Eighteen’s Bed

"My dad’s been asking why you haven’t been coming over lately. The old man never even talks to me, but you—somehow, even after pulling all that dumbass shit, you’re still his favorite. Meanwhile, the moment I saw you, all my feelings for you just died."

Go Yohan scoffed, voice dripping with mockery.
"So tell me, what’s your secret? Let the neglected son learn a thing or two."
"……Yeah."

"Fuck, yeah? That’s all you’ve got to say?"
"……"
"Anyway, I’m only trying to make up with you because of my dad. Got it? So don’t get the wrong idea. If I tell him we’re not talking anymore, I’ll just get called a dumbass again. ‘What kind of idiot gets into a fight with the top student?’—you get the idea."

He punctuated his words by smacking my arm. Hard.
The force of it made me stumble slightly, but Go Yohan didn’t even bother steadying me.
That, more than anything, proved just how sincere his words were.

"So, to be clear—I don’t actually want to make up with you. I’m just forcing myself to do it."
"Yeah."
"Don’t get the wrong fucking idea."

"I get it. I get it already, so quit talking."
Irritation flared inside me. Did he really have to spell it out like that?
Go Yohan was a real piece of shit.

My patience had already worn thin, and before I knew it, my own words came out barbed.
"Great. Then that works out, because I don’t want to be friends with some selfish asshole like you either."
I refused to let him have the upper hand.

Some of it was just sheer defiance, but mostly, I didn’t want to let him think I was still clinging onto him after all this time.
But Go Yohan must not have liked that response.
"What did you just say?"
He must have hated hearing me talk about him like that.

His voice dropped, cold and low.
"I said—what the fuck did you just say?"
It was openly hostile.

But all I felt was frustration.
Why was he the only one allowed to get pissed off?
For fuck’s sake, I’d been holding everything in.

"Look, I’ll go first. I’ll just say it. I was wrong. I was just trying to help. I admit I messed up."
I shot the words out like rapid fire, desperate to cut him off before he could say anything else.
I didn’t want to be dragged into this any further.

I just wanted to end this conversation.
Yeah. I just had to hold it in a little longer.
I clenched my fists under my blazer and swallowed hard.

Just one more time.
I could be an idiot one last time for the sake of a peaceful high school life.
I exhaled and forced myself to keep talking, voicing all the thoughts I had bottled up.

"……Yeah, I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. I got caught up in the whole idea of helping you and did something so shitty I wanna vomit just thinking about it. I was sloppy. I was pathetic. And yeah—you’re right. It was fucking embarrassing. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Probably nothing, because I was a fucking idiot. So I’m sorry."
Every word that left my mouth was the absolute truth.
Really.

And honestly?
Go Yohan had fucked me up.
I just wanted this entire suffocating, miserable situation to end.

"But I can’t make up with you. Let’s just act like we don’t know each other and go our separate ways."
What, he expected me to hang around him again after all this?
That would be hell.

I wasn’t a fool.
I had already crossed the burning lake of fire once with Han Junwoo.
I knew better now.

The Kang Jun from back then had been naive.
But I had learned from that mistake.
Going back to Go Yohan now? That would be just as stupid—it’d be cutting myself open all over again.

In the long run, this was the right decision.
I valued myself.
So I forced myself to endure the shame, the frustration, the way my throat burned with unshed tears.

Because I could see the bigger picture.
"Let’s do what you said and pretend none of this ever happened. That works, right? You said you don’t give a shit about me anymore. You don’t want to see me, right? So let’s just be done with it. Friends, enemies, whatever—let’s end this here."
My voice trailed off toward the end.

You don’t want to see me.
For the past month, Go Yohan hadn’t even looked at me.
The only times he came near me were when he wanted to rip me apart.

When he said he didn’t care anymore—he really meant it.
My fists clenched tighter out of habit.
I needed to hold back the lump rising in my throat.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.
I bit my tongue and swallowed it all down.
I barely managed to choke out a response to his sneering voice.

"Yeah."
I did good.
I think I did good.

I swallowed thickly and tried to calm my voice.
"You can still tell your dad we’re friends. Tell him we made up. I don’t care."
My phone had been vibrating noisily for a while now.

It was probably the taxi driver.
Perfect.
A convenient excuse.

I turned the screen toward Go Yohan and quickly twisted my body away.
"Alright, I’m leaving. The taxi’s here."
Finally.

