We drift to 17 years ago.
Were we met, were we merge and were we...
A sleek, luxury car from 2009 glides through the gates of an elite Japanese high school, its engine humming like a quiet storm.
The car comes to a halt in front of the main building. The door opens.
LOUIS, a strikingly handsome blonde, steps out. The wind hits his face, tousling his perfect hair—yet his expression remains stoic, unreadable.
Inside the car, the chauffeur leans out, attempting small talk, his tone light and cheerful.
Madhav
Young master, should thee parents be informed?
Louis cuts him off with a single cold glance. The man falls silent.
His
gaze to the school building, his blue eyes filled with thinly veiled malice.
Louis Vuit
Parents?
He blinked to the driver and
his lip stretch thin.
Louis Vuit
What're those?
Madhav
Nothing.
Nothing, young master...
SAME TIME
HARUTO, a Japanese boy with a delicate frame and neatly kept uniform, rushes down the hallway. He’s clearly late, clutching books against his chest.
In his panic, he doesn’t notice the approaching figure.
CRASH.
He slams into someone—both fall to the ground. Papers scatter in the air.
The world freezes for a breath.
Haruto gasps, quickly pushing himself up. His voice spills out in a flurry:
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