Craige/Killan POV
Over the past few weeks, things had slowly started to change for the better. The biggest shift was in my father. After everything that had happened, he had finally found steady work. During the day, he labored at a construction site, spending long, brutal hours under the sun hauling heavy materials to build homes. When he wasn't there, he picked up delivery jobs to scrape together extra cash. It was exhausting, bone-weary work, but he never complained.
For the first time in a long while, he was able to contribute to the family again. Every week, he would hand us a small portion of his earnings for our school expenses. It wasn't a fortune, but it covered our daily allowance, transportation, and supplies. Seeing him push himself that hard made me realize just how much he wanted to make up for the time we had lost.
As for me, I had finally returned to school.
Looking back, I realize I forgot to mention something important: I had dropped out when Glory was hospitalized. Back then, education was the furthest thing from my mind. Every day was a desperate struggle just to stay afloat. Hospital bills piled up, and there were days we barely had enough for a meal. I had no choice but to work.
I took whatever job I could find. It didn't matter how dangerous or illicit it was; if it paid, I accepted it. My priority was simple: keep Glory alive and put food on the table.
Hover offered to help me countless times. He knew my situation and had the resources to erase my problems with a single phone call. Every time he offered, I refused. Maybe it was pride, or maybe I was just plain tired. Tired of depending on others. Tired of living in a world where violence was the only currency.
For as long as I could remember, my life had been surrounded by darkness. Clients sought me out for work that no ordinary person would dare touch. Money came easily, but it always carried a heavy price.
And honestly? I was sick of it.
For once, I wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to wake up in the morning thinking about classes instead of missions. I wanted to worry about homework instead of targets. I wanted to earn money through honest labor rather than bloodshed. That was the future I craved—a normal one.
Eventually, Hover returned to Russia. Before he left, I made one thing crystal clear.
"Tell the others not to contact me anymore."
At first, he thought I was joking. I wasn't. I told him to inform every boss, every broker, and every organization connected to me that I was done. No more missions. No more contracts. No more blood. No more connections. From that day forward, I wanted nothing to do with my former life.
Hover looked at me for a long time before finally nodding. Deep down, I think he understood. Out of everyone, he knew better than anyone what I had sacrificed and how badly I needed to escape that world.
---
When I finally returned to school, I expected things to be normal. I was wrong.
The moment I stepped through the school gates, I could feel eyes tracking me. Students whispered as I passed, some staring openly, while others quickly looked away the moment I caught them. The defeat of Abby's Gang had become the hottest topic in school, and every hallway conversation eventually looped back to that incident.
People shared distorted versions of the story. Some claimed I had fought dozens of gang members single-handedly; others whispered that I had ties to powerful criminal syndicates. Someone even spread a rumor that I was a former soldier.
None of it mattered to me. What surprised me more was the second topic everyone was obsessed with: the story of how I had forced the father of one of the city's most powerful people to kneel. Students talked about it like it was a myth, whispering in the halls: *"Is it true? How strong is this guy? I heard even the adults are afraid of him."*
It was exhausting. I wasn't interested in fame or fear. I just wanted to finish school and live in peace.
For a while, it seemed like that might actually happen. The fights stopped, the bullying vanished, and the teachers finally had a break from the constant cycle of violence. The atmosphere became calm. Peaceful. Normal.
At least, that's what I thought.
I honestly don't know if I was born to attract trouble. No matter how hard I try to stay away from it, trouble always seems to find its way back to me. It's as if fate enjoys throwing chaos into my life whenever things start becoming peaceful.
Right now, standing in front of me was Nerdy, looking more desperate than I had ever seen him before. His usually calm and composed face was filled with panic. Sweat rolled down his forehead despite the cool afternoon breeze, and his hands trembled as he grabbed the edge of my uniform.
"Please," he begged. "You have to come with me. If you don't, they'll kill me."
I let out a long sigh and rubbed my temples. Tsk. Of course. It had something to do with gangs again. I was already tired of hearing about them. As far as I knew, the gang that ruled our school, Abyss, was a force to be reckoned with. They weren't just some local school bullies; they were legitimate gangsters who had successfully built a reputation across the criminal underworld.
However, in the brutal food chain of the city, they were far from the top. They were middle-tier—dangerous enough to terrorize the streets, but still small fish compared to the true monsters of the district.
Their leader, Jay, was a man who understood how to play the game. He didn't just rely on petty extortion; he had orchestrated a network of intimidation that made Abyss a name feared by local businesses and rivals alike. But everyone who knew how the hierarchy worked understood the reality: the moment Abyss stepped onto territory controlled by the heavy hitters, they were dwarfed.
Rumors had been spreading recently that Jay was obsessed with bridging the gap between Abyss and the apex predators of the city—a gang known as Clown.
Honestly, I had no idea who thought that name sounded intimidating. Every time I heard it, I imagined a bunch of circus performers running around causing trouble. But despite the ridiculous name, nobody laughed when talking about them.
