Eastmere, nightfall.

Most students had already left campus. The street outside Eastmere High School was quiet, a few stragglers hurrying home. But in a narrow alley not far from the school, five rough-looking punks had boxed in a lone teenage boy.

"Hey, kid," the one in front sneered, "we're a little short. Hand over some money, yeah?"

In his uniform, Ethan Woods looked like your everyday bookworm—plain face, quiet type, the sort you thought wouldn't resist even if you slapped him.

But Ethan wasn't trembling. He looked at the five thugs with a cold stare, spat out one word: "Scram."

The punks froze. "Huh?"

"I said—scram," Ethan snapped, eyes full of disdain. He wasn't begging, wasn't scared. He was done with today, and it showed.

The leader's smile faded. He stepped forward, voice low and hard, "Cut the crap. We don't have time to waste on you. Empty your pockets."

Ethan didn't say anything more. Instead, he clenched his fist and swung—fast and mean. The punch landed straight on the leader's nose. Blood spurted out, the thug howled.

"You're not even good at being bad!" Ethan shouted. High on adrenaline, he tried to land a few more hits, pouring out all the frustration in his chest.

But five against one? That only ends one way. The punks swarmed him, fists and kicks raining down. In seconds, the alley echoed with curses and grunts, until finally, it fell quiet once more.

The gang walked off laughing, leaving Ethan curled on the ground.

Takes effort just to stand.

Holding his side, he limped out of the alley, pain carving into every step. His teeth clenched tight. Muttering curses under his breath: "What kind of rotten day is this... Rejected by Lisa, then jumped in an alley. Someone's setting me up, I swear it."

He could still hear her voice in his head, sharp and cold: "You? A toad dreaming of swan meat?"

That cut deep.

It took all the guts he had to confess to Lisa Monroe—his longtime crush. She didn't even flinch before crushing his hopes like a bug.

For a second, lying there in the alley, Ethan really considered going out like some tragic hero. Maybe smother himself in her arms and call it a day.

Yeah right.

Swan meat? Toads eat whatever they can catch. Period.

Nothing but bad luck today. Might as well carry a fortune calendar around. Worse than stepping in dung.

And those punks... he couldn't forget the cold glare someone shot him in class earlier. Mean and deliberate.

If this whole thing wasn't a setup, he'd eat his shoes.The only thing Ethan could be glad about was that he'd spent all his silver on roses today. At least those thugs didn't get a single coin off him—though those roses were tossed straight into the garbage by Lisa without hesitation.

Thinking of Lisa made Ethan grit his teeth again. Was he really doomed to be a loser forever?

Damn it, even losers have their day!

But him? A loser all his life. Never held a girl's hand, not even once. His pathetic life was almost insulting.

Ethan felt like roaring at the sky. Rejected by his crush, then beat up the moment he left school—it was a miserable pile-up of crap. He stumbled onto the bus, slumped into a seat, and shut his eyes. All he wanted was sleep.

He'd wasted some time getting beaten, so the rush hour had passed. The bus wasn't packed like usual, just enough people to fill the seats. Way better than the usual crush.

A group of middle-aged women were chatting away noisily nearby, gossiping about who wore what, which makeup they used, how much they lost playing mahjong. Just a few of them, yet they managed to turn the whole quiet bus into a noisy henhouse.

A few stops in, a sharp screech suddenly blasted through Ethan's half-sleeping mind like thunder.

"My ring! My ring is gone! That was a family heirloom!"

Family heirloom? More like market junk, Ethan thought with a snort, turning his head to go back to his nap.

But that woman wasn't letting it go. She kept yelling through the bus.

"Who the hell took my ring?! Curse them to hell!"

The other women around her tried to calm her down.

"Maybe you left it at home?"

"Yeah, there aren't many people on board, no one's bold enough to yank a ring off your neck without you noticing, right?"

"Just check again when you get home."

Their words started to confuse the woman too. She scratched her head and muttered, "Could I really have forgotten it?"

The ruckus died down soon after. Once it looked like there were no thieves, the nervous passengers let out their breath.

But Ethan suddenly felt something off on his hand. He cracked open one eye.

And instantly bolted upright, nearly jumping off the seat.

A ring had appeared on his index finger—ancient-looking, bronze-colored, covered in strange carvings he couldn't recognize. Not exactly ugly, but far from pretty.

Panic hit him. He was sure his hand was bare before his nap. Now, out of nowhere, this damn ring?

What if the woman caught sight of it?

His first instinct was to yank it off and toss it as far away as he could. Today was already crap—if he got accused of stealing too, he might as well ram his head into a wall and end it.

If there ever was a time to say "misfortune never comes alone," this was it.

That stupid ring wouldn't come off. The harder he pulled, the tighter it clamped down, to the point it felt like it was gonna snap his finger. He couldn't help but yelp. Sweat poured from his forehead as he shook his hand wildly, trying to fling the ring away.