𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐘

ONE.

Daisei Private Institution was known to be an prestigious academy—one that boasted stellar grades, won every award, and hosted wealthy, intelligent students.

Acceptance rate was extremely low, and only the cream of the crop were able to get in; and even then, cliques were often formed. There was the bottom of the gutter; the ones who had barely scraped through, and then there were the high-achievers—the ones who scored the top in the grades.

Point was, it was near impossible to get accepted.

And...yet you did. You got in, somehow.

Okay, maybe not somehow. You had wanted to go to Daisei for ages; you didn't care if it was an all-boys school, you figured that finding a wealthy spouse in a school where everyone was wealthy would be a good career plan. See, you weren't exactly super rich, like you would have liked to be. You had snagged that scholarship and you were ready to drive the highway to money.

You applied, and woohoo! You were in. Along with the acceptance letter had come the uniform and the rule book, which was unfortunately three hundred and sixty four pages long. You hadn't looked at it.

"Mom, I'll have to pack my bags to leave for Daisei." You strolled in the room, the envelope in your hand. It was heavy, smooth, and even had the name of the academy embedded on it. You wondered with amusement if the parchment paper had cost more than the clothes you were wearing.

"That's my boy," she beamed. "I made you breakfast."

You peered at the burnt mess on the table.

"That looks like burnt bacon. I thought you said we ran out of bacon? Did you go to the grocery store?"

"No, but our neighbor had that pet, remember?" Your mother looked innocently at you. "What was its name again? Lily?"

Lily the pig. Your neighbor's pride and joy, a big fat pink pig with a squiggly tail... you had heard that your mother and your neighbor had gotten into a fight again; and it seemed like this time, the casualty was the poor pet pig that was now sitting in front of you.

"You murdered Lily," you deadpanned, "and you even burnt her. It's..." you poked it. "I can't even pierce my fork through it. It's too tough."

"Hm." Your mother's eyes furrowed, "I might have set the heat too high."

"You think?"

"Ugh, fine, I did." Your mother huffed, furrowing her eyebrows, "well, I'll probably head to go bungee jumping later." She hummed, before she added thoughtfully: "but without a rope."

"Without a rope, you'll die."

"Oh, right." She sighed. "Don't be a mood-killer, [Name]."

Your mother was flighty, utterly eccentric and absurd. According to your father, who was currently in the sea somewhere trying to find an endangered species of shark, you were first terrified as a child when your mother did such off-putting things, but you supposed it had become normalized to you over time.

"The people at Daisei will be weird," she warned.

"I think I'm pretty used to it. I live with you."

"Aww," She beamed.

"That wasn't a compliment. Anyways, I just decided to tell you first, before I pack and get going." You set down the fork, looking hopelessly at the plate of bacon. Looks like you would have to go without breakfast.

"Don't forget Halsey."

"What?"

"Your lucky rock. Your father shipped it from...what was that place again? Oh. Right. Antarctica."