Clown was the undisputed ruling class of the criminal food chain. Their members weren't just delinquents; they were professionals. They were violent, ruthless, and surgically efficient. People whispered stories about them in the hallways—broken bones, hospital visits, students and rivals simply vanishing into thin air after crossing them. Whether the stories were true or not, nobody wanted to find out.
Jay desperately wanted recognition from them. He wanted to climb the ladder, but he wasn't yet on their level. He had built Abyss into a solid, respected organization, but he was still begging for a seat at the big table.
It wasn't just about the gang, though. The more I dug into the rumors, the more the picture cleared.
Everyone knew Jay's father was a wealthy, high-profile businessman, but the image they projected—a proud father and an ambitious son—was a facade. In reality, their relationship was brittle, hanging by a thread. I realized that Jay's desperate scramble for status wasn't just about ego; it was about damage control. He was terrified of his own life being exposed.
It was his mother—a woman who had pampered and spoiled Jay into the monster he had become—who was the true architect of his downfall. She had shielded him from the consequences of his actions for years, burying his failures under thick layers of money and influence. Jay wasn't just recruiting for power; he was paying off ghosts.
He was constantly hunting down former students, classmates who had been forced to keep their mouths shut back in the day. Some had been bought off with cash, while others had been silenced through cold, calculated threats. Jay lived in constant fear that one of them would finally break their silence, shattering the respectable reputation his family had fought so hard to curate.
That was the real reason Abyss existed. It wasn't just a gang; it was Jay's private security detail, a wall of violence built to ensure that the secrets of his past stayed buried.
"Please," Nerdy said again, his voice shaking. "Help me, and I'll give you ten thousand pesos."
My footsteps stopped. Ten thousand. I slowly turned my head toward him. For a moment, I was tempted. That amount wasn't small. My old self would've accepted immediately without asking any questions. Dangerous mission? Fine. Impossible odds? Fine. Life-threatening situation? Fine. If the payment was good enough, I'd take it.
But things were different now. I promised myself that I would live normally. No more violence. No more fighting. No more getting involved in things that had nothing to do with me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Sorry," I said. "I'm not interested."
The disappointment on Nerdy's face was obvious. Without waiting for a response, I turned around and walked away. Ignoring him was difficult; ignoring ten thousand pesos was even harder. But I kept walking. I had made my choice. Or at least, that's what I thought.
******
A few hours later, lunchtime arrived.
The morning classes had dragged on endlessly, and by the time the bell finally rang, I was already hungry. I left the classroom and headed toward our usual meeting spot. Lory and Yuan were probably waiting for me. We always ate lunch together. It had become a habit. A routine. Something normal. Something peaceful.
Unfortunately, peace never seemed to last long around me.
The moment I reached the corridor, I saw someone running toward me. My eyes widened. "Lory?"
She looked terrible. Her breathing was uneven, her eyes were red from crying, and most noticeable of all was the bright red mark on her right cheek. A handprint. Someone had slapped her. Hard. She stumbled forward, nearly collapsing before I caught her.
"Lory!"
Her body trembled. "They..." she choked out, tears streaming down her face. "They took Brother Yuan."
My heart instantly sank. "What?"
"They said if you don't come..." she continued between sobs. "They'll hurt him."
For a brief moment, everything around me went silent. The noise of students, the conversations, the footsteps—everything disappeared. All I could hear was my own heartbeat. Slow. Heavy. Dangerous.
"Where?" I asked quietly.
Lory handed me a folded piece of paper. My hands tightened around it. The moment I read the contents, something inside me snapped. My fingers crushed the letter; the paper crumpled under the pressure. My fists clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
These idiots. These gangsters. They really wouldn't stop. I tried ignoring them. I tried avoiding them. I tried living peacefully. But they just kept coming. And now they had crossed a line they should never have crossed. They touched someone important to me.
A cold anger began spreading through my chest. I took a deep breath. Then another. But it didn't help. The fury remained. No. It only grew stronger. I would make sure they remembered this day. I would carve the lesson into their minds. No one touches the people I care about and walks away smiling.
I turned and started walking toward the exit. Then suddenly, someone stepped in front of me. Nerdy.
"I'll come with you," he said.
I stared at him. He pointed toward the school gate. "I brought my bike. It'll be faster."
For a second, neither of us spoke. Then I nodded. This wasn't the time to argue. This wasn't the time to refuse help. Yuan needed me. Now.
We rushed outside. The bike was already waiting. The moment I climbed onto the back, Nerdy pushed the pedals as hard as he could. The wind slammed against my face as we sped through the streets. Buildings blurred past, and pedestrians jumped out of the way. My eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
Hold on, Yuan. I'm coming. And anyone who laid a hand on you is going to regret it.
The bike shot forward even faster as we raced toward the location written in the letter. Toward the trap that was waiting for us. And toward the fight I had desperately tried to avoid.