Demund woke up as the alarm screamed at him. It was time for school.

〄 〄 〄

The teacher looked over the students in the room and pointed towards the question on the board.

“I know reading isn’t assigned until next week, but is there anyone who knows the answer to this question?”

She was thinking of starting with a difficult question to get the students interested in the future. She loved history; her enthusiasm, especially for modern history, was the reason why she became a teacher. She smiled inside as she became excited. If she could share just a portion of her curiosity and enthusiasm to her class, there would be nothing better.

As expected, no one raised their hands. It was natural. The answer was something that even the adults were confused about sometimes. She was about to start speaking again when she saw a hand shoot up in the middle of the classroom.

“Do you know the answer?”

“…is it Dane Luckter?”

The teacher was taken aback for a moment. She quickly came to her senses.

“You are correct. Can you name any books he has written?”

Demund rolled his head for a second. What had it been? Hero…something…aha.

“I only know Hero Psychology and Philosophy.”

“Hero Philosophy and Psychology,” corrected Ms. Richern. “But yes, the pioneer who established the guidelines for how the gifted should function in society was Dane Luckter.”

Demund felt himself relax. He had made a wild guess based on the books he had read during the break, and he happened to stumble on the right answer. He laughed internally. This was what school was about! Answering questions and catching teachers’ eyes. He’d give his very best this year.

〄 〄 〄

“Pass! Pass the ball!”

Demund quickly kicked the ball towards his teammate. His teammate quickly stopped the ball, dodged some other students, then shot the ball inside the goal.

“Yes!”

Sounds of cheering came from Demund’s team as the ball hit against the other team’s net. Demund had never done sports in middle school except for some occasional work-outs with Jothan, so this game made him feel new. Running had definitely helped a lot.

The teammate who scored the ball came towards Demund with his hand raised. Demund quickly raised his own hand and the two went through a quick high-five.

“Good job man! You’re pretty fast, aren’t you?”

“Thanks. Nice shot, by the way,” replied Demund.

Finally. This was school. This was living. He felt refreshed and full of energy. He wiped off the sweat off his brow and prepared himself for another round of soccer.

〄 〄 〄

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Demund felt a sense of accomplishment as two male students (the ones from PE) beckoned him to their table during lunch. He happily took his tray over and sat down with them. Was making friends really this easy?

“Hey, great job during PE today. It was fun,” initiated the boy with short, spiky brown hair.

Demund gave them his best smile and complimented them back. These two had been the most athletic students during PE; the guy with brown hair had been on his team while the guy with the wavy, light blonde hair had been on the other team and had scored all the goals for them. Demund’s team had won in the end, but the match had been very close and very fun.

“I swear, if the newcomer wasn’t on your team, you’d have lost the bet,” said the boy with the blonde hair. He turned to Demund. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Demund,” he replied, “and yours?”

“I’m Rhyne. The spikey hair is Riley.”

“Why are you introducing me? Anyway, you lost the bet so don’t forget the promise.”

“Fine, fine. Drinks are on me.”

Demund felt something nostalgic coming up from the back of his head while hearing their conversation.

“Want to come with us after school?”

Demund looked up from his food and looked at pairs of brown and blue eyes.

“Sounds great. You sure I can tag along, Rhyne?”

“Sure. But the drinks—”

“Come on Rhyne! Your family is rich, aren’t they?”

“My allowance—”

“Don’t worry Demund, he’ll buy.” Riley sent a wink at Demund.

“Hey, dude! By that logic, you should have to pay! You get the most allowance here!”

“Well, you’re the loser.”

“!!!!!”

Demund felt something blooming inside. Something warm and nice. He never imagined that something so precious could approach him so quickly. He thanked the events that led him to this moment. If he kept trying his best, maybe he would be able to continue this happy school life.

“So, which school did you guys come from?”

〄 〄 〄

Demund had hit jackpot. He had been hitting jackpot every day since break ended. An encounter with a pretty girl, events that led up to making new friends. The dreams that let him recover. Everything was working out very smoothly, almost like a miracle.

What was more fortunate was that his new acquaintances were planning to earn colored badges after the first year. You could go into the elite class if your grades were in the top three scores for your year or if you were one of the top two most athletic people in the grade. They were definitely aiming for the athletic spots.

Demund would aim for the highest grade in his class. He would finally be able to transfer by the end of the year, making his bland life even more exciting.

He arrived at the giant house and leaped off his bike. He waited after he rang the doorbell.

Enariss soon came out in her rich sportswear, her beautiful hair flowing behind her and her eyes shining like crystals in the fading sunlight.

“How long will you stay out there? Park your bike inside.”

Yep. She was still straightforward. Demund guessed that all rich girls were like Enariss. Confident, commanding, sweet, and pretty. Well, maybe not all. It was just that Enariss had become the stereotype of ‘rich girls who were also perfect’ in his mind. He dragged his bike into the house.

“Should we start now?” asked Enariss in a sweet way. Her smile was stunning.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

〄 〄 〄

Alright. Demund had lied. Not everything was perfect. This girl, this rich Enariss girl—where did she get her stamina from? They had run so fast that Demund hadn’t been able to utter a single word while they dashed across the streets. He had planned to start a conversation during the run. Nope. That wasn’t working.

He was currently melting away on his bike, returning home, trying to endure the pain. If things continued like this, he’d never get the chance to talk to Enariss until next year. It was probably a bad idea to ask, “Hey, we should not run tonight and talk more to each other.” No. That would never happen.

He was just a normal person you could find anywhere. Demund stopped in the road for a moment. It still hurt, but it was becoming bearable. His recovery time had shortened significantly since the first day he started to run. He could feel himself—no, he knew that he was improving. But it was still far too slow.

Demund focused his mind on the night sky and watched the stars twinkle. You know what? He only had to do this once every eight days. He had it easy compared to everyone else. He remembered the examiner’s words:

“The power won’t be beneficial to anyone. But you will be able to improve yourself with it which might be useful for work.”

Hell yeah. His dream was fun and useful. He felt his mind be refreshed every time he entered/exited the dream. He had it easy. He had to try harder.

Demund took a deep breath. He would do it.

He lifted his bicycle and started running towards his house.