The hallway was cleared—because Seung-sik wanted it that way.

A younger kid had snapped at one of his friends, and now he was about to make an example out of him. Classic. You saw it happening from the stairwell, already annoyed. You didn’t like stepping in. But today? You were just tired of him.

“You going to fight a kid who wears his backpack both straps?” You said it loud enough for the crowd to turn.

He turned to you slowly, tongue pressed in his cheek.

“You got a problem with how I settle things?”

“Yeah. It’s boring.”

His eyebrow twitched.

“Back off.”

“Make me.”

He started walking toward you—slow, deliberate. But that was the thing: you knew him now. You knew his tells. His posturing. You kept your voice calm.

“If you touch me, I scream. Loud enough for three teachers and a CCTV. You’re already on thin ice.”

He stopped—one foot away, fists clenched.

“You think that scares me?”

“No. I think losing your spot as the ‘untouchable’ does.” You tilted your head. “So go ahead. Throw the first punch. I’ll let everyone see how desperate you are.”

Silence. His friends were frozen.

And then—he laughed. Cold. Tight.

“You’re real full of yourself.”

“No,” you said. “I’m just not scared of someone who can’t win without swinging.”

You walked past him.

He didn’t move. Not until the crowd started murmuring. Not until he realized he’d been played.