Ethan woke to the dull gray light of January seeping through the cracks in his blinds, the kind of morning that promised nothing but cold and confrontation. His body felt like a weapon now—muscles coiled tight from the system's upgrades, every flex a reminder of the power he'd bought with Jane's submission.
He lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, replaying the alley: Marcus's bones cracking under his fists, the blood pooling yellow under the lamp.
The fear in those eyes.
It fueled him, making him feel this new mysterious rush of energy, which he had never expected before.
Today, the school would feel it.
Marcus wouldn't dare show his face, not with that mangled mug and shattered pride.
Ethan rolled out of bed and stretched, feeling the pull in his broader back and the thickness in his thighs. He dressed quickly—black hoodie zipped halfway to show the chest underneath, jeans hugging his new build, boots for the crunch on frozen grass.
Downstairs, he heard his parents: Richard's low rumble about work and Vanessa's soft replies laced with guilt. He slipped out the back door without a sound, the cold air hitting his face like a slap.
The walk to school was routine, but today it felt different—each step heavier, more purposeful. The neighborhood was quiet, with houses with frost on the lawns and minivans idling as parents dropped off kids.
Ethan kept his hood up, mind on the plan.
Tabu in the afternoon. Push the seduction and break her resistance.
And if Marcus's crew whispered?
Let them.
Fear was his ally now.
He reached Westview High just as the first bell echoed across the lot, buses disgorging kids in puffy coats, backpacks slung low.
The gates were open, security guard nodding at familiar faces, but when Ethan passed, the guy did a double-take.
"Harper? That you?"
Ethan ignored him, pushing through.
The hallways were chaos, lockers slamming, shouts bouncing off cinderblock walls, and the smell of cheap body spray and breakfast burritos.
But as he walked, something shifted.
Heads turned.
Whispers started like a wave.
"Holy shit, is that Ethan?"
"Dude looks jacked—what the fuck?"
"Heard he beat Marcus's ass last night."
Everybody was shocked. It was absurd for them to hear the rumor and even more unbelievable what they were seeing. Most of them don't even remember what Ethan looked like.
So, most of them were shocked to see his athletic body, underneath his clothes, which was somehow hidden from everybody till now, or they thought.
Girls who never glanced his way now stared openly, eyes wide with curiosity. Guys who'd shoved him yesterday parted like the Red Sea, no taunts, no bumps.
The air hummed with it—the sudden power vacuum where Marcus used to rule. Ethan felt it like electricity on his skin, the way the crowd eyed his broader shoulders, the way his arms filled the sleeves.
No one came in his way.
Marcus was absent, his crew scattered; rumors said they were nursing broken bones at home. The school buzzed: "Marcus got jumped bad."
"Nah, it was Harper, one on five."
Shock rippled through every conversation, every glance.
Ethan kept his face blank, but inside, he savored it. This was what strength bought.
First period English: Mrs. Reynolds at the board, droning about Hamlet. Ethan slid into his seat, the desk feeling smaller against his frame.
Marcus's chair sat empty, a ghost in the room.
The class whispered about it.
"Where's Tate?"
"Heard his face is fucked."
Ethan caught more stares, shock turning to awe from some, fear from others.
You'd be surprised how easily youngsters can erase someone from the world without ever lifting a hand. Ethan had learned that lesson early. In crowded halls and noisy streets, he moved like a ghost—seen by no one, acknowledged by none. Conversations flowed around him, laughter passed through him, and eyes slid away as if he were made of thin air. To them, Ethan was not bullied, not mocked, and not even disliked. He was simply nothing.
But that was yesterday.
And today… today everything had changed.
The same faces that once looked through him now froze when he passed. Whispers died mid-sentence. Steps slowed. No one laughed. No one dared interrupt him or question his actions. It wasn't respect—no, it was something sharper, something colder. Shock. The kind that tightens the chest and makes the mind race for answers it cannot find.
