The Duke's youngest son is so Unbearable

So, you're probably wondering how I died.

I'd love to say it was something noble, like saving a bus full of children, or maybe something badass, like fighting off a gang of ninjas.

But nope.

My death was about as random and stupid as life itself.

And, weirdly, it all started that day when I had a fight with Sam.

Now, imagine the human equivalent of an overinflated balloon animal: all puffed-up ego, no substance, and somehow loud enough to fill every room he entered.

That was Sam.

He was the self-appointed king of the high school social ladder, leading his clique of wannabes like some budget cult leader.

I was just heading to class, minding my own business, when his voice sliced through the crowd.

"Hey, Asian demon!"

Ah, yes. One of the many nicknames I'd collected like Pokémon cards. This one was a particular favorite of the dimwits who thought pointing out my ethnicity was a revolutionary concept.

I turned toward the sound, already feeling my patience slipping away.

"What is it, Sam?"

Sam stood there with that stupid smirk, the kind that made you want to immediately punch it off his face.

"You're from Asia, right?"

"No, Sam," I said, deadpan. "I'm from Mars. This is just a really convincing human disguise."

He blinked, clearly not picking up on the sarcasm.

"Right, so I heard something about Asians. Is it true…" He paused dramatically, soaking up the attention of his audience like he was delivering Shakespeare. "...that Asians have small dicks?"

The hallway erupted into laughter, a wave of snickering and whispering as Sam basked in his moment of perceived glory.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his idiocy pressing down on my soul. Did I have to engage? No. Should I have walked away? Absolutely.

But then I saw the smug look on his face, like he'd just won an Olympic gold medal in stupidity, and I knew I couldn't let this slide.

"Hmm." I tilted my head, pretending to think. "You know, I never really thought about it. But wait—I've got an idea!"

Sam leaned in slightly, eager for whatever punchline he thought was coming.

"Why don't you ask your mom?" I said with a straight face. "She seemed pretty satisfied last night, so she might have some... insight."

You could hear a pin drop.

The laughter died instantly as everyone tried to process what I'd just said.

Then, like a tidal wave, the hallway exploded. People were howling, clutching their stomachs, doubling over like they'd just heard the funniest joke in human history.

Sam's smirk vanished faster than his dignity.

His face turned an alarming shade of red, and his jaw worked up and down like a fish out of water.

"What the hell did you just say?"

I shrugged, feigning innocence. "What? You didn't hear me? I said you could ask your mom. She's got firsthand knowledge. Or do you just have a thing for people talking about her private life?"

The laughter reached new heights. Someone in the back literally fell to the floor. A girl was wheezing so hard I thought she might pass out.

Sam, however, looked like he was seconds away from a full-on aneurysm.

"You're dead," he growled, storming toward me with murder in his eyes.

I sighed, glancing at my watch. "And here I thought I was gonna have a quiet day."

Before Sam could get within punching distance, I pulled out my secret weapon: sheer, unrelenting chaos.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!" I screamed, flailing my arms like I was being attacked by a swarm of bees.

Sam froze, completely caught off guard.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"PRINCIPAL! TEACHER! SECURITY!" I kept screaming at the top of my lungs, pointing at Sam like he was a serial killer.

Sam looked around in panic as the crowd stared, unsure whether to laugh or intervene.

"Dude, I didn't even touch you!" he yelled.

I kept screaming. Louder.

Desperate to shut me up, Sam clamped his hand over my mouth.

Big mistake.

I bit down.

Hard.

Sam howled in pain, yanking his hand back like I was a rabid animal.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!"

His friends tried to step in, but I wasn't done yet.

"HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" I shouted, pointing dramatically at Sam like I was in a courtroom drama.

And right on cue, a teacher appeared, barreling through the crowd with the kind of energy only a highly caffeinated adult dealing with hormonal teenagers could muster.

---

Ten minutes later, in the principal's office.

Mark Hamilton, our long-suffering principal, sat at his desk with the expression of a man who deeply regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.

Sam and I sat across from him: Sam fuming, me casually examining my nails like this was just another Tuesday.

"Do you two have any idea what time it is?" the principal asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"8:40 AM," I said brightly.

"Shut up," he snapped, glaring at me.

He rubbed his temples, muttering something under his breath about retirement. Then, with a long sigh, he gestured at Sam.

"Alright, you first. What happened?"

Sam launched into a dramatic retelling, complete with hand gestures and an overly victimized tone.

"I was just hanging out with my friends when this psycho started insulting my mom and bit me!"

The principal raised an eyebrow, then turned to me.

"And you?"

I put on my best tragic hero expression, complete with big, teary eyes.

"He called me racial slurs. Said I had a small… you know." I looked away, voice trembling. "Then he tried to silence me by putting his hand on my mouth. I think that qualifies as sexual harassment."

The principal blinked, clearly questioning every life choice he'd ever made.

---

In the end, we both got detention.

But as I walked out of the office, I couldn't help but smile.

Sure, I'd lost two hours of my life. But Sam? Sam had lost something far more valuable.

His reputation.