Chapter 3

Asher habitually took the back seat, while Sebastian, for some unknown reason, sat in the front passenger seat.

Watching the back of Sebastian's head—his hair slightly damp and separated into small clumps—Asher finally felt a bit more comfortable. He leaned back lazily against the leather seat, pulled out his phone, and opened a group chat named [Two As and an O].

Elliot: [Is Sebastian really back?]

Asher: [Yeah.]

Milo: [Ash, quick, look at the Northmont High forum!]

Asher: [Do I look like I have nothing to do?]

Elliot: [The Northmont High forum is practically exploding because of Sebastian's return.]

Milo: [Seriously, Ash. There’s not much reaction at our school yet, but Northmont High is truly blowing up. This new transfer boss seems to have quite the cultural and historical legacy.]

Asher: [Is that how you humanities students phrase things now?]

Despite saying he wasn't interested, Asher swiped out of the WeChat interface and clicked on the web page for the Northmont High forum.

It was indeed exploding.

In a page of twenty posts, ten featured Sebastian's name and five were titled "The Boss."

The hottest thread was titled: 【That Man, He’s Back】.

Upon opening it, the lead image was a photo of Sebastian at the gate of Southaven Prep.

He stood in the curtain of rain holding an umbrella. His crisp white shirt emphasized an Alpha's superior shoulder width and waistline. His legs were impossibly long, and the glimpse of his ankle was slender, powerful, and well-defined.

He was taller, more mature, and more imposing than he had been at fourteen; only that tiny mole beneath his eye remained unchanged.

The caption read: Three years after that man left Southaven, he has returned, and he is even more perfect.

[My god is back!! I'm ready again!!]

[The most Alpha A in Southaven is finally back! My crush didn't end in a 'Bad Ending'!]

[What is with this man?! How did he get even more handsome?! My eyes just got pregnant today.]

[Is this really necessary? Even if Sebastian is back, what does it have to do with you?]

[The number of early admission slots for the top national universities just decreased by one. I’m going back to my practice problems. Goodbye, everyone.]

[Me too.]

[Ahhh, why did my god go to Southaven Prep! Is it too late for me to transfer there now?!]

...

[Why didn't Sebastian go back to Northmont High?]

Hundreds of floors into the thread, the conversation came to a screeching halt at that last question.

It was like a tacitly understood taboo.

Asher exited the post with a light scoff. That old drama—these people still hadn't forgotten it.

And was it really necessary? Sebastian was only fourteen when he left, just a kid. Where did all this charm come from? A bunch of people blindly praising him, calling him the "most Alpha A in Southaven," huh.

Was he more Alpha than Asher?

Thinking of this, Asher couldn't help but reopen the thread, click on the photo, and stare at it for three seconds.

Yeah, definitely not more Alpha than me. The people at Northmont High have terrible taste, just like Milo.

As he looked, he suddenly remembered something and raised an eyebrow.

Didn't this guy have an umbrella?

It must have been swiped by some unscrupulous prick, which resulted in Asher being mocked for his height for no reason.

Young Master Asher's lips pressed into a slightly displeased straight line.

Sebastian glanced at the rearview mirror, then turned his head to look out the window.

Dark clouds pressed down on the city, and the light was dim. Massive raindrops hammered against the street buildings, soaking them into deep, somber colors. The entire city was flowing with a misty, gray prosperity.

It was exactly as he remembered.

The Asher and Sebastian families were old family friends; their great-grandfathers had been brothers in the same foxhole.

Later, Asher’s grandfather and Sebastian’s grandfather were assigned to Southaven together. They moved their entire families from the north and became neighbors.

Eventually, Asher’s grandfather passed away in the line of duty, and the family house was reclaimed. Asher’s father chose to go into business, while Sebastian’s father returned to Northmont, rising rapidly through the ranks with the support of the family foundation and his father's influence.

