"I told you I don't have the mood to deal with you guys today."

  ***

  A silence settled.

  Not the usual classroom silence —this one was heavier.

  Thicker.

  Like the air itself waited to see what would happen next.

  Then—

  "This f*cker…"

  Rehaad's four cronies snapped out of shock and rushed toward me all at once.

  Thak—thak—thak—thak—

  Their footsteps pounded against the old classroom tiles, shaking the desks as they sprinted across the room. Their faces were twisted with anger… but underneath it, I could see something else.

  Fear.

  They weren't doing this because they wanted to.

  They were doing it because they always followed whoever stood above them.

  Just like I once did.

  The first boy reached me, his arm cocked back for a wild punch.

  Too slow.

  I stepped to the left. A clean, sharp movement.

  WHOOSH!

  His fist cut through empty air.

  Before he could even understand he'd missed, I brought my foot down sharply on his right ankle.

  CRACK!

  "Ahhhhhh—!"

  His scream echoed through the classroom as his leg buckled. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his foot, his breath coming out in broken gasps.

  I didn't give him time to recover.

  My heel twisted.

  My hips turned.

  THUD!

  My kick smashed straight into his cheek.

  His head snapped back violently.

  His body lifted off the ground for a split second —then he crashed onto the classroom floor with a heavy thump.

  Dust rose around him.

  The other three froze for a heartbeat.

  Their breaths hitched.

  Rehaad, still on the floor behind them, stared with wide eyes, unable to process what he had just seen.

  I exhaled slowly.

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  "Last warning," I said, my voice low, steady. "Stop this. All of you."

  The three remaining boys exchanged a nervous glance and then charged again, their fear pushing them forward more than their courage.

  I couldn't take on three at once. Not properly. Not with everything that had built up inside me for years.

  In that moment my head felt fuzzy — like someone had poured cold water through my thoughts. I wasn't thinking cleanly. I was moving on a hard, simple instinct.

  They hit me together — three fists thudding into my face in a blur. I didn't dodge. I didn't flinch. I took the blows and let them land.

  Smack — smack — smack.

  Blood burst into my mouth, copper hot. My vision swam for a beat, but my hands moved of their own accord: I seized the closest one by the hair, fingers digging into the sweaty roots until his scream tore out of him.

  "Ahhhhh..." he howled, twisting, trying to wrench away. My grip only tightened.

  One of the other two drove a fist into my jaw. My lip split; warm wetness ran down my chin. The world narrowed to the iron taste, the beat of my heart, the dull thunder of adrenaline.

  I didn't feel the hurt the way I used to. The smaller hurts — the kicks, the slaps, the daily bruises — had thickened something in me. Compared to that collection of old pains, these punches were like mosquitos flicked away.

  The kid whose hair I held tried to pry my fingers loose. "Let me go, you bastard!" he spat.

  I didn't answer. I shoved his head down — hard. His face struck the tile with a boom that seemed to echo from the walls.

  The sound didn't stop me. I planted my weight on his chest, settled there, and hammered with my fists — not wild, not blind; more a steady hammering, a metronome of blows.

  thud — thud — thud.

  His hands fluttered uselessly at my wrists. His breathing came ragged and short. The two who'd been hitting me before were shouting now, panic threading their voices. "Hey! What are you doing—let him go!"

  The two who'd been shouting tried to pull me off.

  Their hands grabbed at my shoulders, my arms, frantic and unsteady.

  My face didn't change.

  Still calm.

  Still quiet.

  They were shouting, begging, struggling.

  But I couldn't hear them clearly anymore.

  Just the rhythm of my own breathing.

  The sound of my pulse in my ears.

  Then—

  CRASH!

  Something heavy slammed into my back.

  Pain shot through my spine, and the world tilted.

  A chair — I realized as I hit the ground, air bursting out of my lungs.

  Rehaad stood there, holding the broken chair leg like a club.

  His breathing was rough, his face twisted.

  "This crazy bastard…" he spat. "You've really gone psycho, huh? Trying to kill him?"

  I tried to push myself up — slowly — palms trembling against the dusty floor.

  But before I could even lift my head,

  THWACK!

  The chair leg struck my shoulder again.

  I collapsed with a grunt — still, no scream came out.

  I just stared at the ground for a moment, tasting blood, my breath shallow.

  "This bastard," Rehaad growled, stepping closer, "Did you lose your mind or something?"

  I turned my head slightly — caught a glimpse of his foot.

  And I moved.

  My hand shot out, fingers clamping around his ankle.

  "Huh—?"

  Rehaad froze, startled.

  And before he could react, I yanked.

  THUD!

  He hit the floor hard — the sound echoed across the classroom.

  Desks rattled. A few students gasped.

  In the next heartbeat, I was on him.

  Knees pressed against his ribs, my fists already rising.

  Then came the first punch.

  THAK!

  Then another.

  THAK!

  Then another.

  His head jerked with each hit.

  His arms flailed, weakly trying to block me.

  "Let... me... go…" he stammered between blows.

  But I didn't stop.

  My fists kept falling — steady, relentless.

  The noise filled the room:

  the dull smack of knuckles on skin,

  the scrape of shoes shifting backward,

  the faint, uneven breaths of the classmates watching.

  No one spoke.

  No one moved.

  Only that sound —thud... thud... thud...

  My hands were soaked red.

  Rehaad's face barely looked human anymore — swollen, trembling, blood mixing with tears.

  The other three just stared.

  Two of them backed away to the corner, trembling.

  The third — the one I'd beaten first — still lay on the floor, motionless.

  And then—

  A new voice. Calm. Unhurried.

  Cutting through the silence like a blade through cloth.

  "In the end…" the voice said,

  "you decided to fight back."

  I froze mid-punch.

  My breath came out in short, heavy bursts.

  Slowly, I turned my head toward the sound.

  He stood there — leaning against the wall, a lollipop lazily balanced in his mouth.

  Eyes calm. Expression unreadable.

  The class began to whisper.

  "Who's that guy?"

  "Hey... isn't he—?"

  "Yeah…"

  "He's Jihan."

  "Jihan Navraan."

  Yeah...That was—None other than

  Jihan Navraan.

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