"Today marks the end of your middle school journey. Congratulations to all. I hope these years have been memorable,"

A middle-aged teacher announced, his face adorned with a wide smile. He stood before a blackboard that declared,

'Middle School Graduation Day.'

The teacher was addressing his students, who were comfortably seated in their classroom.

The classroom was far from luxurious. It was a simple enclosed space, painted in pristine white, devoid of windows. A traditional blackboard stood at the front, accompanied by individual tables and chairs for each student, and a pair of fans oscillating above.

The room was filled with students dressed in grey shirts and black pants. The gender ratio was almost balanced, and every face was lit up with a wide smile, brimming with anticipation, hanging onto every word their teacher spoke.

Among the forty-one students, one particular student sat amidst them, his gaze fixated on the ceiling fan, lost in thought.

'Should I take the ROT test or join my father’s noodle shop?'

The student contemplated. His brown eyes and black hair complemented his handsome face and lean physique, but his loose school uniform gave him a bulkier appearance.

His thoughts were a stark contrast to his peers, who were solely focused on taking the ROT (Rift Of Trials) test and aspiring to become Rift Riders.

He was grounded in reality. He knew that only 1 in 1000 would receive a graded Ethereal. He was aware that only a couple of students from his entire school would have the chance to become Ranked Rift Riders, while the rest would be left to serve them.

He was certain that he wouldn’t receive a graded Ethereal, so he had already decided against attending high school. His decision to not pursue further studies was not due to his academic standing or financial constraints. He was simply weary of the monotonous school life.

"Next week, the school will conduct the ROT test. Don't forget to attend, everyone,"

The teacher announced, his voice filled with anticipation. He hoped to boost his reputation in the school by producing high-rank riders.

"You are dismissed," the teacher declared as the students began to disperse, but one student lingered behind. The teacher turned his attention towards him.

The teacher noticed the student still gazing at the ceiling. He had observed his indifference earlier but chose to overlook it. However, now he couldn’t. He was the only one left in the class, and his demeanor was too conspicuous to ignore.

"Archie, why are you still here? The class has been dismissed," the teacher inquired.

"Uncle, how much does a teacher earn? Do I need to attend high school for that?"

The student, Archie, finally shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the teacher and posed his question.

The teacher sighed, walked over to Archie, took a seat at one of the student’s tables, and responded,

"You are taking the ROT test. If not, I will inform your father about your decision to not attend high school."

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Archie rose from his chair, grabbed his bag, and started to exit the room. Before he left, the teacher cautioned him,

"I will personally escort you to the test entrance next week. If you fail to show up, I will inform my brother."

Archie didn’t respond; he simply continued walking down the hallway. As he approached the stairs, he opened his bag and pulled out a hoodie to cover his school shirt.

Archie retrieved a cellphone and earphones from his bag and took his wallet. He checked his bag one last time to ensure he hadn’t missed anything important. A quick peek revealed only books.

After a thorough inspection, Archie discarded the books in the hallway and left the premises with his empty bag.

As he descended the stairs to exit the school, his gaze remained fixated on the ground, his mind preoccupied with what lay ahead.

'I’m not a prodigy, just an average guy, waiting for life to unfold.'

'Even though I’m just fifteen years old, society has taught me that prodigies aren’t born to middle-class families. You need power and a powerful family backing to reach the pinnacle. Unfortunately, a small noodle shop owner’s son can’t dream about reaching the top. He can probably serve those who are at the top.'

'I wish my father and my uncle could understand that.'

"Archie, what's on your mind?" A girl's voice echoed, but Archie didn’t register her words.

"Archie, wait," the girl tugged at Archie’s hoodie, successfully capturing his attention.

Archie turned to see a red-haired girl with fair skin, around his age and matching his height of 5 feet 3 inches. Her face was so close to his that he could see her brown eyes and the broad smile that graced her face.

"Archie, my dad told me you're not taking the ROT test. Why?"

Her smile morphed into a smirk. She wasn’t interested in discussing their final day in middle school. She wanted to confront Archie about his decision.

Archie let out a sigh and responded, "Aimee, you can eat at my shop."

"Okay!" Aimee's face lit up with a grin, and she gave a thumbs up before trailing behind Archie.

Aimee bombarded Archie with questions about his shop,

"It’s been six months since I last ate at your shop. Have you added any new dishes?"

"Which is the best?"

Aimee’s incessant queries about noodles made Archie groan, but he felt a temporary relief as her focus shifted from him to the noodles.

After a short walk, they arrived at Archie’s father's noodle shop.

Aimee admired the single-story building, its orange paint faded, nestled among similar rundown buildings selling various food and goods.

What set Archie’s shop apart was the signboard that read,

'Troy’s Family Noodles.'

Archie swung the front door wide open to be greeted by a tall man blocking their path.

They were met with a towering figure, nearly 6 feet tall, his face obscured by a large mustache, donned in a white chef hat and chef robe. His stern expression resembled a lion eyeing its prey, but as soon as he noticed the customers entering his shop, his tone was cheerful,

"Welcome, Welcome, Welcome!"

He greeted the shop’s customers immediately when his shop door opened, oblivious to the fact that he was welcoming his own son and niece.

"Hello, Uncle," Aimee waved her hands, while Archie averted his gaze, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Aimee!" Archie’s father exclaimed in surprise, "Look at you, you've grown as tall as Archie in just six months. How are you?"

Aimee giggled and responded, "Uncle, it’s normal height for a 15-year-old girl, but it’s just that Archie didn’t grow enough."

"What you said is exactly true. Look at him. He looks like a stick with arms and legs." Archie’s father expressed his concern, but it came across as mockery.

Aimee chuckled, "At least sticks…"

Before Aimee could finish her sentence, Archie interjected,

"She is not here to talk, she just wants noodles. Serve her that."

Archie voiced his thoughts and walked towards the stairs that led him to his room. As he reached the first floor, there were two rooms. Archie entered the room on the right and shut the door with a bang, expressing his irritation.

Before either Aimee or Archie's father could utter another word, Archie let the cat out of the bag, making it impossible to have a normal conversation again.

Aimee simply turned around and headed towards the door and left without uttering a word.

Archie, in his room lying on the bed, began to glare at the ceiling fan.