I could leave.
I could get the hell out of here.
Go Yohan and I would be nothing to each other after this.

I had already swallowed my pride and apologized.
I had been the bigger person.
That made me better, right?

That was enough for me to trick myself into believing that this fucking horrible feeling didn’t matter.
"……Where do you think you’re going?"
"Ah!"

I didn’t leave that alley.
Because Go Yohan grabbed me and yanked me back.
My back slammed against the wall.

Pain shot up my spine, and I let out a choked gasp.
"What the hell are you—"
"Then who are you gonna cling to next?"

The words came out of nowhere.
"……What?"
"Tell me. You fought with Han Junwoo, so you ran to me. Now you’ve fought with me, so who’s next? It’s what you do best, isn’t it? Leeching off people like a fucking parasite."

A parasite.
The words stabbed me straight in the chest.
My gaze instinctively dropped to my injured foot.

Fuck.
What the fuck did I even do? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?
Even Go Yohan was saying this shit?

My nails dug into my palm so hard they almost broke skin.
Yeah.
I had fought for my own survival.

If I didn’t, I would have been left to rot.
But was that really something to be ashamed of?
My resentment and anger turned into barbed thorns.

"Whoever I cling to next—it’s none of your fucking business, is it?"
I pushed off the wall and tried to walk past him.
But again—

Go Yohan shoved me back.
Pain exploded across my back again, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.
I looked up at him, and his face was twisted in fury, his breath coming out ragged and sharp.

"You—watch your fucking mou—"
"Students?"
Go Yohan froze.

So did I.
We both turned our heads at the same time.
Standing at the entrance of the alley was the taxi driver, phone pressed to his ear.

My phone was still ringing loudly in my pocket.
The middle-aged man looked between me and Go Yohan with suspicious eyes.
"What’s going on here, students? What is this?"

"Ah—sir! You’re the taxi driver, right? I’m the one who called."
While Go Yohan was momentarily thrown off, I immediately straightened up and rushed toward the driver standing at the alley entrance.
"Hold on—was that student harassing you just now?"

"No, we were just talking. Let’s go. I think I’m running late. If you leave now, I’ll pay you triple."
The driver looked conflicted, his gaze shifting between me and Go Yohan. Then, pointing at him, he said,
"Be careful, kid. You can’t be doing stuff like that, alright? I’m only letting this slide because I’m busy right now, but—"

"Sir, I’m really sorry, but could you please just go? I really might be late."
Brushing aside his unnecessary concern, I climbed into the taxi, my steps unsteady. The driver sighed, clearly unsettled, but got into the car while still throwing wary glances at Go Yohan.
Adults were still adults, after all.

And Go Yohan, at the very least, still had some basic sense.
He stood there, frowning, not moving an inch. He just stared at the driver and me for a long moment before—
Bang!

He slammed his fist against the wall.
"……!"
The sound was so loud my entire body flinched.

It was almost the same as a month ago—but not quite.
Go Yohan’s face was twisted in anger.
Pure, unfiltered rage.

It looked unnatural on him.
It scared me.
Panicked, I tried to hurriedly shut the taxi door—

But, of course—
I failed.
"Hey."

Go Yohan had already stepped forward, grabbing the door handle before I could close it.
Has he fucking lost it?!
I yanked on the door as hard as I could, but of course, I couldn’t win against him in sheer strength.

Frustrated, I instinctively looked up at him.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing, kid?!"
The taxi driver’s angry voice rang out.

But Go Yohan didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he threw something completely out of nowhere at me.
"I happened to hear something the other day—Shin Jaehyun? That guy? That bastard’s a total fucking idiot."

Then—
Before I could even react—
He slammed the door shut so hard that the impact nearly knocked me back.

The noise was deafening.
My head buzzed, and I instinctively curled in on myself.
Through the ringing in my ears, I barely caught Go Yohan muttering under his breath, biting down on his lip.

"Don’t get too close to him.
Or you’ll end up being treated like an idiot, too."
 

****
"You're probably even more of an idiot than Shin Jaehyun. You should’ve fired back like that."
I spent the entire taxi ride regretting my lackluster response. On top of that, I regretted getting into this taxi at all. In the short time it took to get to school, my ears had been pounded with endless talk about handling school violence. What a damn nosy world.

