Daiki lounged on the worn leather sofa, his posture relaxed but his sharp gaze locked onto Haruto.
Around him, the gang loomed in their usual intimidating formation. Ren, ever the loudmouth, had a girl uncomfortably pressed against his side.
Her bangs obscured her face, but Haruto recognized her. The memory of her naked, vulnerable form on the floor flickered in his mind.
Still, as Haruto's eyes swept over the gang, he felt less fear than he once had. Up close, they weren't monsters; they were just high school kids cloaked in layers of cruelty and fractured minds.
A small, deranged cult of psychopaths, nothing more.
Daiki finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with disinterest. "So, what do you want?"
Straightening his back, Haruto clasped his hands behind him, his stance firm and deliberate.
"We're friends, aren't we?"
Daiki leaned forward slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging into a faint smirk. "Yes. And?"