The two families should have drifted apart, but Sebastian’s aunt happened to go into business with Asher’s father. Together, they monopolized the real estate and retail markets in Southaven. Sebastian’s grandfather was a sentimental man; he refused several promotions to Northmont. Consequently, the two families simply bought houses next to each other again.

In the downtown mansion district, the European-style villas nestled under sycamore trees stood opposite each other, separated only by a tree-lined path and two lawns. One could see from window to window, door to door.

Asher and Sebastian grew up together in this environment since they were in diapers.

However, Asher’s family doted on their son, picking the most prestigious private schools from primary through middle school, terrified the young master might suffer even a hint of grievance. Sebastian’s father, being protective of his reputation, sent Sebastian to public schools for his nine years of compulsory education. Later, in ninth grade, Sebastian moved to Northmont. Thus, their actual head-to-head confrontations weren't that frequent.

Asher felt that if Sebastian were a girl, they might have become a beautiful legend of "childhood sweethearts who were also rivals."

Unfortunately, Sebastian...

Tsk.

He looked at the sycamore leaves scattered by the rain outside the window, felt a brief moment of lament, opened the car door, and got out.

After Sebastian moved away, the father and son hadn't returned to Southaven; Sebastian’s grandfather only went to Northmont for the New Year. So, over the past three years, Asher had spent far more time with the old man than Sebastian had.

Entering the Sebastian residence was like entering his own home. During dinner, he repeatedly reminded the grandfather which foods to avoid for his high blood pressure and ensured he took his medication afterward.

It made Sebastian, the true grandson, look like an outsider.

But a grandson is a grandson. Sebastian’s grandfather held Asher’s hand, but he spoke of Sebastian: "Ash, I know your grades are excellent. Now that Seb has transferred to your class, help him out when you have time. I’m worried the boy might not keep up."

Asher glanced at Sebastian, who was sitting on the sofa opposite them, and felt he needed to reclaim the dignity he’d lost earlier regarding his height.

He curled his lips: "Sure, Grandpa. I’ll take care of it. But as you know, I’m not a very patient person. I’m just afraid if he doesn't learn, I might get frustrated and start a fight. You can't blame me then."

After speaking, he flicked his gaze up, a provocative look sweeping over Sebastian.

He didn't actually intend to tutor Sebastian. Besides, with Sebastian’s arrogant personality, would he ever allow himself to be tutored?

Impossible.

He just wanted to embarrass him.

To his surprise, Sebastian merely lifted an eyelid and looked at him indifferently.

"Your place or mine?"

"?"

Wait, how did it suddenly become "your place or mine"?

When Asher found himself sitting at the desk in Sebastian's bedroom, with his elbow only a book's distance away from the other's, he looked up at the potted cedar outside his own bedroom window in the opposite building and fell into a brief silence.

Was he the one who was sick, or was it Sebastian?

How did they actually end up in a tutoring session?

Was their relationship ever this friendly and harmonious?

Asher remained in a silent daze.

A hand stretched out in front of him.

It was slender and well-proportioned, with well-defined joints; the faint blue veins were visible beneath the cool, pale skin.

Fingers tapped the desk twice: "Snap out of it."

As he tapped, Asher caught a faint scent. He frowned: "Sebastian, don't be such a closet drama queen. You even spray perfume on your wrists?"

Sebastian slanted a look at him: "Which nostril told you that?"

Asher was serious: "How should I know which nostril smelled it? They're so close together, it's not like they file separate reports."

"..."

Sebastian turned his head and looked at him like he was an idiot.

His eyes were long and narrow, and his pupils were light. Without his glasses, his gaze was somewhat lazy, unconsciously carrying a touch of indifferent disdain. He lifted his wrist provocatively: "Want to smell again?"

"Sure."

"..."

Asher actually grabbed his wrist, leaned down, and sniffed twice. Afterward, he raised an eyebrow in confusion: "Strange. Why is the scent gone?"

His breath carried the vivid heat of youth. As it brushed against the cool skin of the wrist, it triggered a faint, burning itch.

