"Bastard! Do you think I'm calling myself fat?"
The burly man grabbed Lloyd by the collar and yanked him up with ease, his strength evident in the forceful motion.
Lloyd was utterly confused. He had no idea why this macho guy had suddenly blocked his path, let alone why he was being confronted so aggressively. They had never met before, so there was no logical reason for this stranger to take any interest in him, much less lash out like this.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Lloyd said sincerely, his voice steady despite his confusion.
He knew these kinds of guys—always looking for an excuse to pick a fight. And right now, he had no clue what he had done to piss them off. But one thing was certain: he didn't want to escalate the situation. Fighting back was out of the question, not just because they outnumbered him but because he had no reason to get himself into a losing battle.
"Aren't you a well-behaved little pervert?" The macho guy sneered, bending down to glare into Lloyd's face while roughly squeezing his jaw with a powerful grip.
Lloyd flinched, his mind racing.
"Sorry, may I ask what you mean by 'pervert'? I think you must be mistaking me for someone else," he said, his voice laced with nervous politeness. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He had no idea what this guy was talking about, but the situation was becoming more dangerous by the second.
'What the fuck? Pervert? What the hell is this guy talking about? I haven't even touched my dick in months, and now I'm suddenly a pervert? The fuck is going on?'
Lloyd felt insulted. Deeply. But he knew better than to let his frustration show. Expressing his emotions now would only get his ass handed to him on a silver platter. Whether this guy had a real reason or not, it didn't matter—he and his goons were clearly itching for a fight. So, Lloyd did what he thought was best. He played nice. He tried to talk his way out of it.
SLAP!
The impact was deafening.
"Ohh? So you think I'm wrong? You're saying I have a bad memory? You son of a bitch! You fucking perverted stalker!"
The brute's palm struck Lloyd's face with full force, sending a sharp, burning pain shooting through his jaw.
"Arghh!"
His vision blurred for a moment, his ears ringing from the sheer force of the slap. Before he even registered what had happened, his body reacted—his balance failed him, and he stumbled backward.
Thud.
He crashed onto the ground, the cold, hard pavement. For a second, his mind went blank. The pain didn't register immediately, but when it did, it hit like a truck. A deep, searing sensation spread across his face, making his entire skull throb.
And the worst part? There was no one around to witness it. No one to help. No one to stop this madness.
"You need to be taught a lesson for stalking me and talking back, you fucking son of a whore!"
The brute of a man—Matthew—grabbed Lloyd by his long hair and yanked him down the stairs like a discarded rag of potatoes. The rough pavement scraped against Lloyd's back with each thudding step, pain shooting through his body as he was dragged mercilessly.
"Argh... You're making a mistake! I'm not a pervert... Please, stop! I'll call the police!" Lloyd gasped, forcing the words out despite the unbearable throbbing in his jaw.
Matthew let out a mocking laugh before glaring down at him.
"Huh? You fucking mutt? Do you really think I give a shit about the cops? Do you have any idea who the fuck I am?" he sneered before swinging his knee up—
Crack!
"Arghh!"
Lloyd let out a choked cry as Matthew's knee slammed into his jaw with brutal force. His vision blurred as pain exploded through his skull. Blood filled his mouth, dripping from his busted lips and tongue.
"Yu... bassrd..." he slurred, his words barely comprehensible through the blood pooling in his mouth.
A new voice cut through the air, filled with amusement.
"Are you really a martial artist, Matthew? That guy is still conscious after you kneed him. Kind of pathetic, don't you think?"
The voice belonged to someone else. Someone just as dangerous—if not worse.
Lloyd struggled to lift his head, his body wracked with pain, but even through the haze, he recognized that voice. His stomach twisted in fear.
'Chairman's son!'
Even as his body teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, he knew exactly who was speaking. The distinct, arrogant tone. The mocking lilt. The infamous silhouette standing nearby.
Tae.
The notorious son of the chairman.
Tae wasn't just a rich playboy—he was a tyrant. A bully who preyed on the weak, the poor, those without influence. He had tormented and beaten students to the brink of death, driven people to despair, even suicide. Yet, no matter how heinous his actions, they were always swept under the rug. After all, his father—the chairman—had powerful political connections, and Tae's gang consisted of elites from families just as influential. They could make any problem disappear within hours.
And now, Lloyd had somehow become their latest target.
'Why are they doing this to me?'
He had never spoken to them. Never crossed their paths. He wasn't some kid who had offended them—he was just a regular student. So why? Why him?
Matthew clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning to Tae.
"Oh? You wanna try it yourself? See if it actually hurts?" he challenged.
Tae smirked. "Oh, you can go ahead and try me."
Matthew scoffed but didn't push it further. Instead, he cracked his knuckles and turned his attention back to Lloyd.
"Let's take this pig to the shed."
Lloyd's breath hitched.
"Pl-please stop!" he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew there was nothing he could do to fight back.
"Stop oinking, you fucking pig!"
Matthew's foot swung forward, slamming into Lloyd's skull with terrifying force.
Thud!
Lloyd's body went limp. His mind faded into darkness as the pain finally overwhelmed him.
Matthew smirked, nudging the unconscious Lloyd with the tip of his shoe.
"Now the pig is silent."
Tae clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he looked down at Lloyd's lifeless form.
"Musclehead bastard, I hope you didn't kill him. Not every death can be staged as a suicide. My dad will chew me alive if he actually dies. We've already gotten away with too many."
For the first time, a hint of unease flickered in Tae's voice.
Matthew rolled his eyes. "Relax. He's not dead... yet. I know how to control my strength, remember? And besides," he smirked, effortlessly lifting Lloyd's limp body and tossing him into the backseat of a sleek black G-Wagon, "you say that like my father isn't the goddamn police commissioner."
Tae exhaled, running a hand through his blue hair before stepping into the car himself.
The door slammed shut.