Here, a teenage boy is lying on his bed.

His back aches, probably from being caned by the discipline teacher at school. Perhaps the teacher was bored of caning his hands, and now his back has become the target.

Every time he gets caned and called into the discipline room, his teacher always repeats the same line. Threatening much? Doesn't he have any other phrases?

"One more time you mess up, I’ll send a letter to expel you from school."

Expel him? Please. He has been mischievous since Form 3, and that’s the line he’s heard over and over. Yet, as you can read now, he’s still at the same school and in his final year—Form 5.

Bruk! The door to his room was slammed open. He didn’t bother turning his head; of course, he knew who dared to barge into his room without knocking.

"Stupid, Arsher!" Ash, the elder brother, yelled as he stormed in. Arsher’s ears rang from the volume of his shout.

Arsher turned to his brother. "What? I'm not that stupid."

Filled with rage, Ash grabbed Arsher by the collar, forcing him to stand upright.

"Your discipline teacher called me!" Ash said directly into Arsher’s face.

Arsher put on an innocent face. "So?"

"I want to ask, don’t you have anything better to do, huh?" Ash glared at Arsher.

Arsher shook off the grip. How was he supposed to answer when he felt like he was choking?

"Better to do what? I don’t even have a job. SPM’s ( Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia) not over yet," Arsher replied nonchalantly.

Ash was fuming now. His brother had the audacity to act clueless!

"Why did you spray graffiti on the grandstand wall? If you want to do art, join an art class, animals!" Ash tried to hold back his anger. If he screamed, the house might shake.

Arsher smacked his forehead. "Oh, is that why you came to my room?" he replied calmly.

"The grandstand is not a canvas, idiot! If it were beautiful, fine, but it looks like an unfinished science experiment!" Ash pulled out his phone and showed a picture of the graffiti Arsher had painted.

The funniest part? It was pink.

"How could it be finished? I was just starting when a prefect caught me," Arsher explained what had happened earlier.

Ash pocketed his phone. Why did the discipline teacher even bother calling him? A waste of credit. Ash was also a student at that school; they could have just met face-to-face.

"My teacher was absent earlier, so I went for a stroll. Somehow, I ended up at the grandstand. Pretty far, huh?" Arsher continued his story.

Ash sighed. "I don’t want to hear your pointless stories."

He was about to leave but was stopped by Arsher, who threw an arm around Ash’s shoulder, making them walk side by side.

"Just listen, Ash. When I got to the grandstand, I saw the wall was plain and lacked art," Arsher began walking, forcing Ash to walk along with him.

They descended the stairs, Arsher talking animatedly while Ash grew increasingly annoyed.

"Luckily, I had spray paint with me—pink, your favorite color, Ash," Arsher said with a sly grin. He loved teasing Ash about liking pink.

Ash grabbed Arsher’s collar again. This time, standing a step higher made it easier to scold him like a mom reprimanding her kid.

For the record, he was shorter than his younger brother.

"I don’t like pink, idiot," Ash stressed.

Arsher shook his head knowingly, deliberately riling Ash up. "If you don’t like it, I won’t force you. But admit it, pink is beautiful!"

Ash felt the urge to throw his brother into a ravine. Arsher always had something cheeky to say.

Arsher broke free and walked to the kitchen. Ash followed closely behind.

"Oh, hi, mom!" Arsher greeted his mother sweetly, as if nothing had happened earlier.

It was afternoon tea time, and she was busy preparing snacks.

Ashley looked at Arsher strangely. "I made brownies. Have some."

She slid the plate of brownies toward him. Arsher sat down and dug in.

Where’s Ash, you ask?

"Ash, oh Ash!" Arsher called out. Odd, he was just behind him. Now, gone?

"What?" Ash appeared from the living room, where he had planned to watch TV.

Arsher lifted the plate of brownies. "Want some? They’re good."

"Sure. Move your leg; I want to sit," Ash said, rolling his eyes and nudging Arsher’s leg.

"Ow! What does my leg have to do with anything?" Arsher complained.

"It’s in my way," Ash replied flatly, earning a glare from Arsher.

"Stop bickering over food. Oh, by the way, I read in the school WhatsApp group that tomorrow there’s a selection for the badminton team manager," Ashley said, showing her phone.

Since when did she have her phone?

Arsher read the message carefully. "Ash, are you going?"

Ash shrugged, biting into a brownie. "I don’t know. If you go, I’ll go."

