The Dragonborn of Raymonds High

“I’ve finally found you, my noble Dragonborn.”

Jones lifted his gaze from the grimy dishwashing sink and looked toward the handsome man in a black tailcoat.

“Dragonborn?”

He blinked in confusion. Yet the man—radiating an air of unmistakable nobility—suddenly dropped to one knee with a thud, utterly unfazed as dirty water and grease soaked into his trousers.

“I am Richard, your most humble servant,” the man said. “Because of my late arrival, you’ve suffered far too much. My sins are grave enough to send me straight to hell, but I beg for your forgiveness.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

Jones’s voice was hoarse from sleepless nights, and his unease made it tremble slightly. “I’m just an adopted orphan. I struggle to figure out how to eat every day. I’m only putting up with my boss’s abuse in this restaurant so I can save enough to buy my girlfriend a birthday gift.”

“No! You are Dragonborn. The blood in your veins is more noble than anyone’s! Even the president of the country is no more than an ant before you!” Richard declared with absolute conviction.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Jones muttered, eyeing the kneeling man with an odd expression. “I just want to buy my girlfriend a gift.”

He turned to leave.

“Master!” Richard shouted from the ground, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night. “You will understand soon! Your bloodline will never allow you to remain trapped in this mediocre life! I will wait for you—always!”

Jones didn’t look back. He only tightened his grip on the money in his pocket as his stomach growled loudly.

He patted it lightly.

“Hey, buddy, just hold it in. If I feed you tonight, I won’t be able to buy Catherine her gift.”

**********

The next night

Jones wore the best clothes he owned—a wrinkled white shirt and an old suit jacket that was a size too small.

He offered his arm to Katherine as they headed to the party.

He didn’t know it yet, but tonight would become the darkest night of his life.

At the entrance, instead of greetings, he was met with cold ridicule.

“Hey! You broke idiot! You don’t belong at this party!”

A student wrinkled his nose as though Jones’s very existence disgusted him.

“Yeah! Did you really think good grades would get you out of the slums? Dream on. Even if you graduate college, you’ll end up working for my family’s company. You’ll never be on our level.”

Jones clenched his fists.

Raymonds High was a private school—and it hated transfer students.

Especially poor ones who entered by merit.

He turned to leave, but Katherine grabbed his arm.

“Don’t ruin it, Jones,” she said softly. “It’s our anniversary. I have a surprise for you.”

He paused.

Strangely, the students at the door didn’t stop him.

Instead, they watched him with gloating anticipation.

Jones ignored them. Under the flashing lights, Katherine looked beautiful in her white dress.

“I have a surprise for you too,” he said with a warm smile.

He had worked three long months nights washing dishes just for this.

The expensive handbag she had always wanted waited quietly in his backpack.

“Surprise?” Katherine echoed, but didn’t comment further.

She led him to the center of the party.

Dozens of eyes followed them—some curious, some disgusted—but no one drove him out.

Jones drew a deep breath and opened the gift box.

“My love, I know you’ve always wanted this.”

But instead of joy, Katherine’s words crashed like thunder.

“Jones, let’s break up.”

“What?!”

He stared, stunned.

She had been the first person to reach out to him when everyone else shunned him—the one warm light in his frozen childhood.

“Why?” His voice trembled despite his efforts to stay composed.

“Why?”

She let out a small, cruel laugh.

“Because you’re poor. Poor to the bone. And people like you… will always stay poor. You don’t deserve me.”

Jones’s breath hitched.

Then Katherine turned, raising her voice for everyone to hear.

“Let me tell you what Jones’s life looks like.”She exaggerated every word, dripping with scorn.

“He lives in a storage closet, begs his adoptive parents for scraps, wears thrown-away clothes, and works himself half to death just to survive.”

“Boo—!”

The first jeer cut like ice.More followed, a tide of contempt crashing around him.

Students from wealthy families stared at him like a stain on their perfect world—mocking, disgusted.

Jones trembled. She was stripping him bare… exposing the parts of him he had hidden all his life. The parts only she had known.

“I trusted you,” he whispered. “I never thought you would be so cruel.”

“Cruel?”

Katherine laughed and kicked the handbag from his hands.It hit the floor with a dull thud.

