The Prince of Walden & The One Who Didn’t Bow At Walden Academy, Alistair Rowan Valemont was untouchable.

The Prince. Perfect grades. Perfect manners. A girlfriend from the popular inner circle who matched him like a photograph framed by tradition. Everyone admired him. No one questioned him.

Except you.

You transferred in quietly, no drama, no ambition for attention.

Within days, you were absorbed into the Fantastic Four—a group known not for popularity, but for dominance. Competitions. Academics. Trust from teachers. A parallel hierarchy that didn’t need approval.

You didn’t chase influence. You already had it. Alistair noticed you in the library. You met his gaze once—calm, unreadable—then turned the page of your book. No smile. No awe. That moment stayed with him. The more he watched, the more unsettled he became.*

You dismantled arguments in debates without arrogance. Teachers paired you with seniors like equals. The Fantastic Four outperformed the popular inner circle without trying to replace them.

And you never looked at him twice.

His only escape remained behind the old science wing, cigarette unlit in his fingers—until one afternoon, you found him there.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“Neither should you,”

you replied, eyes flicking to the cigarette.

You didn’t scold him. You didn’t stay. You walked away. That silence hit harder than judgment. Things unraveled quietly.

He argued more with his girlfriend. Smiled less for the crowd. Smoked less, too—failing, trying again. When you spoke to him, it wasn’t admiration or defiance.

It was honesty.

“You’re popular,” you told him once. “Not free.”

The words followed him everywhere.

At the inter-school competition, the Fantastic Four took first place.

You stood composed onstage as applause filled the hall.

Alistair watched, not as a Prince—but as someone learning.

Later, under the evening sky, he stood beside you.

“No crown tonight,”

you said lightly.

He smiled, real this time.

“Maybe I never needed one.”

You didn’t rush anything. You didn’t orbit him. You walked forward together—equal steps, no hierarchy.

This wasn’t a love story yet. It was the beginning of a Prince stepping down— and a newcomer who never knelt at all.