Arsher pondered for a moment. "I’ll go. It’s not hard, right? Just answer questions, and they’ll pick someone."

"If that’s the case, I’ll go too," Ash agreed, nodding to himself.

Ashley sipped her tea. "By the way, Dad called. He’ll be home late tonight."

"What time?" Ash asked, noticing Arsher looking sleepy.

"Around 11," Ashley replied.

Ash patted Arsher’s shoulder. "Hey, sleepy?"

Arsher flinched at Ash’s touch, rubbing his eyes slowly.

"I wanted to sleep earlier, but you barged into my room without knocking and started yelling like someone who lost their wife. Calling me stupid and an animal," Arsher blurted out without thinking.

Ash gulped. Ashley’s sharp gaze turned to him. Oh no! Why did Arsher have to spill the beans?

Ashley placed a firm hand on Arsher’s shoulder. "Is that true, Arsher?"

"Yeah, but Arsher sprayed graffiti on the grandstand’s wa-" Arsher covered his mouth. Whoops! Now he had spilled too!

Ashley looked between her two sons. These two troublemakers never ceased to amaze her.

"I have to punish you. Push-ups, 50 times. No arguments!" Ashley banged the table.

Both Arsher and Ash jumped in surprise. Uh oh, their mother’s lioness side had awakened!

"Mom, please don’t tell Dad about this. Arsher doesn’t want to transfer schools to Italy!"

The aching shoulder was gently massaged. Ouch, his limbs were almost falling apart after doing 100 push-ups!

Why 100 all of a sudden? Easy—Ashley told everything to her husband, Aiden, who then scolded the brothers and increased their punishment.

"Are you going to the manager selection?" Ash, who had been quiet, finally spoke.

Arsher shook his head slowly. "No. I’m not interested, my shoulder feels like it’s going to fall off when I woke up this morning."

"In that case, I’ll go alone," Ash said, patting Arsher’s shoulder.

Arsher almost screamed. His shoulder was already sore, and Ash casually put his hand there?

He brushed Ash’s hand away. "It hurts, you idiot."

"Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to," Ash said with an innocent smile.

"You’re strange. Don’t you feel anything? Doesn’t your shoulder hurt?" Arsher pressed Ash’s shoulder slightly. Strangely, his brother didn’t flinch in pain...

Ash smiled again. "Mom massaged my shoulder last night. She wanted to do yours too, but it was late, and you were already asleep, I think."

"What time did Mom massage you?" Arsher was getting annoyed now. Why was Ashley so eager to massage Ash but didn’t come to him?

"Around eight, maybe. By eight-thirty, she was done with me. It’s great; I don’t feel much pain this morning."

Arsher’s eyes widened. "I wasn’t asleep yet at that time."

How could he sleep with the pain in his shoulder? Even slight movements were excruciating.

"Then what time did you go to bed?" Ash frowned.

"Not sure, maybe around eleven."

...----------------...

His eyes scanned the ten students before him. The style was there, entering this room as if they owned the place.

"Confident you can handle this interview? It’s not just one or two people to evaluate," asked Mr. Charlie to his ten students.

Amanda, the boldest of them all, nodded quickly. "Of course, that should be easy. Piece of cake."

"In that case, I’ll hand out some paper and pens. You might need them," Mr. Charlie said, distributing the items one by one.

"Sir, why don’t we start the interview now? I see there’s a long queue outside," David suggested, peeking outside.

It was packed, like a sea of people trying their luck to become the manager of the school’s badminton team.

Mr. Charlie nodded, switched on the microphone, and brought it closer to his mouth.

"To those participating in the badminton team manager selection interview, please line up and take your number."

...----------------...

Finally! After waiting until his legs went numb from standing too long, Ash’s number was called.

“Number 80!” shouted Amanda, startling Ash.

Arsher patted his brother’s shoulder. "Go on, it’s your turn."

Why was Arsher there, you ask? He wasn’t part of the interview but came as a spectator to kill time.

No one dared to scold this particular boy.

"Wish me luck," Ash said as he walked to the interview table.

Arsher, who had been standing there for half an hour, simply muttered softly. He was already getting sleepy.

Why did a manager selection require an interview anyway? It felt like applying for a job. Arsher saw Ash holding several sheets of paper earlier—apparently, his resume.

Luckily, he wasn’t alone. He had Ethan, the son of his father’s employee, for company. It made waiting a bit less dull.

