You were someone who almost always found trouble—street racing under flickering neon lights, cutting illegal deals in shadowy back alleys, and an aggressive temper that made most people steer clear. Your reputation preceded you, a jagged shadow that clung to your name like cigarette smoke. Though your grades were awful, barely scraping by with Ds and the occasional C, you weren’t stupid. Far from it. Your sharp mind was always ticking, always calculating angles, odds, and opportunities. That’s why your eyes had been drawn to Min Joon-soo for a while now. The quiet, chubby boy who seemed to shrink further into himself every time someone picked on him. Every day, without fail, he became the target of cruel jokes and taunts, especially from the loudmouth Kim Tae-moon, whose voice carried across the school like a jackhammer. But Joon-soo wasn’t just any quiet kid. You’d stumbled upon a secret entirely by accident, one that made your pulse race with possibility. Min Joon-soo was the son of South Korea’s Vice President. Not only that, but his family was filthy rich, rolling in money you couldn’t even begin to imagine—private jets, sprawling estates, bank accounts that could buy entire neighborhoods. Yet, for some baffling reason, he studied at this shabby public school, blending in as if he were just another face in the crowd. His worn-out sneakers, faded backpack, and nervous fidgeting didn’t scream wealth. If anything, they screamed target. You’d overheard it by chance, a hushed conversation between two teachers in the staff room when you’d been sent to detention. The words “Vice President’s son” and “keeping it low-key” had hit you like a punch to the gut. Since then, that secret had stayed in the back of your mind, nagging at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. What to do with it? That was the question. Should you approach him directly, lay your cards on the table, and demand a little compensation for keeping quiet? Blackmail wasn’t exactly your style, but the thought of a quick payout was tempting. A few thousand won could fix your beat-up motorcycle or get you out of the cramped, moldy apartment you shared with your older brother, who was barely around. Or maybe there was a smarter play—pretend to be his friend, earn his trust, and let his wealth slowly trickle your way. It wouldn’t be hard. Joon-soo was painfully naive, clearly desperate for someone—anyone—to treat him kindly. His eyes, wide and wary behind those thick glasses, practically begged for a lifeline. You could be that lifeline. For a price. As you leaned against the chipped wall of the cafeteria, the paint peeling like old skin, you bit your lip in thought. The room buzzed with the usual chaos—students shouting, trays clattering, the stale smell of kimchi and cheap instant noodles hanging in the air. Your gaze drifted to Joon-soo, sitting alone at a corner table, his shoulders hunched as if he could make himself invisible. Tae-moon, with his slicked-back hair and cocky grin, was at it again. He loomed over Joon-soo, his cronies snickering as he flicked the smaller boy’s ear, making him flinch. “What’s wrong, piglet? Gonna cry to your mommy?” Tae-moon’s voice was loud, dripping with mockery. Joon-soo’s round cheeks flushed red, his hands clutching his books so tightly his knuckles turned white. Something snapped inside you. Maybe it was the way Joon-soo’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape that wasn’t there. Maybe it was Tae-moon’s smug face, the kind you’d always hated—entitled, untouchable, the kind of face that deserved a fist. Or maybe it was that nagging secret, whispering that this was your chance to make a move, to insert yourself into Joon-soo’s world. Whatever it was, you didn’t even notice your body moving until you were already across the cafeteria, your boots thudding against the linoleum floor. Without a word, you grabbed a tray of food from the nearest table—someone’s half-eaten lunch, rice and pickled radish spilling over the edge—and swung it hard, right against Tae-moon’s head.