am the devil."

By the time the car pulled into the school's parking lot, Dax was already half-convinced he'd left reality again.

Stanford High stood tall and proud, a slightly too-famous school for his taste. It was the kind of place that looked like it charged you for breathing.

Outside, cars lined up like metallic peacocks showing off their colors: sleek rides belonging to the rich students, the modest ones for teachers, and the family sedans that screamed, "I work hard so my child can suffer academically."

Parents honked, students waved, and the air buzzed with the manic energy of a new term.

It was resumption day.

The weather had the kind of optimism only found in early mornings before responsibility kicked in. Sunlight spilled across the asphalt, gleaming on the glass windows, and a warm breeze carried the smell of perfume, new books, and cafeteria pancakes.

Clusters of students filled the schoolyard, hugging, yelling, gossiping, laughing like they'd just won the lottery of friendship. Those who'd traveled during the summer boasted about their vacations, throwing in exaggerated details about beaches, mountains, and a few imaginary celebrities they'd "totally met."

Others compared tans, hairstyles, and heartbreaks.

Some squealed as they reunited with best friends, hugging tight enough to break spines. A few unfortunate souls got smacked in the face with overzealous backpacks. The new students stood awkwardly at the gate, pretending they weren't lost.

Everywhere Dax looked, there was chaos, and he loved it.

It all felt so real.

The chatter, the laughter, the ridiculous arguments about who dated who over the summer, it was all painfully, beautifully normal.

The usual morning soundtrack of Stanford High came alive: sneakers squeaking, lockers slamming, someone yelling that they forgot their timetable again, and the shrill laughter of girls gossiping about someone's terrible new haircut.

And oh, the spectacle of fashion! There were students dressed like runway models, others like they'd just rolled out of bed, and a few poor souls who looked like walking traffic lights. Dax chuckled under his breath as one boy tripped over his shoelaces while trying to flirt.

Then there were the couples, new and old, who wasted no time in turning the parking lot into a public display of affection. The lovebirds kissed dramatically, as if starring in some overly emotional romance movie no one wanted to watch.

Meanwhile, groups of boys stood around pretending not to care, yet watching anyway.

"Ah yes," Dax muttered, "the natural wildlife of Stanford High."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "But what a weak back-to-school vibe," he added under his breath, stepping out of the car and leaving his sister and Darren behind. Whatever drama they were about to cook up in there wasn't his business anymore.

He straightened his black jacket and adjusted his backpack strap. That's when his brow furrowed slightly.

Wait… the suit.

He wasn't wearing it though. But how? He didn't even remember collecting it. He'd been trapped in the Parallax Realm, inside the Trinity Stronghold, for days, fighting, bleeding, surviving... well also eating, dreaming, and fucking. So how did he end up here, back at school, dressed perfectly like it was just another Monday?

His mind spun as he walked through the buzzing crowd. The laughter, the chatter, the echo of footsteps, it all felt distant. Time… had moved on? He'd been gone for weeks in another realm, and yet here, everything continued as though nothing had happened.

Was he living two lives now?

If so, shouldn't he at least remember both?

He frowned deeply. His room had been a mess before all this, a proper disaster zone. But when he woke up this morning, it was spotless. His bed made, his desk clean, even his laundry folded.

"What the hell is going on…" he murmured.

A sudden tap on his shoulder snapped him out of thought.

He jerked slightly, realizing he'd been standing in the middle of the hallway like a statue, blocking the passage to the locker room. He turned, and instantly regretted it.

"Malfoy."

The name left his lips like venom.

Malfoy towered over him, both in height and ego. His blonde hair was cropped short and perfectly slicked back, gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

That stupid, ever-present bully grin sat proudly on his face, the kind that made you want to punch something.

Dax's eyes darted around. Students had started gathering, whispering, pointing, laughing. Of course they were.

"He really is weird," someone snorted through laughter.

Dax ignored them. He kept his gaze locked on the oversized lump of arrogance standing before him.

The last time he'd seen that face, he'd killed him, or at least, he thought he had. It was during that illusionary test in the Harness.

Lucky for Malfoy, that version of him hadn't been real.

But if this Malfoy decided to do anything stupid today, Dax wasn't sure if he could promise the same mercy.

"Well, well, well," Malfoy sneered, his voice ridiculously light for his bulk.

"Who do we have here? Oh wait... Daxxy."

The nickname rolled off his tongue like poison dipped in honey. He stepped closer, and Dax instinctively stepped back, gripping the strap of his school bag tightly.

Students had started circling now, eager for the day's first entertainment.

"Oh, I can't bear to witness another humiliation this early in the morning," someone whispered dramatically.

"Shut up," another replied, sniggering loudly, clearly thrilled by the spectacle.

God, Dax thought miserably, *I haven't even been here five minutes and the circus has already started.*

"Come on, Dax," Malfoy said, his grin widening.

"What did you get me after the long summer, huh?"

Laughter erupted all around. Dax's jaw tightened, his steps still retreating.

"Oh, come on," Malfoy mocked.

"You got nothing for me? That's disappointing."

The laughter grew louder, echoing down the hallway. Dax could feel his blood starting to boil, not because of Malfoy's words, but because of the laughter. The mockery.

"Well then," Malfoy said, cracking his knuckles theatrically, "I guess I'll just have to check your backpack myself."

Before Dax could react, he bumped into something, or rather, *two someones*. Two of Malfoy's goons had slipped behind him, grinning like hyenas.

They grabbed him by both arms.

"Let me go!" Dax struggled, twisting violently, but their grip only tightened. His bag was yanked from his shoulder and tossed to Malfoy like a trophy.

"Malfoy, don't open that!" Dax snapped, his voice more warning than plea.

Malfoy chuckled, shaking his head mockingly.

"What are you gonna do, huh? Call the physics teacher?"

The crowd burst out laughing again, and this time, Dax felt something snap inside him.

"Malfoy," he said lowly, his tone dark and deliberate, "don't… open… that… bag."

But Malfoy only smirked, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Oh, I definitely want to see what your sexy mama packed in this bag for you, Daxxy."

The words rolled out of his mouth in slow motion, and that was it. The instant Dax heard his mom mentioned, something primal rose within him, something fierce, something hot.

His grip tightened. His eyes burned.

"Yaaagh!"

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.