Bereinger’s eyes followed the boy’s silhouette until he was well out of sight. Standing protectively in between Aruvia and where the boy had stood, making sure that he didn't return with worse intentions than just “asking for help”.

  The boy was the definition of unkempt, with his greasy black hair, pimpled face and hunched back posture. Bereinger felt a trickle of pity for the shorter boy. He clearly had no guidance or direction in life, however with the right training he was sure he could become a fine knight.

  Though his attitude made that a difficult endeavour. Even from a distance he could tell how tense, and uncomfortable Aruvia was during their whole interaction. Attempting to make distance between them, which the boy had obnoxiously reciprocated. Her refusal clearly hurt his tiny ego.

  Those types of men were the worst. Trying to get with girls by taking advantage of their natural kindness. If there was anything worse than arrogant nobles, it was arrogant men.

  Aruvia was lucky Bereinger had stepped in on time, otherwise who knew what that cretin would have done. She deserved someone like him, who would cherish and protect her like the princess that she was. Not someone who only sought her for shallow companionship.

  ____________________________________________________

  Yasu footsteps echoed in the silent chamber of dread that was the artificial garden.

  While all the other idols were either celebrating or mourning their recent evaluations, Yasu hadn't even spared his a glance.

  Because he already knew what he was going to get.

  The same two numbers, tauntingly staring back at him each time. Masquerading as some important score, with its bold font and considerable size.

  Placing him amongst the lowest ranks, where only the poor, selectively bred experiments resided. Idols with horrific modifications made on their bodies, aimed to achieve a certain aesthetic the aliens deemed pleasing.

  The most common of which being; Noses so tiny they couldn't breathe properly, elongated limbs so narrow they were constantly dislocating, and reduced fat stores which made them vulnerable to illnesses.

  However, the system’s biggest mistake was assuming that to be a punishment. While every other idol was just the same copy pasted cut out of a conventionally attractive person– Their raw skill and ambition is what made people feel drawn to them. That’s why he wasn't ashamed to be a “lower ranked idol”.

  In fact, he took it as the highest form of compliment.

  Yasu was already done with the day. He contemplated just skipping dance practice all together, it wouldn't be the first time.

  Sneakily, he tried to blend in with the other idols in the crowd. Trying to get to the artificial’s garden training gym, where there were little wooden houses he could use to hide in. His flute rattled in his pocket, beckoning him to play it, and if it was one thing he was loyal to, it was beautiful instruments.

  Alas, fate had other plans for him.

  Yasu’s steps slowed down as he stumbled upon a group of very ghastly looking boys his age. Three other boys, all bearing some kind of noticeable deformity that they seem all too aware of. Constantly trying to cover it with their hands.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The exact group he didn't want to be spotted by right now. His group, unfortunately named NYAP— since the name YNAP was taken by a higher ranked group.

  The group sat in a secluded corner of the artificial garden, all sulking and complaining about their evaluation score. The loudest of which being Hugo, echoing each of their sentiments like a manager trying to decide who was to blame for their loss of profits.

  Yasu knew it was stupid, but how could he miss on such priceless entertainment? He watched the display from the privacy of a thick oak tree, discreetly peeking behind it.

  “How did we somehow manage to lose more points?!” Hugo grilled, staring accusingly at the rest of the group, centering on Pavle specifically.

  “Dont blame me, blame Fabron!” Pavle petulantly snapped back defensively, “His manager refused to contribute to the bid at that charity event, making us lose to Echo5.”

  The mention of their rival group made all the boys collectively groan.

  “How the hell is it my fault…?” Fabron defended indignantly, “Did you expect me to grovel and beg my manager in front of national television or something!”

  “Yeah, actually, what's the harm in sucking his dick on and off screen? Knowing you– it would actually be a reward to be wanted for once.” Pavle shot back, panting heavily as the length of the sentence was too demanding for his flat faced self.

  Fabron gave him a sharp glare, Pavle returned it with a challenging grin. Taunting him by barking like a dog, laying down on his knees with his hands tightened into fits meant to resemble paws.

  Yasu swallowed a bark of laughter, pressing his face into the bark of the oak tree to muffle the little giggles that followed. He pulled out a shiny piece of metal from his pocket. Repeatedly pressing into it, letting it bounce back up again. Sending sharp vibrations to ripple through the air, creating the illusion of music.

  His motive was to make an exciting backdrop to the clearly “epic” fight before him. Though in his excitement for mockery, he had forgotten he was supposed to be hiding.

  All the boys snapped their heads to the oak tree. Hugo ran to the tree with the might of a buffalo herd, almost pushing it aside to see who was making that terrible noise.

  Hugo’s eyes widened in relief, then fury as he saw Yasu. The boy in question tried to flee at the last moment, but Hugo stopped him dead in his tracks, catching him by the collar.

  “There’s the damn rascale!” He hissed, practically breathing down Yasu’s neck

  “Hugo, and the others… h-how’s it hanging?”

  “How’s it hanging!?” Hugo repeated in indignation, spitting out every word. Yanking Yasu down beside them, and throwing him in the center of the group like he was being interrogated.

  “Because of YOU were barley hanging, where the fuck were you during the charity event?”

  “I…” Yasu scrambled for an answer, “My knee man, you know how it gets sometimes.. Refuses to listen, just wont connect with me..!” In truth, he had ditched the event to play with his homemade flute in the artificial garden.

  “Its always your damn knee– we have problems too, but we still perform.” Pavle called out, running his fingers through his thin hair in expiration.

  “Yeah, I had to dance with a dislocated shoulder once.” Fabron nodded, leaning on Pavle’s head.

  Pavle pushed him off with a powerful headbutt, “You were only tap dancing, it wasn't that impressive.”

  “Your knee?” Hugo repeated, raising a messy brow.

  “My knee, yes.”

  “And why didn't you, I don't know…” Hugo threw an arm around him, and just when Yasu thought he would get away with- He suddenly captured him in a potent headlock, “TELL US ABOUT IT BEFORE HAND?!”

  Yasu tried to break free, thrashing around as Hugo slowly suffocated him. This only proved to aggravate him more, as his interrogation was quickly derailing into vulgar insults and death threats.

  The other idols around them watched with pity and discomfort at the whole display. Some were even eased, being happier with their current score. Realising that it could always be so much worse.

  Being a part of the idol group, Yasu naturally also fell under the same scrutiny. However, he didn't mind what those brainwashed, easily controlled idiots thought.

  Everyone here was a puppet being pulled on the same string. Pointing fingers at anyone but the system itself who had created them. From a young age, he realised just how selfish humanity was. It's exactly why the Aliens felt so drawn to them, because even with their heightened intelligence, animalistic instinct still determined their behaviour.