Hadson roamed aimlessly two years after Reagan Owen Academy sent him a rejection letter. He didn’t care whether Major Leomord was home or not; he wandered wherever he pleased, free to roam the streets and forests as if the world were his personal playground.
Commodore began his mischievous habits by disturbing his neighbors' mornings, unleashing his destructive energy by punching holes in their houses. Like the ringing of a bell, his name echoed through every alley and corner. Everyone knew when Commodore was around—it was impossible to ignore the chaos he caused.
“Commodore, come home,” his mother, Lenora, begged in desperation, chasing after him. “When in the blazes did this all begin? How did my son become so lost and miserable?”
But Commodore sneered, defiance flashing in his eyes. “Miserable? Ha! I am not miserable, Mother—I’ve escaped a miserable life. I’m free—free from risking my life on meaningless rules. I’m not going home, and you can’t make me.”
In the dense foliage of the forest stood an old family friend, Mr. Keyton. Moving closer to Lenora, he spoke in a stern, censorious voice:
“What’s going on here, Lenora? What are you letting him do?”
Lenora cast her eyes downward, giving no answer. Mr. Keyton shook his head in sorrow.
“Commodore, you’ve complicated everything for everybody. Look at Hearst—he’s the same age as you, yet respectful and responsible as could be.”
Under his breath, Commodore chuckled. The mask covering his face hid his grin.
“Hearst, eh? And yet here you are, lecturing me. Meanwhile, Mr. Darn Nero—now there's someone worthwhile. He’s leagues ahead of you—an excellent professor who could teach at Reagan Owen Academy. He’s far more valuable than you, Sir Keyton.”
His sarcastic laughter echoed throughout the woods, bouncing off the trees.
“You’re just a boy, Commodore—a foolish, reckless boy!” Mr. Keyton’s face flushed with frustration.
“And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t compare anyone, Sir Keyton. Or someone might compare you—with all your wisdom and dignity—to a bald-headed fool.”
Keyton’s hand snapped up, but before he could strike, Commodore darted away.
“Your son is the most unbelievable child I’ve ever encountered!” Mr. Keyton shouted at Lenora, who could only watch as her son disappeared into the trees.
Lenora sighed and slumped into her chair, eyes cast down. “Life is inevitable, Mr. Keyton,” she said with resignation. “Whatever he becomes, he’ll always be my son. Even if he burns the whole village down searching for happiness, he’ll still be my son.”
“He’s not selfish,” said Don Derwent Spike, passing by on horseback, accompanied by soldiers. “He’s just restless. He’s homeless and lost—wandering through the streets, sleeping in trees, or squatting in the market—all for something he’ll never find.”
Lenora said no more as she entered her car. She had come to bring her son home, but knowing she had no hold on him weighed heavily on her heart.
“I feel so helpless,” she murmured, letting out a bitter sigh.
Some days later, Commodore found his way to Major Leomord’s home by the lakeside, where his grandfather sat fishing. Major Leomord didn’t bother to turn his head or speak a word. Commodore sat beside him and stared at the rippling waves.
“They’ve accused me again, Granfa,” Commodore said with a grin. “They call me all sorts of things—tyrant, troublemaker. But one day, they’ll understand—I promise you, they’ll understand my tyranny.”
The clear blue sky made Commodore smile under his mask. He wanted to remove it so his grandfather could see that, for a nine-year-old boy, he was doing just fine after all.
COMMODORE HADSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Forgiveness is a battle I always lose—something outside of myself. It’s easy to give, easy to receive—never. How did everything turn out this way? Goals help me atone for my sins, but it’s never enough. I’ve spent years convincing myself I’m nothing more than a simpleton, unable to compete with the brilliance of others. It’s not sorrow—it’s like wielding a sword covered in rust, heavy and dull.
I dream of gaining power again. Is it so wrong to ask for help? I wish I had passionate curiosity like Einstein, but I’ve always been too lazy to pursue it. Every conversation, every argument lives in my mind. She didn’t even believe me when I said I was tired of being a fractured piece in this world.
I want to be like a lion—standing tall under the moonlight, delivering speeches to those around me. But no one sees that side of me. They see me as just a foolish child, without parents to pull me from the storm I’m drowning in.
Night is the worst. I know I need sleep, yet I fight against it as if it’s my drug—my dopamine high. I crave some kind of absolution, some ecstasy to calm the storm in my mind. The television’s noise rubs shoulders with my thoughts, offering only futile distraction from the weight of my sadness. I don’t want to be happy—I just don’t know why I feel this way.
Poverty crushes me. There’s no solution—just the burden threatening to consume me. My plans shatter like broken glass. Life without challenges, without something to prove my existence, is meaningless. People go mad when they discover the trouble I cause.
The sky is grey, cloudless but heavy, and I know it will never rain. Something festers inside me, but I push it aside. I invite my brother to join me in an experiment with a detonator. I want to see something explode—just for the thrill of revenge.
But my brother catches my sleeve and asks me to play with him.
“How can I play with you if my experiment fails?” I ask, only half-serious.
His eyes plead with me, soft and sincere. Should I surrender? Should I give him my time?
“Whether you win or lose, I’ll always be your brother. I know people are mean to you because of your face, but to me, you’re the most protective brother I’ve ever had. No one can beat you—not because you’re perfect, but because you have the strength and resilience to keep going.”
He smiles—a smile I don’t quite understand.
The next day, Mr. Kinsley told me strange things were happening at Reagan Owen Academy. As a shareholder, he was shaken by the news. But soon, like everything else, the panic subsided.
I sat in the garden, watching gossiping women whisper about me. I hated the garden—there was no peace there, only prying eyes waiting for me to reveal my face.
“Did you hear?” Lady Serene asked with disdain. “Aside from you, there’s another troublemaker at ROA. But he doesn’t wear a mask.”
“Oh, really?” I stood at my full height. “I didn’t know you came here just to remind me of how scary I am. So, why are you still here?”
“Because our parents made a deal,” she spat. “But let me be clear—I will NEVER marry someone like you!” She shoved me, her hands trembling with rage.
That night, I confronted my father about the deal. He sat at his desk, not even looking up.
“I’ve arranged for you to marry Lady Serene Ivans,” he said flatly. “Her family is respectable, and you deserve her.”
“You shouldn’t decide my life for me,” I said coldly.
“It’s not your life,” he replied without missing a beat. “It’s a wasted life.”