“This cheap bag? You’re insulting me, you pathetic loser!”

Jones inhaled slowly, swallowing the rising fire in his chest.He picked up the bag and turned away.

He would not scream.

He would succeed—prove all of them wrong.

But someone stepped forward.

“You’re not leaving.”A voice—lazy yet dripping with arrogance—rose above the murmurs.

It came from a young man dressed in a finely tailored suit. His hair had been meticulously styled, every strand smoothed into perfect order, even the tips neat and disciplined. Surrounded by a circle of students, he walked out at an unhurried pace, his steps so steady and controlled they made no sound at all.

The party fell abruptly silent.

More than half the students instinctively lowered their posture, their eyes reflecting unmistakable respect. A few of the younger ones clenched the corners of their shirts, a flicker of fear crossing their faces. They unconsciously stepped back half a pace, even their breathing turning quieter.

“Henry.” Jones looked at the young man, his expression turning cold.

Henry was someone no one at Raymonds High School dared provoke. His reputation as the school tyrant was well established. Born into an aristocratic family—ranked third in the entire city, with several publicly traded companies under its name—his status was unshakable.

And of course, he was the one who bullied Jones the most.

“Darling.”

Catherine instantly nestled into Henry’s arms, clinging to him like a lazy cat begging for affection. Henry merely ran a hand along her curvy figure, his expression lofty as he issued his command to Jones.

“I heard you got the MIT admission offer,” he said coolly. “It doesn’t belong to you. And you’re not worthy of a school like that. I’m ordering you—give it up.”

At once, every student at the party turned their eyes toward Jones, waiting for him to kneel and surrender the offer, as if this blatant robbery were perfectly natural.

“I refuse,” Jones said—level, steady, unwavering.

“Refuse? You dare refuse me?”

A cruel curve lifted Henry’s lips. “Gutter rat… you’re asking for it.”

He patted Catherine’s backside and said, “Catherine, you’ve got something to tell everyone. And I think… now’s the perfect time.”

Catherine hooked an arm around Henry’s neck and kissed his cheek with a teasing smile, dragging her lips just a little when she pulled away. She spun around, her skirt sweeping lightly across the floor, then raised her voice:

“I’ve got an announcement—Jones is a thief! He’s been stealing your things and selling them for tuition!”

The moment the words dropped, it was like throwing a bomb into still water. Shocked gasps and angry whispers erupted.

“No wonder—my phone disappeared last week! My parents yelled at me for hours!”

“I knew it! My dad’s gift—the hat he bought me—gone! It must’ve been Jones!”

More and more students stepped forward, claiming missing items. And the obvious suspect—the poor kid who could barely afford meals—was Jones.

“Liar!”

“Thief!”

“Get out of our school, freak!”

The insults crashed over him like a wave.

Slander.

All of it was slander.

The torrent of misunderstanding, contempt, and suspicion surged toward Jones with crushing force. His breath came faster, chest rising sharply. He had never stolen anything—not even when hunger nearly drove him to collapse.

“I didn’t steal anything! Catherine, you’re lying!”

But Catherine merely let out a soft, mocking laugh as she stepped closer.

“Such flimsy denial. If I remember correctly… Henry’s two-hundred-thousand-dollar Patek Philippe is in your bag right now.”

Before Jones could react, one of Henry’s lackeys lunged forward, snatching his backpack.

The zipper screeched open—

A golden watch glimmered inside.

“That’s impossible…” Jones froze.

Henry clasped his hands together, his smile dripping malice.

“Freak. Still pretending? My watch is in your bag—that’s proof.”

Jones opened his mouth to defend himself—but fists rained down on him before he could speak. Students vented their fury on him, while Henry reclined arrogantly on a sofa, sipping champagne as he watched Jones get beaten.

In the midst of the pain, a strong hand forced its way through the chaos, dragging him free.

Jones saw a familiar face—Big Bob, the only friend he had at this school.

“Thank you… brother…” Jones gasped—

But Henry was already charging at them with a bat.

Thud!

The blow crashed into Bob’s head. He collapsed instantly.

“Annoying trash,” Henry sneered, spitting on Bob’s unconscious face. “This is what happens when you defy me.”