Then again, I couldn't exactly claim that I wasn’t nosy myself. Alone in the empty classroom, I fiddled with the unfamiliar key in my pocket. The edge of the key dug into my thigh, sharp and stinging—almost like a guilty conscience pricking at me.
"Yeah. I shouldn’t repay goodwill with betrayal."
I had already taken enough. My decision was made, and my hesitant body finally moved. I tore a page from my notebook. After sighing a little, I picked up my pen.

Don't talk to me anymore.
I almost added unless you want to be bullied too, but stopped myself. That would’ve been too pathetic.
Next, I walked to the back of the classroom and searched for Shin Jaehyun’s locker. Number 18. A number that somehow suited him—like his class ranking or something.

The hallway was completely empty. Lucky me.
I approached the locker marked 18 and slipped the folded note inside. A quick glance around confirmed that no one had seen me. A perfect crime.
Dragging my heavy body, I made my way to the window. Through the glass, I could see the schoolyard and the front gate. There stood Go Yohan.

Judging by the time I arrived and when I saw him, he was a little early today. My gaze, out of habit, refused to stray from him.
Then, suddenly, Go Yohan looked up.
Startled, I quickly ducked behind a pillar. That was close—I almost made eye contact.

“Shit, that scared me.”
Without a second thought, I hurried off to the art room.
Through the thin fabric of my pocket, I could still feel the solid weight of the key.

This time, I returned just as the morning assembly was starting, blending quietly into class. No one asked where I’d been. I deliberately avoided looking at Go Yohan’s seat. Just in case, I didn’t look at Shin Jaehyun either. The memory of getting beaten for siding with Han Taesan was enough of a reminder.
I hate causing trouble for others. I also hate people like Oh Yeonjun, who can’t appreciate a favor.
The moment Shin Jaehyun lost the nameless note, I hoped he would immediately understand what it meant—and that he’d never talk to me again.

Even after lunch, I still hadn’t spoken a word.
“……”
The two heads in front of me remained facing forward, never turning back. Oh Yeonjun, who had taken the assignment topic from me, had erased all interest in my existence. I wasn’t being outright bullied—just silently excluded.

Shin Jaehyun didn’t come looking for me in the art room during lunch either. Lying sprawled across my desk, I reevaluated my opinion of him. He’s smarter than I thought. Well, a guy who gets along with everyone wouldn’t be an idiot. It just means he knows how to manage his image.
Being nice doesn’t mean you don’t know when to back off.
And yet, I couldn’t help but think—at least I’m better off than Han Taesan, right?

At the same time, I found myself hoping that Go Yohan was really different from Han Junwoo. That was my fragile hope—just as weak as my selfish wish to prioritize my own safety over relying on him.
In desperate situations, expectations lower.
"Well, at least it's not worse than that."

Someday, when I grow older and look back on my high school days, I’d settle for them being anything but ugly.
 
****

"You're probably even more of an idiot than Shin Jaehyun. You should’ve fired back like that."
I spent the entire taxi ride regretting my lackluster response. On top of that, I regretted getting into this taxi at all. In the short time it took to get to school, my ears had been pounded with endless talk about handling school violence. What a damn nosy world.
Then again, I couldn't exactly claim that I wasn’t nosy myself. Alone in the empty classroom, I fiddled with the unfamiliar key in my pocket. The edge of the key dug into my thigh, sharp and stinging—almost like a guilty conscience pricking at me.

"Yeah. I shouldn’t repay goodwill with betrayal."
I had already taken enough. My decision was made, and my hesitant body finally moved. I tore a page from my notebook. After sighing a little, I picked up my pen.
Don't talk to me anymore.

I almost added unless you want to be bullied too, but stopped myself. That would’ve been too pathetic.
Next, I walked to the back of the classroom and searched for Shin Jaehyun’s locker. Number 18. A number that somehow suited him—like his class ranking or something.
The hallway was completely empty. Lucky me.

I approached the locker marked 18 and slipped the folded note inside. A quick glance around confirmed that no one had seen me. A perfect crime.
Dragging my heavy body, I made my way to the window. Through the glass, I could see the schoolyard and the front gate. There stood Go Yohan.
Judging by the time I arrived and when I saw him, he was a little early today. My gaze, out of habit, refused to stray from him.

Then, suddenly, Go Yohan looked up.
Startled, I quickly ducked behind a pillar. That was close—I almost made eye contact.
“Shit, that scared me.”

