3. Unlikely Friend

I left for school on my own, skipping breakfast with the so-called family. If they didn't care about me, I wasn't going to waste my time trying to know them either. Besides, I had much more important things to focus on—like the insane amount of money sitting in my bank account.

Apparently, my "dad," Leigh Spencer, ran a massive luxury retail franchise, and my "mom" owned a financial consulting firm. Together, they were almost billionaires. Even this loser kid's personal bank account held a staggering $15 million—all because he got a ridiculously high allowance and never spent a dime.

I'd never seen that much legal money in one place before. It was just sitting there, untouched, waiting for me to burn through it.

I couldn't fucking wait.

"We've arrived, young master," Erwin announced as the car rolled to a stop.

I looked out the window and holy shit.

The school in front of me wasn't just a school—it was a goddamn castle. It looked like one of those elite European academies straight out of a pretentious boarding school movie. Marble pillars, arched windows, golden-fucking-gates, and pristine gardens.

The students all looked like they had never worked a day in their lives—dressed in high-end designer uniforms, stepping out of luxury cars with chauffeurs in black suits. Even the goddamn air smelled expensive.

"Good shit," I muttered, taking it all in.

This was exactly the kind of place where people got too comfortable sitting on top, completely unaware that someone like me could crawl up from the bottom and take everything from them.

It wouldn't even be hard.

Most of these rich kids looked fragile as hell. None of them had ever tasted real hardship. No hunger, no desperation, no fight. They were perfect prey.

"I'm gonna run so many scams in this place," I smirked.

Erwin, sitting stiffly in the front seat, cleared his throat. "Young Master, are you feeling alright?"

"Why?"

"You seem... very eager to do something."

"Oh yeah, I'm going to turn this school upside down," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Senior year's about to be very interesting for me."

Erwin hesitated. "Yes, but—"

"No worries, Erwin! I'm good!" I chuckled, stepping out of the car.

The moment I walked through the golden gates, I felt it.

Eyes.

Too many eyes. People whispering, pointing, staring.

In my last life, I only ever got this much attention from the cops. I didn't like it one bit.

I passed by two girls, and immediately, they started giggling and pinching their noses.

"Ew. Ever heard of a shower, Spencer?" one of them sneered.

The other laughed. "Spencer? More like the Ugly Duckling."

Their little group burst out laughing, and some random asshole chimed in, "I bet twenty bucks he'll go cry about it."

Laughter. Jeers.

I could hear everything. The disgust, the taunts, the thirsty idiots making bets on whether they could get in my pants.

And the warnings—don't get near him, you might catch something.

Then, a loud, obnoxious voice rang out.

"Hey! Look who actually decided not to drop out! It's the Jack-off!"

Ah. So this Jack kid was a fucking loser.

I couldn't have that. I wouldn't have that. But right now, in this pathetically scrawny body, I didn't exactly look intimidating.

I'd have to prove myself fast.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, faggot—"

CRACK.

Before I could think, my fist was already in his face.

A sickening crunch, a burst of blood, and the guy crumpled to the floor, clutching his very broken nose.

Ahhh. That felt so damn good to do.

Past life strength, baby!

The entire hallway went dead silent from all the whispers.

"Holy shit! Spencer snapped!"

There was just more stares. Shock.

I scowled at them all showing me too much attention.

I spat on the guy. "Talk to me like that again, and I'll break more than your fucking face, you pussy. Pick on someone your own level."

A big statement was still a fucking statement. Besides, he started it.

[New Mission: Make Your First Friend.

Reward: Good Karma.

Penalty: Electric Shock]

FUCK.

I don't want friends!

If I'd learned anything in my past life, it was that friends would stab you in the back the second you let your guard down. I didn't need any fucking friends. I needed power.

[Failure to accept will result in immediate mission failure.]

Which means immediate electrocution?

I sighed.

Guess I'm making a fucking friend today. I just don't know how!

"I don't have any money!"

I turned toward the desperate voice and saw two guys cornering some big tall dude. He was built like he could wreck them if he wanted to, yet he was cowering in fear like a kicked dog.

Was he just big for no reason? What the fuck was he doing?

"I'm poor," the tall kid mumbled. "Someone else already took my money."

"Oh, so you want a beating?" one of the assholes sneered.

