High school, as most people knew, was the best part of our youth. I wasn’t about to waste it for anything else, so the first thing in the morning, I woke up with newfound energy and lots of excitement about going to school. Half of my life I had been home-schooled because of privacy and safety priority.

Fancy as it was, there was almost nothing mythological or even magical about the four clans: Suzakku, Seiryuu, Genbu and Byakko. On the surface, we were better known as famous clans that produced lots of politicians and businessmen. We were well connected with the governments and had our fair share of goods’ investments in almost everything.

However, if you looked at the inner chaos and political struggle of each clan, you would be surprised to find out that our clans could be traced back to ancient history that few could recall. The legend said that our families were blessed by the power of these four Gods, who brought prosperity and fame to us in return. My family, the Yoon, worshipped the Dragon of the East, Seiryuu.

Unlike others, Seiryuu’s leader – often referred to as shells because the blood of the four Gods flowed in our body – would be protected by two male fighters, or commonly known as protectors or warriors. They were trained as children to be excellent assassins and spies, which literally meant that they had to be perfect in everything.

To be frank, there was nothing really special about being a shell, except for our bloods. Only the leader, the protectors and a few selected Elders knew how precious our blood was, for the legend said that it could cure any sickness and granted immortality to a suitable body vessel. Of course, no one had ever recorded such a horrible thing in the Book of Dawn, a secret book that was passed down from leaders of each generation.

“Lady Sena, do you want me to help you with the hair?” A female servant that was cleaning the room asked politely. I shook my head and changed into my new uniform. I didn’t think I would ever get used to having so many helpers around the house, “There is no need. I won’t tie my hair today. I will go down and get some breakfast.”

In the dining room, Mr. Kim was setting down the utensils and plates, and surprisingly, both Jongin and Sehun were already there. Sehun was fixing his sleeves and collar in front of the mirror by the basin as Jongin munched down a few hash browns on the table.  

“Lady…” Sehun wanted to greet me, I could tell, but I raised my finger and he slowed down, a smile slowly curved up his thin lips, “Sena.”

“That’s it,” I chuckled and complimented him. His face was almost serene when I looked at him, no signs of embarrassment whatsoever. “The two of you are pretty early. Do you have morning class?”

Jongin acted as if he did not hear me, but I saw how the corner of his eyes darted at my direction as I sat down next to him. “Not really. I’m skipping it,” Jongin stopped stuffing more food into his mouth and replied in a cracked morning voice. Sehun pulled his sleeve all the way to his elbows and sat down in front of us. “Since he is skipping class, he can drive you to school.”

Jongin snickered at Sehun, and in return, the younger one gave him a cold glance, as if he was swatting off a fly. It was interesting how these two became rivals since their early age. Some blamed it on their joint training, which was understandable.

“I don’t mind taking public transport, you know,” I interrupted and drank a glass of chocolate milk. Mr. Kim wanted to do the spread for my bread, but I waved him off and added on, “I’m not a baby, I can handle things just fine. Both of you can go to class. Especially you, Jongin.”

He gave me a harsh chuckle and slurped his noodle ignorantly.

He was taking Psychology. But strangely, his Professors never reprimand him for skipping classes. “Hey, Kim Jongin,” Sehun called out coldly, and Jongin chose to ignore his disrespectful calling, “Tell me, did you blackmail the Professors?”

I feigned ignorance and bit onto my bread. I had to find a way to get them to work together or else, it would be troublesome in the future. Grandfather did mention something about their occasional argument and trouble of getting along well, but to have it to such extent shamed me as their leader.

“What if I do?” Jongin quirked an eyebrow as a challenge, and before a fight could erupt in this sacred dining hall, I lifted my hand and stopped them, “Enough! Sehun, stop provoking fights from Jongin! You are not twelve years old, for goodness sake! And you, insolent fool!” I raised a finger to point at Jongin, “Stop being so ignorant of everything! The two of you are partners!”

Sehun sighed and shook his head helplessly. Jongin smirked from behind his chopsticks and continued eating. I took a deep breath and glared at them both, “If you want to fight, settle it on the sparring matt like real adults. Anyway, I’m finished. Gotta go now. Don’t start training without me!”

Sehun burst out laughing, “My Lady, you’re not supposed to be encouraging us to fight, you know?”

I looked at him with disdain and picked up my school bag, “Oh Sehun, when I am wearing this,” I pointed at my uniform, “I am Yoon Sena, your eighteen year-old cousin who is a high school senior. You can address me as Your Lady or whatever in formal parties when I am wearing fancy dresses and whatsoever. Is that clear?”

