The corridors of the school were humming with the loud voices of the students. Jensen walked along the wall at a measured pace, one hand clutching a small box of sweet mango juice. He took a few greedy sips with his lips around the plastic white tube and sniffed his stuffy nose. After this morning's run, which he never missed, his nose was itchy and snotty. Still, it was worth cutting back a couple of miles and running only through the residential neighborhood like he'd planned.
Ahead of him walked another schoolboy, short and skinny as a match. Squinting, Jensen noticed something white glued to his jacket. As he increased his pace, he jumped up to the young man and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. The boy moved and turned his head fearfully. EL peeled a crumpled piece of paper from the cloth and discerned two derogatory words:
"Free trashcan."
The look on his face changed in an instant.
He hovered over the guy and, seeing the familiar face, raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"If it isn't you, the bathroom kid."
Namgun, shrinking under the stare, blushed angrily.
"Do you know who wrote this?" Jensen showed him the insulting message. "Dae Han?"
Namgun shook his head negatively and answered with humility:
"No, he didn't."
"Hmm," Jensen, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, sucked the juice through his tube with a loud sound. He asked, licking his lips with his tongue. "So he's not the only one who's such a chump?"
Clutching the two textbooks he was carrying to the library with his hands until they blushed, Namgun tilted his head, trying to hide behind his not-so-long bangs. His pale, cracked lips trembled slightly, spewing out an unintelligible whisper. Jensen looked at him doubtfully and exhaled.
"You look like a wrinkled fig," he said honestly. Namgun, hearing this, opened his eyes and sharply gritted his teeth in irritation. Jensen only shrugged his shoulders. "Don't get proud. If some prick offends you, straighten up and kick him in the balls. No manly solidarity."
Crumpling the paper in his fist, he parted his lips in a cheeky smile and asked:
"So who is this clown...?"
The expressive voice oozed anticipation.
There was a much louder buzz in one of the classrooms than in the hallway. Four tall guys surrounded the desk of one of the students and chatted merrily about something. One of them leaned on his neck and forced him almost to press his nose against the desk. He smirked mockingly, flicking his notebooks carelessly with his fingers.
"I hope you're sharing your homework with us, aren't you? I just didn't have time yesterday - the boys and I were at the bowling club, and I didn't have time to do anything. It would have been nice if you'd helped me," In any other situation such words spoken in a friendly voice might have backfired, but in a situation like this the student only shook in fear, shaking his head vigorously. He felt a stranger's hand on his neck and coughed loudly.
The others didn't dare mess with this company, so they stood aside, either staring at their phones or reluctantly averting their glances out the window.
"What a kind and generous guy, eh. It's a good thing you didn't refuse to lend me a helping hand," the bully leaned over, his face creased and whispered loudly, sarcastically. "Otherwise you obviously wouldn't have come home today."
A shiver ran through his body, ripping through his heart like impulses. With trembling fingers, the schoolboy reached into his backpack.
The door opened, and there was a whisper throughout the classroom. Many immediately moved aside when they saw the man who had entered, but the company surrounding the table still continued to press on the boy, unaware of the suspicious silence in the classroom.
Jensen stopped in the doorway and looked around the room without expression, bumping into a bunch of bullies. Raising his eyebrows, he glanced at the young boy standing by the blackboard and shoved a juice box at him, saying softly:
"Hold this for me," he walked a little farther and turned around lazily, dryly throwing one last word. "Just don't drink it."
The schoolboy nodded vigorously, staring perplexedly at the multicolored packet in his hands, which emitted a sweet, fruity smell.
"Don't drink it? Aish, I wasn't going to..."
With inaudible steps El walked closer to the company. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pressed pants, he lifted his leg and kicked the ass of one of the gang. He was a big, short schoolboy, who reeked of the foul smell of sweat and machine oil from a few yards away. He howled painfully and bounced away, grabbing the sore spot with his broad hand. The company dispersed and stared dumbfoundedly at the high school boy who had broken their idyll.
Only their probably leader was still mocking the sitting boy and pulling his hair, waiting for him to get his homework out of his backpack.
Jensen smiled.
He hovered over him and leaned in slightly, pitching his voice:
"Hey."
The bully flinched unnoticed and finally broke away from his victim. When he saw the guy next to him, he immediately twisted.
"You're Ryo Honu, aren't you?" cleared his throat, and Jensen asked with interest. But his face made it clear: he knew who he came to see, and he knew why.