Without a second thought, I hurried off to the art room.
Through the thin fabric of my pocket, I could still feel the solid weight of the key.
This time, I returned just as the morning assembly was starting, blending quietly into class. No one asked where I’d been. I deliberately avoided looking at Go Yohan’s seat. Just in case, I didn’t look at Shin Jaehyun either. The memory of getting beaten for siding with Han Taesan was enough of a reminder.

I hate causing trouble for others. I also hate people like Oh Yeonjun, who can’t appreciate a favor.
The moment Shin Jaehyun lost the nameless note, I hoped he would immediately understand what it meant—and that he’d never talk to me again.
Even after lunch, I still hadn’t spoken a word.

“……”
The two heads in front of me remained facing forward, never turning back. Oh Yeonjun, who had taken the assignment topic from me, had erased all interest in my existence. I wasn’t being outright bullied—just silently excluded.
Shin Jaehyun didn’t come looking for me in the art room during lunch either. Lying sprawled across my desk, I reevaluated my opinion of him. He’s smarter than I thought. Well, a guy who gets along with everyone wouldn’t be an idiot. It just means he knows how to manage his image.

Being nice doesn’t mean you don’t know when to back off.
And yet, I couldn’t help but think—at least I’m better off than Han Taesan, right?
At the same time, I found myself hoping that Go Yohan was really different from Han Junwoo. That was my fragile hope—just as weak as my selfish wish to prioritize my own safety over relying on him.

In desperate situations, expectations lower.
"Well, at least it's not worse than that."
Someday, when I grow older and look back on my high school days, I’d settle for them being anything but ugly.

 
----
"Trash incineration day: Second and fourth Friday of the month."

With nothing to do, even the most trivial things caught my eye. That day, it was a pink notice posted on the wall. I had no clue how long it had been hanging there. A thin layer of dust, faintly visible under the light, coated its surface. The noise around me continued, but I remained silent, alone.
"If you're not in our class, get out."
For some reason, that phrase popped into my head. I idly thought that if I ever heard those words, I’d have to leave this class too. The thought was so absurd that I let out a small, dry chuckle. When you're alone, even the stupidest things seem funny.

"What the hell."
Someone next to me must've seen me laughing to myself. He whispered to his friend, glancing in my direction. If you’re gonna talk about me, at least have the guts to say it to my face. The half-assed gossip drained what little energy I had left. I didn’t want to stay in this classroom, where they treated me like a stranger.
Class was over anyway, and today, even Go Yohan was unusually quiet, making it even harder to gauge his mood. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I decided to just head home.

But somehow, my feet took me somewhere else entirely—to the incinerator.
When thoughts stretch too long, mistakes happen. The acrid stench hit my nose as I stood there, lost in my own pathetic obsession.
"And what difference would it make if my shoes were here? Are you an idiot?"

Like I’d ever find them in that mountain of garbage. It was impossible. I had already made my decision on the first day. The fact that I hadn’t looked right away was proof that I had chosen denial over reality. Shaking my head at myself, I turned away.
That’s when I heard it.
"Hey! The bat’s flying away!"

The voice came from the alley behind the school incinerator. And with it, came the familiar stench of cigarettes.
The sound of a childhood song—The Bat is Flying Away—was being shouted rather than sung, the lyrics twisted with mocking glee. The laughter of their enthusiastic audience made my stomach sink.
"Fuck. Just my luck."

I didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. I had spent an entire year with that voice.
Hong Huijun. That bastard. A piece of trash who used to be one of Han Junwoo’s cronies. His name was already fading from my memory, but his presence still left a bad taste in my mouth.
Out of all the times to run into someone, why did it have to be him? This was a guy even Park Dongchul had been too scared to cross.

Fine. Just let it go. Picking a fight with him would only end badly. I didn’t even glance back—I just walked forward.
But the lowlifes of the world always have a way of making things worse. Just like now.
"Ugh!"

Something slammed hard into my lower back. I barely managed to keep myself from falling, my eyes snapping to the ground. A crushed, dirt-covered yogurt cup rolled between my legs.
My mind turned ice cold. My pants were wet.
I twisted my waist slightly, checking the damage.

"Fucking hell. Look at this little shit spraying his cum everywhere."
"Ugh, nasty. What the hell, is that jizz?"
A thick, sticky glob of strawberry yogurt clung to my gray pants before dripping onto the ground.