Sebastian pulled his hand back nonchalantly: "Because I didn't spray anything at all."

"No, I definitely smelled it just now." Young Master Asher felt he had been gravely wronged. "My nose is legendary. Every time your grandpa sneaks a midnight snack, I can catch him from my house. There's no way I’m wrong. If you’ve got the guts, let me smell again."

As he spoke, his left hand gripped the back of Sebastian's chair. He leaned over, ducking his head toward the back of Sebastian's neck.

His logic was simple: if someone sprays perfume on their wrist, they definitely spray it on their carotid artery too.

However, just as the stray hairs on his forehead brushed against Sebastian’s neck, the chair he was holding was suddenly pushed back.

Sebastian stood up swiftly, turned aside to avoid him, and looked down with cold eyes. A trace of imperceptible restlessness flashed in his tone: "Asher, do you have any common sense at all?"

Asher froze. Realizing he had just been given the cold shoulder, his young master temper flared up instantly: "I’m just checking if you're wearing perfume. How is that a lack of common sense? We're both guys, are you freaking shy or something?"

Sebastian ignored him. With a "snap," he closed the workbook. His voice was calm: "I’ve finished the last major problem. You can go back now."

The bastard actually dared to kick him out.

Asher was so angry he laughed. Without a word, he stood up. Because the movement was so abrupt, the chair was pushed back a long way, making a sharp, grating sound against the wooden floor.

"Like I even want to be here!"

With that, he stomped downstairs and slammed the door shut with a loud "bang."

Although Asher had a temper, he was usually careful with his behavior in front of his elders.

This state showed he was truly pissed off.

Watching the orange light flicker on in the room opposite his, Sebastian put down the workbook. He pinched the bridge of his nose, picked up his phone, and clicked on the pinned chat at the top.

If Asher was a wealthy young master in an ancient setting, Sebastian would at least be the legitimate eldest son of a Prime Minister’s house. His temper was only ever larger than Asher's, never smaller.

But Asher’s greatest virtue was his fearlessness toward authority. He felt Sebastian was just acting a bit superior and there was nothing to fear, so he was determined to let his temper run wild without holding back.

Yet, since they were children, Sebastian—whether out of laziness or some other reason—had always intentionally or unintentionally indulged him. This had truly cultivated a personality in Asher that couldn't handle the slightest grievance.

Fortunately, Asher’s temper came and went quickly. By the time he finished his shower, everything was forgotten.

With one hand ruffling his hair with a towel, he used the other to take out his phone, intending to apologize to Sebastian's grandfather.

He hadn't said goodnight to the elder when he left; it was too impolite.

He opened WeChat. A familiar profile picture had a red dot in the top right corner.

The profile picture was a vast expanse of white, and the nickname was just a single letter: B.

The last record in the chat was a New Year's greeting Asher's mother had forced him to send.

There was only one new message: [Don't go sniffing other people's glands like that in the future.]

A drop of water from his hair fell and hit the phone screen with a "thud."

Asher curled his lips. So, he really was shy.

Fine. It was his own fault for not paying attention in biology class and not having presented yet; he was too oblivious and lacked boundaries. He couldn't blame Sebastian for being angry.

His mistake, he had to coax him.

His fingertips moved, quickly typing a reply.

[It smelled pretty good. Have some confidence.]

Even though Sebastian wouldn't admit to wearing perfume, Asher was certain he smelled it.

It was a crisp, cold fragrance, like a pine forest in the snow.

It really did smell good.

And in that moment, he had felt an indescribable sense of physical and mental comfort, so it was impossible for him to be mistaken.

That closet drama queen definitely wore perfume.

When Sebastian received this message, he looked up at the swaying silhouette reflected on the curtains opposite him and narrowed his eyes.

Some people really just needed to be taught a lesson.

However, it seemed he was already starting to smell pheromones. He should be entering his presentation period soon.