"Arsher, I think those badminton kids are stressed out. Look at their faces, all frowning," Ethan pointed toward the interviewers.

Arsher followed Ethan’s gaze. "Who do you think will be the team manager? Seems like no one fits the bill so far."

Ethan shrugged. "No idea. You know how picky those badminton girls can be. Even the qualified ones could end up being rejected."

Arsher nodded in agreement. Ethan was right. Those kids really had high standards. That’s probably why Arsher was still single now.

He couldn’t understand girls’ tastes when choosing something. For him, quality was more important than appearance.

"I’m heading to the canteen. Wanna come?" Ethan asked.

Arsher shook his head. "No. I’m going to the basketball club room. I have to clean it today."

"In that case, let’s go together. The canteen and club room are on the same route," Ethan said.

"Let’s go." Arsher put his arm around Ethan shoulder so they could walk together. Forget about his sore shoulder—he had to look cool.

Outside the badminton club room, Arsher and Ethan bumped into Kayla, one of Ash’s classmates.

"Hey, Kayla! " Arsher greeted with a smile.

Kayla returned the smile, even sweeter. "Hi, Arsher."

"Kayla, where are you off to? And why are you carrying bowls and plates?" Arsher asked, eyeing the items she was holding.

"Oh, we’re going to use them. Just a fun little project," Kayla replied.

"Oh, I see. I’ll get going now, Kayla. Bye!" Arsher waved, and Kayla waved back.

Walking ahead with Ethan following, Ethan tapped Arsher’s shoulder. He seemed to have something to ask.

"What?" Arsher frowned. Why the shoulder-tapping again? His shoulder was already sore.

With a mysterious smile, Ethan asked, "Is there something going on between you and Kayla?"

Arsher raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by ‘something’? I don’t get it."

"Ugh... Do you have a special relationship with Kayla? You were smiling at her just now," Ethan sighed.

If not for the people passing nearby, Arsher would have hung Ethan from a ceiling fan by now.

"Us? No way. I just run into Kayla more often than Ash. Is it wrong to smile at her?" Arsher said, holding Ethan's shoulder.

Ethan nodded. "Oh... I thought you two had a special relationship."

Arsher smirked, suddenly recalling a secret about Ethan that he had kept hidden.

"I know you like Kayla, Ethan."

Ethan covered Arsher’s mouth. "Don’t say it so loud! Someone might hear."

Arsher removed the hand covering his mouth. What if he suffocated from lack of oxygen? The story would end in two chapters.

"The damage is done. I’ve already said it."

Aiden carried a tray with four cups of tea. Since he was off today, he had to prepare afternoon tea for the family.

Arsher, who was lying on his stomach while playing on his phone, made Aiden shake his head.

"Arsher, sit properly, will you? And stop grinning like a monkey," Aiden said, giving him a sharp look.

Arsher smirked and sat up straight. He slipped his phone into his pocket.

"Poor you. Handsome but your own dad calls you a monkey," Ash, sitting beside Arsher, shook his head in mock pity.

Arsher glared sharply at him. "Shut up!"

"You two are always fighting," Ashley interrupted. "Here, have some garlic bread I made." She placed the container of garlic bread on the table.

Ash looked at her suspiciously. "What dream did you have that made you cook garlic bread? Isn't this something you're not good at making?"

"I called grandma earlier to get the recipe," Arsher answered for her.

"Speaking of grandma, the last time we saw her was three years ago, right? How's she doing? Is she well?" Ash asked.

It had been a while since they last saw Ashley's mother. Their grandmother lived in Italy with their grandfather.

"She's fine. Currently vacationing in France with grandfather since last week," Arsher replied, taking a piece of garlic bread.

"Wow, that’s a long vacation. Is it a vacation or a honeymoon?" Ashley asked while sipping her tea. Her mom going on holiday without informing them—classic.

"Healing," Arsher answered curtly.

Ash looked around. Where was their dad? He was just here, calling Arsher a monkey earlier.

"Where’s Dad, Mom?"

Ashley pointed to Aiden, who was sitting on the sofa. "He’s playing with Mochi."

Arsher facepalmed. "Dad, can’t the cat wait? Come and eat first."

Aiden, happily stroking the orange-and-white cat’s fur, shook his head.

"Go ahead and eat. I haven’t seen Mochi for a week. This cat missed me too, didn’t you?" Aiden said while scratching Mochi’s head.

"Meow~~~" Mochi purred, as if answering its owner.