"…Fucking hell."
The cold inside my head boiled over. These pieces of shit. The curses swirled in my mouth, unsaid but pressing against my teeth. My fingers clenched my pant leg so tightly that the fabric bunched up in my fist.
I finally looked up.

There he was, Hong Huijun, leaning against the wall between the buildings, a cigarette dangling from his lips. A few familiar faces surrounded him, their smirking mouths unbearable to look at.
"Hey. Come here."
Hong Huijun flicked his fingers.

No.
I bit my lip and repeated the word over and over in my head. Hold it in. What the hell do you think you’ll accomplish if you go over there? Nothing good will come of this. I’ll lose. I already know that.
"I said, come here."

Fuck.
I exhaled sharply, letting go of my pants. My gaze flicked forward. At the same time, I pulled out my phone from my pocket. Finding an adult was the only weapon I had.
Hong Huijun saw what I was doing and rushed forward, snatching the phone out of my hands in one swift motion.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Who you calling? That's not how we do things here, come on now."
"Give it back."
"Give it back? And who exactly are you planning to call? What, the cops? You dumbass, you think you're some kind of victim?"

The word cops made him crack up.
Hong Huijun clutched his chest, laughing hard. The laughter spread through his little circle.
I recognized their faces. I had hung out with some of them back in first year. Seems like Hong Huijun had taken Han Junwoo’s vacant throne.

Fucking hell, he really climbed up the ranks.
"Or are you calling Go Yohan? Man, you really should learn when to give up. Everyone knows you got your ass handed to you by him."
Hong Huijun tapped his cast against my phone, smirking.

"What are the odds, huh? First your arm, now your leg. Snap, snap."
"It was an accident. I fell. I stepped on glass. Stop making shit up and fuck off."
"Fuck off? Oh, hear that? Kang Jun just told me to fuck off."

Their snickering wouldn’t stop.
It pissed me off more than anything. My face twisted into a scowl. I let my hand drop, giving up on taking my phone back. Instead, I sharpened my voice like a knife.
"And what the fuck is so funny?"

"What's funny? Come on, you already know. We’ve seen this play out before. Remember that kid halfway through sophomore year? You don’t?"
"I don’t. And I don't give a shit. Just say what you wanna say."
"You don’t? You of all people should remember. Han Taesan. You remember Han Taesan, don’t you? The punching bag. The one that reeked of getting the shit kicked out of him every day."

Hong Huijun spread his hand wide, and just like that, my phone slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a harsh clack.
Then he grabbed me by the collar.
Up close, his face was even more disgusting, reeking of cigarette smoke.

And then he said it.
"You reek of a punching bag too."
He laughed, shaking his shoulders like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"You know, we hung out for over a year, and you didn’t even pretend to care? You really have no fucking manners."
"…"
"You just slipped out of it, clean as hell. Man, I fucking hated you for that."

"Yeah? And whose fault is that?"
"What?"
His grip on my collar tightened. I lowered my gaze, staring at his hand as I spoke.

"You're the idiot who kept siding with Han Junwoo without even realizing what kind of bastard he was. Why the hell are you blaming me?"
"You little—"
"And you don’t even have the guts to say a word to Park Dongcheol, who’s stuck to Go Yohan like glue. But now, only now, you finally work up the nerve to pull this shit on me?"

I forced the corners of my mouth into a smirk.
"How predictable."
If I fought, I’d lose. There was no way I could beat Hong Huijun. There was a clear reason I had always been a second-rate player in this game. I wasn’t good at fighting. I was smaller, weaker.

And yet, I didn’t back down from the fight he was picking with me.
First, unlike when I got beaten up by Han Junwoo, this was a very public place. At least ten people upstairs were probably watching through the windows.
Second, even if no one else was watching, Hong Huijun’s own friends were eyewitnesses.

Third, he was right—my situation was already hanging by a thread.
And finally, last but most importantly, more bastards like him were bound to come for me in the future. Just like this. For when that time came, I had to warn them as best as I could.
Kang Jun wasn't someone you could easily mess with.

"Hey, guys. Looks like Kang Jun really wants to get his ass kicked."
I had to win this, no matter how dirty I had to play.
But a clear strategy wouldn’t come to me. No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t find an immediate way to turn this around.

And yet, despite that, the words that came out of my mouth were filled with nothing but defiance.
"Who the hell wants to get hit?"
Slap.

