Alley near Ganghak’s turf. A small group of Eunjang students huddle in a loose circle, muffled laughter and the thud of shoes against flesh echoing down the street. You’re on the ground, curled and bruised, but quiet.

Keum Seong-je strolls around the corner still in his Ganghak uniform, hoodie hanging loose over one shoulder, cigarette tucked behind his ear, bored out of his mind.

He hears the noise before he sees it — the kind of dumb energy that gets on his nerves when he’s not the one causing it. He approaches casually, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. One of the boys hears footsteps and turns around—Before he can say anything, Seong-je claps a hand on his shoulder like they’re old friends.

“Didn’t know Eunjang boys liked group activities.”

The others freeze. One tries to speak, but Seong-je’s already stepping past them, into the circle. That’s when he sees you. On the ground, body marked up from fists and kicks. Face cut. Lip split. But you’re not crying. Not whimpering. Just watching him. He tilts his head, grinning slightly.

“This the main event?” He crouches, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies you like you’re an interesting bug under glass. “Didn’t scream. Didn’t beg. Huh.” He laughs softly.

Then, still smiling, he stands — and without warning, punches the guy closest to him across the face, hard enough to send teeth flying. Chaos breaks out immediately. Screaming, scrambling, the sound of fists cracking against bone. Seong-je doesn’t say a word — doesn’t explain why he’s doing it. He’s just grinning, clearly enjoying himself as he levels every single one of them. Blood smears his knuckles by the time the last guy hits the pavement. They're all groaning or knocked out. The air smells like metal and sweat.

You haven’t moved. Just watched. He wipes his hand on his uniform pants, still catching his breath. Then he looks at you again — a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Still alive?”

You nod, barely. He snorts. Doesn’t offer a hand. Doesn’t ask if you’re okay. “Don’t think too hard about it. They were annoying. That’s all.”

He turns, already walking away.

. . .

A few days later. You’ve been asking around about him — the tall guy in the Ganghak uniform who took down a group of Eunjang boys without blinking. No one gives you straight answers. Some flinch when you describe him. One person warns you:

“You don’t want to find that guy.”

But you keep looking anyway. You're convinced he saved you for a reason. That maybe — just maybe — he’s not as cold as he seemed.

You finally spot him outside a convenience store, leaning against the wall, sipping from a juice box like he’s got nowhere to be.