Aiden loved cats, but they only had one because Ashley didn’t allow them to have too many. Even getting Mochi was only because of Arsher’s persistent requests.

"Umm, Ash. What happened with the manager selection? Did you get it?" Arsher asked, biting into a piece of garlic bread.

Ash snapped his fingers. "Guess what, Arsher."

Arsher raised an eyebrow. "What? You didn’t get it? No luck, huh?"

"They’ll announce who gets appointed as the manager in two weeks," Ash replied, sounding resigned.

"Huh? Why two weeks? That’s a long time," Ashley interjected.

"Because next week is a holiday, Mom," Ash explained and then reached into Arsher’s pocket to grab his phone.

"Oh," Ashley said, dragging the word out. She was the type who couldn’t even keep track of the dates, let alone holidays.

Arsher looked at Ash. "What are you doing with my phone?"

"I want to play Candy Crush. What level are you at? 300, right?" Ash scratched his head.

"I’ve never played that game, Ash. How would I know what level it’s at?" Arsher grumbled, continuing to chew his food.

Not that he’d downloaded the game—it was Ash who had sneakily messed with his phone.

Candy Crush, he could still tolerate.

But changing his wallpaper to a photo of a chicken—an actual live chicken—last week? That was too much.

They sat in a circle, waiting for Amanda to appear. They had come to her house specifically to discuss the appointment of the school’s badminton club manager.

"This girl, seriously. Knowing how hot it is today, she still insists we meet outside in her yard," Velvet rolled her eyes.

Rayn chuckled. "It’s Amanda we’re talking about. No way she’d let us inside her house."

Felix and Alan exchanged glances. "Where is Amanda? She said 4 PM, and it’s already 4:05. Typical of her, never on time," Alan said, crossing his arms.

Right then, Amanda appeared with some papers in her hands. "I’ve read through all the resumes of the candidates you suggested."

She sat next to Camilia, while the nine other pairs of eyes stared at her intently.

"Have you decided who’s suitable to be our manager?" Ehsan asked, brushing his hair back.

"Yes," Amanda replied, curt and simple.

"Wait, I want to hear too!" A voice came from behind. Everyone turned to see who it was.

Kevin, Amanda’s younger brother, showed up with two jars of chocolate cookies.

"You’re so nosy," Amanda muttered, snatching one jar from his hands.

Kevin huffed. "Whatever, I have the right to know too."

The Form 2 boy sat beside David and offered him the other jar of cookies.

"Oh, thanks," David said, accepting it.

"So, who did you choose?" Felicia asked, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

"I’ll give you a clue," Amanda said with a sly smile.

Felix groaned. "Clues? Just tell us already! I hope you didn’t pick the wrong person."

"First clue: he’s not from the premier class," Amanda said, pausing dramatically to create suspense.

Kevin furrowed his brow. "What? Did you choose someone from the special education program as your manager?"

"Relax, it’s just the first clue. Be patient," Amanda said, shooting him a sharp look.

"Second clue: his younger sibling is in the same batch as me," she added, pointing to herself.

Rayn scratched his head. "That’s the most useless clue ever."

"Third clue: he’s a guy," she revealed, shocking everyone.

"What? No way!" Riana exclaimed.

David made an "X" sign with his arms, while Alan and Felix groaned in unison. Rayn facepalmed, while Evan and Velvet were left speechless. Only Camilia shook her head, and Felicia showed no reaction.

"If she weren’t my sister, I’d have thrown her into the ocean by now," Kevin muttered while munching on a cookie.

"Shut up. Now, I want all of you to guess who our manager is," Amanda said, her sweet smile betraying her mischief.

While the others remained stunned, Kevin spoke up. "If you guys won’t, I will. Let me guess."

"He’s a guy and not from the premier class. Does that mean someone from Form 6?" Kevin asked, popping a cookie into his mouth.

Amanda nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"His younger sibling is in your batch. There are three Form 5 students with older brothers in Form 6—two girls and one guy," Kevin continued, sounding like a pro.

"Is his sibling a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"A boy," Amanda replied after a moment’s thought.

Kevin snapped his fingers. "Guys, I know who your new manager is."

The nine others turned to Kevin. "Who?" they all asked in unison.

"Ash Daniz Vionzi, Arsher’s brother."

"Mini Prince?!"

Mini Prince—the nickname for Ash because he was slightly smaller than his younger brother, Arsher.