His palm struck my cheek from top to bottom. My vision spun. My head felt like it had been rattled inside my skull.
Fuck.
A metallic taste spread in my mouth.

"How’s that feel? Feels like shit, right?"
Yeah. Feels like absolute shit.
I licked the wound inside my mouth, glaring at him.

There was no way for me to win this.
Everyone always said it—the one who throws the first punch wins. I hadn’t landed the first blow, nor did I hold the advantage in position.
Thick, rough fingers jabbed at my forehead. The sensation was unbearably irritating, disgusting. I glared at the owner of those fingers.

"Wow, look at this guy. He’s glaring. Scary, huh?"
They sneered at me. Four, maybe five of them.
Then another massive hand rose.

Slap.
My cheek burned.
"Damn, that felt good. That sound, though—wasn’t that satisfying?"

Slap.
This time, it was the other cheek.
Reflexively, I grabbed his wrist, trying to free my collar from his grip. But no matter how much strength I used, his hand wouldn’t budge.

I couldn’t do a damn thing with just one hand.
Shit.
My vision blurred.

"Look at this guy, all skin and bones. If you were planning on fighting, you should’ve at least thrown the first punch."
His fist struck my arm.
Then another slap.

A sharp pain like a razor blade slicing my lip.
It split open.
It hurt. It hurt.

Yeah. I should’ve thrown the first punch. I should’ve—
Slap.
My head jerked to the side. The same spot he hit first.

Hong Huijun leaned his head back and laughed like he had never felt more satisfied.
And in that moment, a voice flashed through my mind like lightning.
"Han Junwoo threw the first punch, but I still won, remember? See, Jun-ah? I’m strong."

"That’s crazy. How did you still win after Han Junwoo got the first hit in?"
Back when things between Go Yohan and me weren’t over yet.
Back when he had laughed so warmly in my room.

Why?
Why was I suddenly tearing up?
"Hey, what’s this? Is this fucker about to cry?"

"Holy shit, I’ve never seen Kang Jun cry before."
"Record this! Get the camera out. This is fucking gold. If he cries, we’re posting it on the school site. Let everyone see."
Their laughter grew louder.

"Our Jun is weak, so I’ll teach you the simplest way to win, even if someone picks a fight first. If someone messes with you, Jun-ah, the first thing you do is—"
Go Yohan’s eyes, his mouth, the way his fingers gently wrapped around my own—
I was lucky to have a good memory.

With one hand, I grabbed Hong Huijun’s index finger.
"What the fuck are you doing? Clinging onto my finger like a little bitch—"
Their laughter got even louder.

And then, using every last bit of strength I had, I twisted his index finger in the opposite direction and threw my weight backward.
Hong Huijun screamed.
As his balance tipped, he fell with me.

The second his grip loosened, I yanked free.
Honestly, I hadn’t expected it to actually work.
But I had already braced myself to fall, so the moment I hit the ground, I bounced back up.

And I grabbed his hair.
"You fucking bastard! Hey!"
"If you ever get caught, drop yourself on purpose. Reset the hierarchy that bastard thinks he’s established. And in the moment they’re off guard—grab their hair."

"You ever wonder why gangsters are bald? It’s because if someone grabs your hair in a fight, you’re done. The best place to grab? Right between the ear and the crown. Jam your fingers in there like a net—don’t just grab, tangle your fingers in."
I could still see Go Yohan’s long fingers slicing through the air.
I had nodded back then, happy, as if I was learning something truly fascinating.

"Ah—"
His voice had been so soft when he explained it.
But my own face was twisted and wild as I lunged at Hong Huijun, hands sinking deep into his hair.

"The fuck are you doing, you crazy fuck?!"
"And then, pin them down with your weight. Use your whole damn body. If you lose control of the position, you lose. But if you never let them take it back—then you win."
In my memory, Go Yohan’s palm slammed down onto the table.

I drove my shoulder into Hong Huijun, pressing his head into the ground.
He thrashed like a cockroach.
"Get the fuck off me, you piece of shit!"

A kick slammed into my shoulder.
My back burned. My head was kicked like a ball.
Through the pain, I heard Go Yohan’s voice, calm, patient.

"Just focus on beating the shit out of one guy."
It didn’t matter how much they hit me.
If I broke him first—

No matter what happened to me, the only thing left behind would be one undeniable fact.
I won.