Near the small house, surrounded by an iron fence, we heard the sound of a motorcycle roaring. A few people took a fleeting glance at the four vehicles and went back to business.

A tall, short-cropped guy in a warm black turtleneck was smoking by the broken plastic boxes. Lazily opening his eyes, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and crossed his legs, taking another drag.

Ryo Honu pulled his helmet off his head and, lightning-fast, stepped down from the brand-new motorcycle and tossed it aside in anger. The face shield hit the ground and cracked.

The man with the cigarette pushed away from the fence he was leaning on and leisurely approached the company.

His tone was calm and bored.

"What's wrong?" his fingertips roughly circled Ryo Honu's chin and twisted. Ice-cold eyes ran down his bandaged nose.

Ryo Honu lashed out and growled through his teeth:

"One bitch doesn't know how to behave."

El Jensen's face flashed clearly in his mind, and his hands clenched into fists on their own, wanting to tear him to pieces.

A slight chuckle escaped the lips of the guy with the cigarette. He touched it with his lips and, chewing a little, asked:

"And what did you get in trouble for? Putting some kid on his knees in the bathroom again?"

Ryo Honu waved him off irritably.

"It's the new kid. In the time he's been here, Dae Han has already been punched in the face and now shuns him like fire. Cowardly mutt!"

"Hmm. And you've come to complain about him? Am I your mother or something?"

The guy in the turtleneck turned away and walked leisurely back to the fence. Ryo Honu, with a hateful scowl, tugged at his sleeve.

"I've come to ask for your help, Dohwan."

When he heard that, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Ashes fell from the smoldering cigarette.

"And what kind of help do you need?"

Tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, Ryo Honu conspiratorially bowed his head.

His every word was imbued with resentment and anger:

"After class, we slipped a note in his backpack. If he doesn't chicken out, he'll come here and we'll deal with him."

A cold laugh made him shut up.

"Really? You really think he'd come here alone? He's in high school? I don't think he's dumb enough not to bring the police or his friends with him."

"He's a loner. No one's seen any friends around him."

"So? That doesn't negate the first point. Or is that how you want to pawn us off, huh?" Dohwan leaned toward him and breathed smoke heavily into his face.

Ryo Honu went pale.

"No! I swear it! The four of us definitely can't handle him. Dae Han's company he smashed to smithereens," the schoolboy began hastily. "If he comes and apologizes on his knees, we'll let him go, there won't be much of a showdown. It's just... we've got to scare him with the crowd. That's all. If he really brings the police, I'll handle it."

"You'll get your daddy involved?" grinned the man standing across from him.

Ryo Honu clenched his teeth and grudgingly let out:

"Yes."

"All right," he agreed abruptly. Dohwan squinted and took a puff. "And when is he coming?"

"Today."

"Great. The boys have tonight off just in case. Yeah?" the company of five men, who were hauling boxes of some tools from the trunk, laughed out loud.

Ryo Honu sat down on the icy bench by the fence and looked around, shivering from the cold.

"Where's Naene?"

Dohwan finished smoking, tossed the butt into a nearby trashcan and glanced at the house.

"Asleep, as usual."

As the time approached seven o'clock, the weather outside deteriorated. The frosty wind became stronger, and soft flakes of snow began to fall from the sky.

Ryo Honu was no longer really sure if Il Jensen was coming. His fingers trembled slightly as the stranger's calm eyes darted into him again and again with a question.

But suddenly soft, shuffling footsteps were heard.

Ryo Honu immediately stood up and stared intently at the corner. His breath hitched. His eyes widened unconsciously as he saw a lone figure appear in front of the house. A yellow streetlight burning over parked cars cast a shapeless shadow in the snow.

Jensen took his eyes off the navigator on his phone and smiled at the familiar, simple-minded man.

"Barely made it, eh. You could have written the address more accurately."

"Are you...alone?" asked Ryo Honu doubtfully.

Jensen shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, yeah. Should I have brought someone else? You should have given me some warning then."

Dohwan came next to Ryo Honu and arched an eyebrow.

"That's him?"

The boy nodded affirmatively. Dohwan looked at the kid who had beaten his buddy with interest. A black down jacket with a few scratches near the zipper, a loosely knit scarf, school pants, and a backpack hanging behind him.

He looked like the most ordinary schoolboy.

Dohwan bit his lip intriguingly.

"He didn't look like the formidable big guy who could break your nose."

Ryo Honu frowned, casting his eyes over the image of Il Jensen.

"At school...he looked more dangerous," he squeezed out.

Jensen interrupted them, stomping impatiently in place as cold snowflakes began to creep up his collar. He shook his head, shoving his frost-reddened hands into his pockets.

"You called me. And I came."

Ryo Honu wanted to reply caustically, but Dohwan's hand, which blocked him and pushed him back, forced silence.

Five boys emerged from the house and lined up behind him. Some had wooden sticks in their hands.

"We called you to talk," an anticipatory smile spread across Dohwan's lips.

His cold eyes suddenly flashed with fire.

Jensen adjusted the strap of his backpack. A gusty wind came up and mussed his black hair over his pale face, casting a dark, strange shadow.

Jensen smirked.

"Well, let's talk."

In one of the rooms of the house, a man was wiggling on the bed. He wriggled out of the stuffy heavy blanket, looked around with sleepy eyes, and listened.

The house was empty.

An obscene gesture was embroidered on the stretched sweater. Combing his palm through the curly blond hair at the nape of his neck, he leisurely rose from the bed and yawned loudly. Rummaging through the refrigerator, he took a bottle of cold water and soaked his throat.

Pulling on his slippers, Naene strode to the second floor, but there was no one there either. He scratched his chin and checked his phone. There were a couple of messages on the messenger from "mom" and a few other classmates.

It was strange. If they wanted to leave, someone would wake him up anyway. The same Dohwan.

"What the hell," he blurted out, pulling his trademark bright red winter vest over his shoulders.

He opened the door of the house with his shoes on and froze before he could take only a few steps.

The smell of rusty blood filled the space.

Everyone he had known and spoken to just a few hours before was lying unconscious in the snow. Some were bleeding from their noses, some from their mouths. But there were no broken arms or broken legs. Knocked out teeth? Possibly.

There was a languid, painful groan.

In the midst of all this he saw two figures. One straight and calm, the other on his knees.

He squinted to see their faces in the darkness, dispersed only by the light of the yellow lantern, and fell into a stupor.

On his knees was Dohwan.

His handsome young face was all bruised. Fresh blood had bubbled up on his chin.

A broad palm rested on his face and gave a relaxed push. The body slumped to the ground.

Naene looked up at the man and met a look devoid of any regret.

A slight attractive smile on her pink lips and two tiny dimples surrounding her. Thin eyelashes drenched with snow.

And eyes. Creepy eyes of a hot blazing color. Eyes that burned into ash.

Lightning struck Naene from the very spine. He opened his lips to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a muffled sigh.

Jensen stood sideways, tilting his head playfully, staring at the man at the doorway. The knuckles on his hands burned from the blows he threw, and at the same moment they were cooled by the cool winter wind.

Loosening his slightly frozen lips, he threw in a smile:

"Will you tidy up here? Because I'm late for the bus."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around, picked up his backpack from the ground, which lay carelessly beside one of the battered boys, and, shoving his hands into his pockets, waddled to the bus stop, sniffing his nose with a snotty cold.

Naene did not take his eyes off the figure until it disappeared behind the cars.

Still in a stupor, he looked at the groaning bodies in the snow and, leaning sideways on the door, with a defiant grin blurted out a single word that reflected the whole situation:

"Fuck."