The bully's heart sank to the bottom.
He knew that man. The whole school knew him.
Gum Dae Han, the rebel, the bad guy who humiliated the small schoolchildren, now walked constantly in suspense, fearing that a tall figure would appear behind him and, pulling him by the ears, lead him away into some alleyway to break his nose again. Only when he saw the smiling face at the end of the corridor and the glasses slightly pushed down the bridge of his nose did an animal fear subconsciously arise within him, demanding only one thing.
To hide.
The suffocating atmosphere that hung in the air was heating up. Ryo Honu straightened up and, pulling on a mask of indifference, replied:
"Well me. And who are you?" he pretended as if he didn't know the guy in order to stump him.
Certainly, after he became known, his smugness would have kicked in. Should have put this asshole in his place.
The posture that Ryo Honu had assumed clearly reflected all the emotions he was feeling deep down. Arrogance, arrogance.
Authority.
Yes, the asshole is tall and probably strong, but what about the fragility of his ego?
Jensen, hearing how arrogant Ryo Honu's voice was, only smiled smoothly and condescendingly, exhaled weakly.
"Your mother."
There was a loud bang and an eerie crack, as if someone had split the wood with an axe.
Ryo Honu's face collided with the desk and several textbooks lying on it. Blood immediately spurted out to the sides. There were surprised and shocked sighs. The student on whose desk this had happened quickly jumped to his feet and walked away to the window with a complicated expression on his face.
Jensen grabbed the boy firmly by the hair on his scruff and pulled him off the table, dragging him across the floor toward the door.
Ryo Honu howled painfully, his hands trying to cover his nose, which was bleeding profusely. His shirt immediately turned scarlet. The rest of the boys in his company remained standing at the other desks, taking no action. It was as if they were paralyzed. Ryo Honu grasped the firm hand that was dragging him with hatred and clenched it to the point of bruising. Jensen paid no attention to this. Even his expression didn't change.
It was as if he felt no pain.
Many people were stunned by this picture. Here was the once formidable, terrifying fellow, himself floundering helplessly in the clinging hands of the newcomer.
No one dared to say anything against it and stop it.
The guy with the packet of unfinished juice shuddered as Jensen walked past him with Ryo Honu shaking in convulsions, and whispered:
"There are always bigger fish..."
Most, hearing this, silently agreed.
As they left the classroom, Jensen pushed Ryo Honu against the wall, and the latter, unable to resist, flopped safely to the floor. His straight bangs became damp with clinging blood and cold sweat. His heart was beating unbearably fast.
Jensen picked up someone else's notebook from the table and arched an eyebrow questioningly. Its owner, a beautiful high school girl with short black hair, nodded quietly. EL ripped out a sheet of paper and jiggled the pen a couple of times. He went over to Ryo Hong, who was lying in the hallway, squatted down and, spitting and pressing hard, stuck the sheet to his sweaty forehead.
"'Trashcan No. 1.'"
Raising his teary-eyed eyes at the guy, Ryo Honu felt the fear that had built up inside him spread through his entire body in an instant.
Jensen was so close that his even breath literally enveloped Ryo Honu. A black shadow covered half of his face.
No matter how many people Ryo Honu encountered, he had never seen such a calm and cruel expression on anyone's face at the same time.
A man with a face like that could not be ordinary.
He was like a giant python, dangerous and merciless, crisply swallowing his entire body in one bite.
When the red-hot breath once again touched Ryo Honu's head, Jensen raised his voice:
"How does it feel to be a victim? How does it feel to be cornered? Hurt that some asshole humiliated you? Trampled you into the dirt?" his tone reeked of coldness. Ryo Honu remained silent, swallowing hard with a lump in his throat.
His helpless expression suddenly reminded Jensen of a man.
Did he look so frightened, too? Or...was his look regretful?
Memories jumbled in his head, revealing vague images from the past. Behind them there was the schoolyard and hundreds of children coming home. Jensen, hunched over, sat on the bench, listening to the unintelligible speech of the teenager beside him. He talked for a long time about something, and then suddenly held out a candy in a juicy red wrapper. Jensen turned his head and looked into his eyes.
Yes. They were sorry.
But that regret brought only hatred.
So burning that the blood in his veins immediately boiled.
He struck the small palm that held out the sweetness and sprang up swiftly, moving away and leaving the man behind him.
Jensen did not remember his face, but clearly remembered his eyes.
