Il-seong and Si-woo's friendship was governed by a fundamental rule: when one of them gets hit, the other must not intervene. Under no circumstances. Si-woo always followed this rule scrupulously. Il-seong, on the other hand, had more scruples. It was probably for this reason that he had thrown himself at Jeunk the day that brute had spat on Si-woo. The sound of the spit followed by a "freak" echoed throughout the classroom. A true opening to a proper beating. The last straw for Il-seong.
— Leave us alone!
His anger turned into a frightened plea in his throat. After all, Jeunk, the 17-year-old colossus, didn't leave anyone indifferent. Even the teachers preferred to look the other way rather than face him.
— Look, the speccy four-eyes is fighting back! sneered Jeunk's gang.
It was true that with his nerdy glasses, bowl cut, and frail appearance, Il-seong could at least have been intelligent to make up for his unattractive physique. But he had to be more interested in video games and manhwa than in his studies. And his only attempt at sports had ended in discovering his asthma. Needless to say, the odds between the two combatants weren't balanced. However, Il-seong didn't back down. He stood on his feet, raising his little fists in the air with a defiant look.
— Get lost!
— Oh, now you're giving me orders, huh? shouted Jeunk.
His threatening tone was accompanied by a mocking laugh. An unshakable confidence that broke Il-seong's weak determination. His legs started to shake as after a sprint, but he refused to give in once again. Il-seong shook his head, looking for help or any kind of support.
Everyone ignored him.
The other students were joyful chatting, waiting for the teacher. Between two gasps of panic, he heard snippets of a peaceful student life he would probably never live.
— Did you go see the new movie…?
— No, it's really become…
— My sister had a meltdown at the doctor's…
— You gotta admit, the S vaccine is a pain.
— I was sick for two days after…
At the edge of the abyss, Il-seong locked eyes with Si-woo. A dazed expression plastered on his face, his friend was watching the scene absentmindedly.
He was still in shock.
The thick, wet feeling of saliva was still running down his neck and slowly being absorbed by the collar of his school uniform.
— Si-woo? Il-seong whispered as he approached.
His friend slightly widened his eyes, hidden under a mess of black hair. He stared at a point above Il-seong's shoulder.
He understood and froze when Jeunk's deep voice thundered in his ear.
— You want to run after acting like a rooster, huh, chicken?
He grabbed Il-seong by the top of his head and threw him against the classroom tables like he was playing bowling. A group of girls ogled Il-seong with loud sighs. He had landed on their makeup kits. They stepped aside when Jeunk charged at the nerd like a buffalo. Il-seong and the desks were crashing against the wall.
Si-woo remained paralyzed by the scene. Yet, he didn't look away from the gruesome spectacle. The dogs who followed Jeunk were filming the fight, barking their proud of their master. They'd probably replay the scene during their smoke break. One of their minions was watching at the door for the teacher's arrival. He flinched at every new blow. Si-woo realized he was doing the same.
— You're talking less now, huh, geek! shouted Jeunk.
His fists slammed into Il-seong's face with incredible accuracy. Nose, cheekbones, chin — it seemed like he was trying to destroy whatever could have been good-looking about him. His opponent was reduced to curling up into a ball. Jeunk quickly grew bored and switched to kicking. Dusty footprints, like flip-flops, imprinted on Il-seong's uniform jacket. He let out high-pitched little cries. He sounded like a pig being slaughtered or a baby crying.
The thought that he could have been in Il-seong's place made Si-woo lose his breath. His fingers crumpled the manhwa he had been reading with Il-seong just moments ago. The ambient noises were drowned out by the pounding of his own heart, which threatened to explode with every blow Il-seong received.
I can't intervene, he repeated to himself in a feverish litany.
I can't intervene.
One blow, one scream.
I can't intervene.
A heartbeat, a blow.
I can't…
A scream, a crack, a laugh.
Si-woo wanted to throw up. He forced himself to count all the good reasons he had not to intervene. Excuses full of logic. It would making things worse. He was no match for Jeunk. And besides, it was Il-seong's fault, really. What was he thinking getting involved like this? Who does he think playing the hero? The new issue of To Be Hero X crumpled in his hands.
— What the hell is going on here?
This sharp exclamation shattered Jeunk's momentum. His foot froze in the air. Everyone turned to the voice instinctively. Mi-Cha walked into the doorframe, pushing her long black hair back. With all the noise, they hadn't even seen her arrive.
— We can hear you from the hallway, she continued.
A sharp edge in her voice, she walked straight up to Jeunk, her tiny steps echoing. Jeunk immediately dropped his prey. His anger shifted to a sugary, fake smile. He whined:
— Some little rebels tried to take me down. It's not my fault…
— Fuck you! Mi-cha interrupted him.
Jeunk's fake smile twisted as the class fell silent. No one dared to make a sound. Mi-cha didn't care. She stood on her tiptoes, her eyes level with Jeunk's chin.
— Forget about the karaoke tonight. I don't hang out with bastards.
Her finger jabbed his chest with each word. Like little punches to his heart. Jeunk's reaction was immediate. He shot a murderous glance at Il-seong, still on the floor. Frozen in fear, Il-seong didn't have time to run before Jeunk lifted him by the collar with one hand.
— Say your prayers, you junk !
Si-woo stifled a groan. This time, Il-seong was done for. For sure!
— By the way, Mi-cha casually added as she sat back down at her desk.
Jeunk froze, his ears alert.
— The teacher's coming.
Those three little words triggered a wave of panic in the class. The students scrambled to put the desks in order. They made sure not to disturb the two fighters during this task and sat back down just in time. The old Mr. Jeong appeared in the doorway moments later. He dragged his feet, his silhouette hunched over, and glanced wearily at the students' greetings. He adjusted his glasses disapprovingly as he saw Jeunk and Il-seong still grappling with each other.
— What's going on here? A fight? he asked in his hoarse voice.
— Of course not, sir! Jeunk immediately replied.
He shifted his posture and grabbed Il-seong by the shoulder. Il-seong grimaced in pain but wisely kept quiet, suffocated by his classmate's grip.
— My buddy tripped, so I helped him up.
— Good, good.
The teacher made his way to his desk without any further ceremony. He didn't comment on the multiple injuries on Il-seong's body. As Jeunk sat back down with a fake smile under furious glares, Il-seong raised his hand.
— Mr. Jeong, he groaned. Can I go to the nurse's office?
The old teacher adjusted his glasses once again. He didn't appreciate being interrupted, especially before the class even began.
— Fine, fine, he sighed. Anyone to accompany your classmate?
The students fidgeted in their seats, uneasy. Skipping a few minutes of class was tempting, but no one wanted to risk Jeunk's wrath. If they were caught helping his victim, they'd sign up to be his next one.
Il-seong glanced at Si-woo again. This time, his friend controlled the shaking in his legs and stood up, leaning on his desk. Conversations resumed with enthusiasm in the class as he helped Il-seong by the waist. They made their way to the door to the sound of the teacher's monotone lecture about square roots.
Jeunk, sitting near the door, blocked their way under the pretext of stretching. He took the opportunity to articulate in their direction:
— Tomorrow, you're dead.
This silent threat sent Si-woo into a panic as he ran down the hallway, Il-seong under his arm. The brute's laughter followed them all the way down the corridor. Si-woo quickened his pace without noticing his friend's grimace of pain. He was focused on his silent prayer. The desperate plea to any gods out there that a miracle would happen before the end of the day.