Those who had seen Ethan a few times before—the ones who remembered the quiet boy with lowered eyes and hunched shoulders—stood stunned. This was not the same person. His posture had shifted, his presence heavier, as if he carried an unseen weight that bent the air around him. He didn't demand attention, yet it followed him like a shadow that refused to let go.
No one asked what had happened. No one challenged him.
Because deep down, they all felt it.
The invisible boy was gone.
And whatever Ethan had become overnight… it was impossible to ignore.
Then he felt it: the school queen, Ariana Voss, looking at him for the first time.
She sat two rows over, blonde hair cascading like gold, blue eyes sharp as knives.
Eighteen, senior royalty—perfect face with high cheekbones, full lips painted pink, skin flawless. Body that screamed sex: perky C-cups in a tight sweater, an ass that filled her jeans like poured denim, and long legs crossed under the desk.
She'd dated quarterbacks and ignored nobodies.
But today, her gaze locked on him for the first time ever. Shock in her eyes, then interest, biting her lip as she scanned his arms, his jaw.
Ethan met it, held it for a beat, then looked away. She kept glancing and fidgeting.
The queen had noticed the new king.
He attended class like always, but the energy was different. Answers sharp when called on, voice deeper, more commanding. Teachers noticed too. Mrs. Reynolds paused, eyes widening at his build.
"Ethan, you've... changed." He shrugged.
"Just growing up."
Second period math with Tabu: she stood at the board, curves hugged by her skirt, dark hair in a bun. Her eyes flicked to him more, that concern from yesterday lingering.
"Good to see you, Ethan." He nodded, mind on the afternoon.
Third period history: more whispers, more shock.
"He looks like a different person."
Ethan sat tall, owning the space. No one sat near him uninvited.
The morning flew, the school's shock a constant hum.
Lunch: the cafeteria a zoo, lines for food, tables packed, noise like a riot.
Ethan grabbed a tray: burger, fries, and water. Sat at his usual spot, back to the wall, scanning the room. Stares everywhere.
Then she came: Ariana, tray in hand, ditching her usual table with the cheer squad. Her girls trailed but hung back, giggling. She slid across from him, blonde hair flipping, blue eyes locked. "Mind if I join?"
Ethan looked up casually.
"Free country."
She smiled, perfect.
"I'm Ariana."
"I know."
Casual talk started: school bullshit, classes.
"English is boring as hell," she said, picking at her salad.
"Hamlet? Who cares?"
Ethan nodded.
"It's all revenge. I get that." She laughed lightly, leaning in. Talk turned interesting.
Why him? Why now?
"So," she said, voice dropping, "what's with the glow-up? I never noticed..."
He shrugged, biting his burger.
"Pretty girls won't look at weak boys, will they?"
Her eyes sparkled.
"Indeed."
"I like it. Everybody's talking. What happened? Steroids? Magic?"
"Something like that." He kept it vague but engaging—he asked about her.
"You run the school. Why talk to me?"
She twirled her hair, glancing around.
"Honestly? You've got everyone's attention now. Including mine."
She paused, then said straight out, "I'm only into men, not boys. The guys here? Kids. Whiny, immature. But you... you look like a man now. Like you could handle things.
Real things."
Ethan's pulse kicked, but he stayed cool.
"Things like what?"
She smiled slyly, her foot brushing his under the table. Accidental?
"Use your imagination. Strong guys turn me on. You... fit the bill."
They talked more: her exes (older guys from town) and why boys bored her
("They cum in two minutes and cry about feelings").
Ethan just nodded his way through. He could have just left, but it was fascinating to see the school queen begging for your attention.
She ate it up, laughing, touching his arm.
"Feel that. Solid."
By the time the bell rang, she slipped her number.
"Text me. We should... hang."
He pocketed it.
"Maybe."
Back to class: the afternoon dragged. Science lab—partners whispered about him.
"He's huge now."
He worked silent, mind on Tabu.
Last class was history again.