Squeezing Ryo Honu's chin tightly, he lifted his head and spoke through his teeth:
"Guys like you, I'll hunt you down in droves, one by one, no difference at all. But I'll catch you all."
"Crazy!" spat out Ryo Honu balefully, trying to break free.
"Yes. I'm crazy."
The answer was crisp and dry.
"And I bloody love to see the likes of you crying, choking in snot. You don't deserve any other treatment."
He let go of his chin and smiled serenely, as if he hadn't just said the words that made someone else's blood run cold.
"Now run to the bathroom so you don't get caught by any of the teachers. I don't want any trouble."
Jensen straightened up, took his mango juice, and ran into Namgun standing in the center of the hallway. His round eyes looked surprised. The fingers holding his textbooks suddenly stopped trembling.
Jensen smiled dazzlingly and, turning around, walked lightly. Ryo Honu looked after him in disgust.
After a minute, the tense silence dissipated. The students turned away from the boy at the wall, resuming their conversations, but now the newcomer's name was repeatedly heard.
Namgun hesitated, stepped over Ryo Honu and hurried off to the library. Biting his dry lip, he fixed his carelessly laid bangs and looked ahead with confidence.
For some reason, everything inside trembled.
***
Near the small house, surrounded by an iron fence, we heard the sound of a motorcycle roaring. A few people took a fleeting glance at the four vehicles and went back to business.
A tall, short-cropped guy in a warm black turtleneck was smoking by the broken plastic boxes. Lazily opening his eyes, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and crossed his legs, taking another drag.
Ryo Honu pulled his helmet off his head and, lightning-fast, stepped down from the brand-new motorcycle and tossed it aside in anger. The face shield hit the ground and cracked.
The man with the cigarette pushed away from the fence he was leaning on and leisurely approached the company.
His tone was calm and bored.
"What's wrong?" his fingertips roughly circled Ryo Honu's chin and twisted. Ice-cold eyes ran down his bandaged nose.
Ryo Honu lashed out and growled through his teeth:
"One bitch doesn't know how to behave."
El Jensen's face flashed clearly in his mind, and his hands clenched into fists on their own, wanting to tear him to pieces.
A slight chuckle escaped the lips of the guy with the cigarette. He touched it with his lips and, chewing a little, asked:
"And what did you get in trouble for? Putting some kid on his knees in the bathroom again?"
Ryo Honu waved him off irritably.
"It's the new kid. In the time he's been here, Dae Han has already been punched in the face and now shuns him like fire. Cowardly mutt!"
"Hmm. And you've come to complain about him? Am I your mother or something?"
The guy in the turtleneck turned away and walked leisurely back to the fence. Ryo Honu, with a hateful scowl, tugged at his sleeve.
"I've come to ask for your help, Dohwan."
When he heard that, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Ashes fell from the smoldering cigarette.
"And what kind of help do you need?"
Tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, Ryo Honu conspiratorially bowed his head.
His every word was imbued with resentment and anger:
"After class, we slipped a note in his backpack. If he doesn't chicken out, he'll come here and we'll deal with him."
A cold laugh made him shut up.
"Really? You really think he'd come here alone? He's in high school? I don't think he's dumb enough not to bring the police or his friends with him."
"He's a loner. No one's seen any friends around him."
"So? That doesn't negate the first point. Or is that how you want to pawn us off, huh?" Dohwan leaned toward him and breathed smoke heavily into his face.
Ryo Honu went pale.
"No! I swear it! The four of us definitely can't handle him. Dae Han's company he smashed to smithereens," the schoolboy began hastily. "If he comes and apologizes on his knees, we'll let him go, there won't be much of a showdown. It's just... we've got to scare him with the crowd. That's all. If he really brings the police, I'll handle it."
"You'll get your daddy involved?" grinned the man standing across from him.
Ryo Honu clenched his teeth and grudgingly let out:
"Yes."
"All right," he agreed abruptly. Dohwan squinted and took a puff. "And when is he coming?"
"Today."
"Great. The boys have tonight off just in case. Yeah?" the company of five men, who were hauling boxes of some tools from the trunk, laughed out loud.
Ryo Honu sat down on the icy bench by the fence and looked around, shivering from the cold.
"Where's Naene?"
Dohwan finished smoking, tossed the butt into a nearby trashcan and glanced at the house.
"Asleep, as usual."
As the time approached seven o'clock, the weather outside deteriorated. The frosty wind became stronger, and soft flakes of snow began to fall from the sky.