"Dude, just hand over your wallet! You wouldn't want the school day to get tougher for you, do you?"

To drive the point home, the other guy kicked his shin. Hard. The big guy dropped to his knees, his lip trembling like he was about to cry.

Ugh. I can't watch this shit.

"Hey!" I snapped. The two dickheads turned to me with amused faces. "Get lost, you fucking losers."

Their faces went red. "You must've really lost your mind over the summer, Jack! You can't do anything but cry! Why are you sticking up for this piece of garbage?"

"Hand over your wallet, or we'll just beat both of you up since you pissed me off on such a good day!"

I hate guys that don't fucking listen.

I especially hate arrogant rich pricks who can't back their shit up with their hands.

I rushed forward, fist colliding with the first guy's gut. He wheezed as all the air left his body before he crumpled to the ground.

The second guy barely had time to react before I slammed my knee into his stomach, sending him sprawling.

"Not so fucking tough now, huh?" I sneered, gripping his collar and slamming my fist into his face.

He grunted, trying to shove me off, but I was already raining down punches.

"Come on, you little bitch, is that all you got?" Crack. His nose bled. "Talk all that big shit but can't throw a single punch?" Wham. His eye was swelling up now. "Next time you even look at that guy wrong, I'll break your fucking legs."

I finally let go, and he crumpled onto the floor, groaning in pain.

The hallway was dead silent.

I wiped my hands off on my pants, turning toward the trembling tall kid in the corner.

The moment he saw me looking at him, he turned away like I'd strike him next.

I got a better look at him—tall as hell, semi-muscular build, black hair covering his face like a fucking horror movie ghost.

"Hey." I jerked my head toward him. "Pick your shit up and let's go."

The guy scrambled to pick up his bag and staggered over to me. "Th-thanks," he mumbled.

"That wasn't for you." I scowled, wiping my knuckles off on my pants. "Their faces just pissed me off."

"Those two freaks are friends?" someone whispered behind me.

Shit.

I accidentally drew another goddamn crowd.

[Mission Accomplished. You've made a new friend and received good karma]

FUCK.

I didn't mean to actually make a friend that quickly. And why the hell did this guy already think of me as his friend?

I glanced at him again, this time noticing the floating stats above his head.

Love meter: 60%. Hate meter: 0%.

Interesting. I'd observed Erwin before, and 50% seemed to be neutral—his hate bar was at a firm 0% too. So was friendship 60% on the love meter?

I frowned. "Name?"

"D-Damien Anderson," he mumbled.

I eyed him. "Why didn't you fight back?"

Damien flinched. "W-what?"

"If you wanted to, you could've beaten them up first. Why not do it?"

"I... I don't like violence," Damien admitted, looking down.

What the fuck?

"Well, get used to it so you can at least defend yourself, idiot! What's wrong with you?" I hissed. "Have some fucking pride as a man!"

Damien tensed. "I just... I don't want to hurt anybody."

Ugh.

"Fine. If someone fucks with you, just tell me and I'll deal with them." I sighed. "If we're going to be friends, I can't have you making me look bad."

Damien's eyes widened. "A-are we really friends, Jack?"

His love meter shot up to 82%.

What the fuck?

"Yeah, I don't seem to have any other friends, so you'll have to do," I scowled. "Problem?"

"No! No problem!" Damien grinned. "You don't seem to be anything like what the rumors say."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do they say?"

Damien shifted uncomfortably. "That you... seduce everyone you come into contact with and..." He trailed off. "And that you sell yourself."

My jaw clenched. How fucking stupid. I'd never even been touched before. In my past life, I was married to Emily for six years and never laid a finger on her. And now I had to fight rumors about being some super slut?

"You don't believe that shit, do you?" I asked darkly.

"No way! I wouldn't believe that about a... a friend!" Damien said quickly.

I eyed him for a moment before holding out my hand. "Give me your schedule for class."

To my surprise, Damien immediately handed it over. I glanced at it—and nearly groaned.

Every single class was the same. Of course it was!

"Looks like we were fated to become friends," I muttered. "Whatever. Take me to the first class already. I don't know my way around."

Damien blinked. "You don't? We've been coming to the same school for years."

Shit.

"Stress-induced amnesia," I lied smoothly.

Damien gave me a skeptical look but nodded and led the way.

At least I didn't get electrocuted.