Sehun stifled his laughter and nodded. I turned to Jongin, “The same goes for you too, though I highly doubt that you’d ever call me by any titles or my name. So ciao! I’m waiting for a good sparring tonight!”  

I walked out of the room without waiting for them. Seoul was a big city with a lot of public transport. I could easily blend into the crowd. With that thought in my head, I headed towards the nearest bus station in the area.

***

“Yoon… Sena?”

I finally looked at the administrator on the face and realized I had been spacing out for a while. I nodded blankly and took the class schedule he had given me. First period was English, second period was P.E and the rest were all science and math. I saw the hesitant look on the administrator’s face, as if he wanted to ask me something else, but in the end, he gave me a permission slip that would explain my tardiness for the class.

As soon as I walked out of the office, I heard noises from chairs being pushed back and hushed chatters in low tones they thought I could not hear, “Is it the girl from the Yoon family, the one that came under the recommendation of our vice principal?”

“There are quite a few Yoon in here. Maybe you are mistaken,” A second female voice joined in. I could hear the excitement at the newfound gossip in the usually boring school. Instead of pride, I felt shame.

Joining high school was actually my own selfish decision, no matter how many times grandfather warned me not to. Unlike Japan, the Yoon family was more well-known in South Korea because this was where our main family was located. I wanted to be ordinary, but as he had said before, there was nothing ordinary about our bloodline.

“You are the new student, aren’t you?” The teacher came out of the classroom at the sound of my knocking. He was a stern middle-aged man with clean-shaven face and impeccably neat appearance. “Come in and introduce yourself to the whole class. And I would expect you not to be late for the second time, young lady.”

I muttered a ‘yes’ and stared at the classroom. It was not so different compared to Japan. This class apparently had more male students than female because it was a science-honorary class. They looked up, their expression not too welcoming, nor was it hostile. A small, unsure smile made its way to my face,

“Hi, I’m Yoon Sena. Well… Pleased to meet you.”

It was too short and Mr. Jung, the teacher, did not allow any questions during class time. He assigned me to the second seat on the back near the window. From here, I could see the soccer field, where a few of the students were playing at. I was scolded a few times for not paying enough attention, but I was bored, so I still sneakily stole glances at the soccer game.

By the time the first period ended and the second one started, everyone was busy changing clothes and running around excitedly because of P.E. I was treated as a wallflower, positively ignored and practically non-existent throughout the entire day. I guess it was better because I heard people in Seoul could be very mean at times, so bullying was a very common case that even the teachers had given up hope for.

The day went on quickly and before I realized it, the bell had rung when the clock struck 4pm. I spent most of the days watching clouds and the green grass field, so I was very surprised when I counted the amount of homeworks they had given me. One English essay, ten pages Math homework and one Science project that was to be submitted by the end of the term. I loved going to public school, but like any other students, I hated homeworks and tests with utmost passion.

As I walked out of the school building, I saw a familiar car a hundred meters away from the entrance. It seemed that no one else noticed, because most students were heading to the other direction. The tinted window rolled down, and an obnoxious raven-haired head showed up sideways.

“Get in, Princess.”

His lips looked swollen, as if he had been bitten, and perhaps he did, because the kiss mark on his neck said so. I blatantly stared at it as if he had sinned by showing me those marks. The imagination of a hot, wild make out session soon made its way to my head, and that, alone, was enough to last all the way until dinner.

I did not want to prey into his private business. I really didn’t, but curiosity got the best of me when I opened my blabbermouth and asked stupidly, “Is that…” Cough awkwardly. I was blushing, “Err…”

“My girlfriend?” He smoothly finished the sentence I could never have. Jongin seemed pretty confident and calm, so I assumed he was fine with my question. His nonchalant reply, however, caught me off-guard, “Not really. Just some girls I ran onto in the hallway.”

My fists became very itchy. I wanted to punch the hell out of him. Through gritted teeth, I glared at him and spoke, but not in a demanding tone a leader should have had, but more of an angry hiss from a teenager girl, “What the hell, Kim Jongin?”

“Well, it’s not that big of a deal, is it?” He wiped the stain on his lips. I hated how easily he made it sound like. But he was right. It was not my problem. He was a nineteen year-old man with hormone. I got it. But I wasn’t happy at all. Even when Sehun called me down to the sparring matt, I was still thinking about Jongin and how his lips would dance around in the most sensual way, which disgusted me even more.