The park was quiet, its only illumination coming from dim streetlamps that flickered against the night sky. A soft breeze rustled the trees, but the tension in the air was heavier than the silence itself. Near an old, half-broken fountain, a group of thugs circled their target, their shadows stretching long against the pavement.
Their leader twirled a knife between his fingers, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. "You really think you can play hero, huh?"
Across from him, a young man stood motionless, hands tucked lazily into his hoodie pockets. His white hoodie draped over his frame, the dim light barely touching his face. He let out a slow sigh, eyes half-lidded, almost bored.
"I don't want to do this," he murmured. "Just walk away."
Behind him, a girl clutched the strap of her bag, her breath shallow. She had spent the last four years at his side—seen his quiet kindness, the rare curve of his lips when something amused him, the way he always seemed distant yet somehow present at the same time. But this side of him? The effortless way he stood there, unfazed, exuding an almost unnatural confidence?
It was like watching a stranger.
The gang leader scoffed, his amusement turning to irritation. "Tough guy, huh? Get him!"
The first thug lunged.
But before he could even swing, the young man had already moved.
A shift, barely perceptible—then a blur of motion. A hand caught the attacker's wrist mid-swing. A single twist. The sound of a body crashing against a nearby bench followed before anyone could even process what had happened.
Another thug rushed in, gripping a bat. The young man tilted his head slightly, watching as the swing came toward him—too slow. He ducked at the last second, stepping inside the attacker's reach before delivering a precise sweep to his legs. The bat wielder hit the ground hard, choking on his own breath.
The rest of the group hesitated. The cocky smirks vanished, replaced with something colder—fear.
The girl's heart pounded. His movements were too sharp, too precise. This wasn't normal. It wasn't just skill. It was like he already knew what they were going to do before they did.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was a massacre.
Miles away, inside a hidden underground base—
A row of monitors flickered, casting a bluish glow over the figures watching them. Their sleek, high-tech suits reflected the screens as they stood in silence, eyes locked on the live footage of the park fight.
One of them let out a breath. "No way…"
Another swallowed hard. "It's him."
At the center of the room, their leader leaned forward, fingers steepled together, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.
"We finally found you."
Back at the park—
A mechanical whirring sound filled the air. A small drone hovered into view, its red lights blinking in eerie synchronization before projecting a hologram into the open space between them.
The flickering image stabilized, revealing the face of a man—a smirk pulling at his lips, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous.
"Well, well," the hologram sneered. "Look who we found."
The young man didn't flinch. Didn't react. Just stared. His hands still in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
"Did you really think you could stay hidden forever?" the hologram continued.
He exhaled slowly. "What do you want?"
"Oh, just to catch up," the man chuckled. "And to remind you… No matter how far you run, the past always finds you."
The girl behind him tensed, her fists clenching. She had always known there was more to him—hints of something deeper, something he never spoke about. But this?
This was something else entirely.
The young man finally lifted his gaze to the hologram, voice quiet but firm. "If you wanted to talk, you should've just called."
The hologram's smirk widened. "Oh, but this is much more fun. See you soon."
With a sharp beep, the drone shot off into the night, leaving behind only a lingering hum and an uneasy silence.
The remaining thugs, realizing their colossal mistake, hesitated before scrambling away into the darkness, disappearing like rats.
Now, only two remained by the fountain.
The girl let out a shaky breath, staring at the young man as if seeing him for the first time. "You never told me you could fight like that."
He rubbed the back of his neck, his posture finally relaxing. "It's not something I talk about."
She hesitated. Then, softer, "Are you okay?"
His usual smirk faded into something more genuine. "Yeah. You?"
She nodded slowly. "Just… trying to process everything. But… I'm glad you were here."
He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Guess trouble just has a way of finding me."
Without thinking, she reached out, pinching the sleeve of his hoodie lightly between her fingers. A small gesture—one she always did when she felt uncertain but didn't want to say it out loud.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Just… stay, okay?"
His eyes flickered down to her hand before meeting her gaze again. For once, his usual confidence softened into something else—something almost vulnerable.
"I'm not going anywhere."
She gave his sleeve a small tug before quickly looking away. "...Good."
He let out a breath, tension finally easing from his shoulders. "Let's go home."
She nodded, finally smiling. "Yeah. Let's go."
As they walked away from the park, the girl stole one last glance at the empty fountain. The air was still, the only movement coming from the ripples in the water.
Whatever had happened tonight…
It was only the beginning.