Rage ignited inside Jones like a wildfire. He lunged forward and drove a punch straight into Henry’s nose.

“You hit me? You’ll pay for that!”

Henry clutched his bleeding nose and roared, “Grab him! Take them both to the lake! Tonight, they’ll learn what real punishment is!”

Dozens of hands seized Jones, pinning his limbs. They dragged him to the lake and shoved him into the freezing water, holding him under until his lungs screamed.

“Pull him up!” Henry barked. “I want him awake for this.”

When Jones was yanked out, gasping, he saw Henry opening a box containing jars filled with spiders and cockroaches.

Henry laughed cruelly as he forced the spiders into Bob’s throat and shoved cockroaches into his ears.

Then he lifted a metal rod—and smashed Bob’s legs.

Bob woke from unconsciousness for a brief, agonizing moment before collapsing again.

“This is the price of resisting me, gutter rat!” Henry shouted at Jones in triumph.

Jones trembled with fury, but he wasn’t Batman or Spider-Man. Pinned down by a dozen people, he couldn’t move.

“Don’t worry,” Henry said, patting Jones’s cheek.

“I’ll deal with you next.”

He stepped on Jones’s knee—

And pressed down until the bone gave way.

White-hot pain stabbed through him, yet Jones still spat defiantly, “You’ll go to prison for this!”

“Prison?” Henry scoffed. “The police are my family’s friends. The judges too. Even the city’s gangs work under us. And you… you’re nothing. What can you possibly use to fight me?”

He pressed his foot to Jones’s chest, leaning down like a king forcing a peasant to kneel.

“Give up, you low-born nobody. Noble blood like mine is superior by birth. Even with good grades, you’re just a clown. You will never set foot in MIT.”

Jones’s breathing grew heavier; his blood felt like molten metal.

At that moment, someone handed Henry a syringe.

Henry grinned.

“This is a massive dose of a drug. Imagine the headlines: former top student—exposed as a thief—overdoses in shame. How’s that for an ending?”

Jones didn’t respond. Shadows crowded his vision as his body filled with scorching heat. Something strange—something powerful—was awakening inside him.

Seeing no reaction, Henry lost interest and moved to inject him—

But froze when a sudden pressure filled the air.

Jones slowly rose to his feet.

His golden eyes flashed with a savage glint.

Anyone who reached for him was knocked aside effortlessly.

In a blur, he grabbed Henry’s left arm—

And tore it out of joint with a violent pull.

“You… you monster!” Henry screamed, stumbling back before drawing a gun.

Bang!

The bullet struck Jones in the chest—but he didn’t fall.

He tackled Henry, then hoisted Bob onto his back and fled.

He didn’t know what was happening to him—only that he was burning up inside. He could already feel life slipping away. The bullet had pierced his heart. His time was limited.

Henry staggered to his feet, clutching his shattered arm.

The first time—

The first time anyone had ever hurt him so badly.

And that person…

was a boy from the slums.

Unforgivable.

“Useless trash!” Henry screamed at his lackeys. “All of you! Go after him!”

The sky cracked open with thunder as rain poured down.

Ice-cold droplets drenched Jones, but he felt no cold—only searing heat consuming him from within.

Eventually, he collapsed, unable to even lift his eyelids.

Then, faint footsteps approached.

A man in a black tailcoat, holding a black umbrella, appeared before him—

Richard.

“Master, do not worry,” Richard said softly. “For the sin of offending a Dragonborn, they will all repent in fire.”

He raised one hand; an icy blue glint flashed in his eyes.

Henry and his gang collapsed to the ground, bodies no longer obeying them.

Richard stepped on Henry’s chest, lifted Jones into his arms, and carried him toward a nearby Ferrari.

“Master, once you complete your Dragonblood Awakening… your revenge will be yours to take.”

He secured Jones inside and slammed the accelerator.

By the time Henry’s group regained control of their bodies and ran after them, the Ferrari was already kilometers away—nothing left but the echo of its engine.

Fueled by rage, Henry turned and kicked the unconscious Bob twice.

“You stupid idiot! Just wait until you get to the police station—I’ll make sure you regret everything!”

His furious shouts echoed through the street.

And waiting for Bob… was whatever cruelty Henry would unleash next.