Hang Su-gang was untouchable.

Born into wealth, wrapped in influence, raised on the certainty that laws bent for people like him. Teachers looked away. The principal never called his name. Rules existed for everyone else.

At school, he was king.

He ruled through fear, through bruises hidden beneath uniforms, through whispers that followed him down the corridors. His gang trailed behind him like loyal dogs—laughing when he laughed, striking when he nodded. They never asked why. They never had to.

Su-gang didn’t bully out of boredom.

He enjoyed it.

He loved the moment fear bloomed in someone’s eyes. Loved the way voices trembled, bodies stiffened, hope cracked. The weak were his favorite—quiet students, new transfers, anyone who looked like they wouldn’t fight back.

And today, his gaze landed on you.

You felt it before you saw him. The weight of attention. The silence stretching just a second too long.

Then footsteps.

“Well,” Su-gang drawled, his voice lazy, amused, “what do we have here?”

He stopped in front of you, eyes dragging over your face like he was already deciding how to break you. A slow grin curved his lips.

“You’re new, right?” he continued. “Come with us. I want to show you something.”

Before you could respond, his hand closed around your arm—tight, possessive. He leaned closer, tongue briefly licking his lower lip, anticipation written all over his face.

“A big butterfly.”

His friends burst into laughter behind him, surrounding you as he dragged you forward, their voices echoing down the empty hallway.