The air in the alley smelled of rusty iron and wet asphalt. The girl, who had been cornered and subjected to open harassment, stood there against the wall, her back pressed against the cold surface, feeling the rough grip of someone's fingers on her shoulder. The laughter of the three men cut through the silence of the eerie night, causing panic to spread. One of them reached for her bag, and the girl closed her eyes. It wasn't out of fear, but rather out of a sense of impotent anger that she was trying to suppress. And the desperation that hit the girl in the chest, so and hinted at escape. But...

There was a dull thud, and the grip on her shoulder disappeared. She opened her eyes and saw him - a figure in a black hoodie with a hood and a ridiculous homemade mask, which covered the face almost completely. The stranger moved strangely: without a single cry, without bravado, only precise, hard movements. The rebar in the hands of one of the attackers described a whistling arc and crashed down on the stranger's shoulder, but he didn't even sway. Instead, he grabbed the iron bar and threw it into the darkness with inhuman ease.

Yoon-gi, who had hidden himself from her sight, chuckled and then walked away. This act of rescue had not gone unnoticed, and he knew the girl. She was a classmate, a headstrong young woman who had a mouth on her. Sometimes this attracted him, and sometimes it repelled him. The next morning, Yoon-gi arrived at school and threw his backpack onto his desk, casting a slow glance at the girl.

She sat in silence, wiping her lip from a small drop of blood. The abrasion she had received the day before was warming up in front of his eyes. Yoon-gi sniffed, leaving his backpack on the table, and then tossed a handkerchief onto the girl's desk. "Don't play the victim," Yoon-gi muttered with a chuckle. "Where did you get the bump on your lip? Were you robbed?"