Ryo Honu was no longer really sure if Il Jensen was coming. His fingers trembled slightly as the stranger's calm eyes darted into him again and again with a question.
But suddenly soft, shuffling footsteps were heard.
Ryo Honu immediately stood up and stared intently at the corner. His breath hitched. His eyes widened unconsciously as he saw a lone figure appear in front of the house. A yellow streetlight burning over parked cars cast a shapeless shadow in the snow.
Jensen took his eyes off the navigator on his phone and smiled at the familiar, simple-minded man.
"Barely made it, eh. You could have written the address more accurately."
"Are you...alone?" asked Ryo Honu doubtfully.
Jensen shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, yeah. Should I have brought someone else? You should have given me some warning then."
Dohwan came next to Ryo Honu and arched an eyebrow.
"That's him?"
The boy nodded affirmatively. Dohwan looked at the kid who had beaten his buddy with interest. A black down jacket with a few scratches near the zipper, a loosely knit scarf, school pants, and a backpack hanging behind him.
He looked like the most ordinary schoolboy.
Dohwan bit his lip intriguingly.
"He didn't look like the formidable big guy who could break your nose."
Ryo Honu frowned, casting his eyes over the image of Il Jensen.
"At school...he looked more dangerous," he squeezed out.
Jensen interrupted them, stomping impatiently in place as cold snowflakes began to creep up his collar. He shook his head, shoving his frost-reddened hands into his pockets.
"You called me. And I came."
Ryo Honu wanted to reply caustically, but Dohwan's hand, which blocked him and pushed him back, forced silence.
Five boys emerged from the house and lined up behind him. Some had wooden sticks in their hands.
"We called you to talk," an anticipatory smile spread across Dohwan's lips.
His cold eyes suddenly flashed with fire.
Jensen adjusted the strap of his backpack. A gusty wind came up and mussed his black hair over his pale face, casting a dark, strange shadow.
Jensen smirked.
"Well, let's talk."
In one of the rooms of the house, a man was wiggling on the bed. He wriggled out of the stuffy heavy blanket, looked around with sleepy eyes, and listened.
The house was empty.
An obscene gesture was embroidered on the stretched sweater. Combing his palm through the curly blond hair at the nape of his neck, he leisurely rose from the bed and yawned loudly. Rummaging through the refrigerator, he took a bottle of cold water and soaked his throat.
Pulling on his slippers, Naene strode to the second floor, but there was no one there either. He scratched his chin and checked his phone. There were a couple of messages on the messenger from "mom" and a few other classmates.
It was strange. If they wanted to leave, someone would wake him up anyway. The same Dohwan.
"What the hell," he blurted out, pulling his trademark bright red winter vest over his shoulders.
He opened the door of the house with his shoes on and froze before he could take only a few steps.
The smell of rusty blood filled the space.
Everyone he had known and spoken to just a few hours before was lying unconscious in the snow. Some were bleeding from their noses, some from their mouths. But there were no broken arms or broken legs. Knocked out teeth? Possibly.
There was a languid, painful groan.
In the midst of all this he saw two figures. One straight and calm, the other on his knees.
He squinted to see their faces in the darkness, dispersed only by the light of the yellow lantern, and fell into a stupor.
On his knees was Dohwan.
His handsome young face was all bruised. Fresh blood had bubbled up on his chin.
A broad palm rested on his face and gave a relaxed push. The body slumped to the ground.
Naene looked up at the man and met a look devoid of any regret.
A slight attractive smile on her pink lips and two tiny dimples surrounding her. Thin eyelashes drenched with snow.
And eyes. Creepy eyes of a hot blazing color. Eyes that burned into ash.
Lightning struck Naene from the very spine. He opened his lips to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a muffled sigh.
Jensen stood sideways, tilting his head playfully, staring at the man at the doorway. The knuckles on his hands burned from the blows he threw, and at the same moment they were cooled by the cool winter wind.
Loosening his slightly frozen lips, he threw in a smile:
"Will you tidy up here? Because I'm late for the bus."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned around, picked up his backpack from the ground, which lay carelessly beside one of the battered boys, and, shoving his hands into his pockets, waddled to the bus stop, sniffing his nose with a snotty cold.
Naene did not take his eyes off the figure until it disappeared behind the cars.
Still in a stupor, he looked at the groaning bodies in the snow and, leaning sideways on the door, with a defiant grin blurted out a single word that reflected the whole situation:
"Fuck."