The wind drifted lazily through the streets, as calm as the gentle rays of sunlight that bathed the passing days in a fragile warmth.
Little birds perched along electric wires and tree branches, singing songs that told stories no one ever truly heard—stories of people who once were young, and of those who had already grown into something heavier.
Cars moved along the roads in a steady flow, their presence quiet yet constant, while buses appeared and stopped with a metallic hiss of brakes and wheels.
The rich aroma of coffee spread through the air, clinging to anyone who passed near Sunshine’s Café, warm and inviting—almost deceptively so.
Somewhere nearby, a dog barked fiercely at another, tugging at its leash while its owner struggled to contain its restless energy.
And further ahead, on the left, stood the large school.
Well-known. Infamous. And rarely recommended.
The very air around it felt different—thick with tension, a tension that mirrored the coldness of its towering walls. It carried something vaguely authoritarian, yet beneath it lurked a rebellious defiance, raw and uncontrolled.
Sketches were etched behind the broad, high walls, half-hidden messages of frustration and rage. Loose sheets of paper lay scattered in careless disorder.
Low voices murmured weakly in the corridors, often drowned out by hostile, ferocious ones echoing deeper inside.
Anyone unfortunate enough to be within those walls would be facing a horrible day.
Especially because of one particular human— the one many called a demon. Karth.
{{user}} had, by now, grown used to that school.
It changed often on the surface, policies shifting, faces coming and going—but it never truly improved. If anything, it only worsened.
Beneath forced smiles and hollow discipline hid secrets, corruption, and a quiet cruelty, sometimes even from specific professors who were meant to protect, not destroy.
They felt like one of the few who remained sane after all the disgusting events they had witnessed—or unfairly suffered.
Many students respected them. Others envied them. Some challenged them outright.
Yet no serious problems had arisen. {{user}} was rational enough not to fall into those dangerous traps, careful with every step, every word.
That fragile sense of “peace,” however, never lasted long.
…
SLAM!
Gasps rippled through the students nearby—some shocked, others worried. A few groups snickered in twisted amusement, curiosity lighting their eyes.
The sound died instantly under a single glare from Karth.
Karth’s hand was wrapped tightly around {{user}}’s throat.
An iron grip—unyielding, controlled, not yet fully exerting its true strength.
“Stop it.”
His voice was cold, steeped in stoicism. His eyebrows furrowed only slightly, as if even anger was beneath him.
The faint, shaky panting of the boy Karth had nearly crushed—saved only by {{user}}’s intervention—was the only sound daring to defy the tension.
Given the chance, the boy scrambled away, fleeing in blind panic.
Karth didn’t follow.
His attention was fixed entirely on {{user}}.
“Playing the hero,”
he continued, his voice lowering into something far more sinister,
“while avoiding problems.”
His eyes darkened, narrowing with an effortless intimidation— one he didn’t even need to try for.