Overdrive!

20 missed calls.

From: Sunny 🌞

I stared at my phone in betrayal.

He finally calls. Now.

I answered, no hesitation.

"WHERE the hell have you been?!"

"Hey, relax," Sunny said casually, like he hadn't been missing in action for two days. "I just got my phone back."

"Just—You what?! I called, texted, even emailed you!"

"I didn't check my mail."

"I thought you were DEAD!"

"Well, I'm not."

"Great. I was preparing your funeral playlist and everything."

He chuckled. "Meet me at Sunny Grill. I got something to show you."

Fifteen minutes later, I stormed into Sunny Grill. There he was. Looking fresh. Like nothing happened. Hair windswept. Hoodie half-zipped. Munching fries like a prince.

"You suck," I said, dropping into the seat across from him.

He slid a thick envelope across the table.

"…What's this?" I asked.

"Open it."

I did. I blinked. Then blinked again.

"Bro. This is more money than my dad makes in a month."

He smirked. "Modeling."

"Modeling? Like clothes?"

"No, like chairs. Of course clothes, dumbass."

"I'm going to strangle you."

"Too late. I'm rich now."

Just then, the door opened.

In walked the white-haired transfer student — Isac — all mystery and menace. He didn't even look around. Just walked over and sat beside me.

Sunny narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell is that?"

"Uh... Isac," I mumbled. "New student."

Isac glanced at Sunny. "You have good posture."

Sunny blinked. "What?"

Isac turned to me. "Are you okay now?"

"Y-Yeah."

"I'm glad."

Sunny whispered, "He's weird."

I whispered back, "He saved my life."

Sunny nodded slowly. "So... still weird."

"I heard that," Isac muttered.

Sunny shrugged. "Good."

Without warning, Isac stood. "Bathroom."

He walked away, silently, his footsteps somehow softer than his words.

Sunny leaned forward. "You trust that guy?"

"I mean… he did save me."

Sunny crossed his arms. "He looks like he listens to classical music while plotting murders."

I had to admit, he kind of did.

[POV Shift – "Time Earlier" | Raphael's Perspective]

The club smelled like sweat, stale whiskey, and bad decisions.

Raphael knelt on the dirty floor, arms shaking, blood trickling from his lip.

In front of him sat a man — Farrel.

Black-haired. Towering. Silent.

Behind him stood six bodyguards. All muscle. No expressions.

Farrel didn't even look at Raphael. Just sipped his drink slowly, elbows on the armrest.

"Please… big bro," Raphael choked. "Help me. I—I'm getting destroyed out there."

Farrel blinked slowly. "Destroyed?"

"They're embarrassing me. These two guys, Daniel and some other freak—"

"You came crying about high schoolers?"

Raphael bowed lower, forehead nearly to the floor. "Please. They humiliated me."

Farrel finally stood.

He walked across the room like a glacier. Cold. Calm.

A man was being beaten in the corner.

"Enough," Farrel said.

The two guards stopped.

Farrel walked up to the beaten man, knelt down, and whispered, "Are you going to do it next time?"

The man nodded, barely conscious.

Farrel stood.

"You see, Raphael," he said slowly, "when a man can't protect his name... he doesn't deserve it."

"I—I know. That's why I came to you. Please…"

Farrel walked back, sat down, and crossed one leg over the other.

"You are a coward."

Raphael flinched.

"You fight like a worm. You scream like a toddler. You cry to me, but you don't fix it."

"I'm trying—!"

Farrel stood again. His shadow loomed.

"You want revenge?"

Raphael nodded eagerly. "Yes! Yes, I do."

Farrel took a step forward. The temperature dropped.

"I'll give you men."

Raphael's heart leapt.

"…But I never want to see your face again."

"Wha—?"

"You're an embarrassment."

Raphael's mouth opened, then closed.

Farrel waved a finger.

The guards moved forward.

"Now crawl out of my club," Farrel said, sipping his whiskey again. "Before I change my mind."

Raphael obeyed.

Crawling.

[Present – Daniel's POV]

"Another milkshake?" I asked.

Sunny nodded.

The bell above the door jingled.

We looked up.

Seven men entered. No smiles. No hesitation. Holding metal rods.

Everyone else in the restaurant went silent.

One of them pointed.

"You. Outside."

Sunny's voice went flat. "What is this?"

"We're not here to eat. Move."

Sunny stood. I followed. Stupidly.

We were dragged into the alley behind the restaurant.

One man stepped forward. "Which one of you is Daniel?"

Sunny answered first. "I am."

"No—no, he's lying!" I shouted.

The man raised his rod. "Doesn't matter."

They came all at once.

Pain.

Blunt, sharp, overwhelming pain.

My ribs cracked under the first hit. I screamed.

Another rod hit my shoulder. I dropped.

I tried to crawl—got kicked in the gut.

Blood spilled from my mouth. I couldn't breathe.

My vision blurred. The ground turned red.

Beside me, Sunny fought back. Landed a punch. Got elbowed in the face. Hit again and again.

He grunted. Groaned. Stayed up. Just barely.

But there were too many.

I heard someone yell. Another rod slammed into my chest.

I couldn't move.

I blacked out.

[Isac's POV]

He stepped outside, drying his hands calmly.

The table was empty.

He looked left.

He looked right.

"…They ditched me."

His expression didn't change.

Until he heard a scream.

He turned the corner into the alley.

What he saw:

Daniel, collapsed, blood around his mouth

Sunny, still fighting, barely standing

Seven men with rods

The rod dropped from one of the attackers.

So did Isac's mask.

He didn't yell.

He didn't shake.

His eyes seemed like he was looking for a prey to kill.

He walked forward slowly, picked up the rod on the ground — smooth, silent.

One of the attackers noticed him.

"Hey! Pretty boy. This ain't your fight."

Isac didn't answer.

Another stepped toward him.

"You deaf?"

WHAM — Isac struck. Jaw shattered. Body collapsed.

No warning.

Another rushed in — Isac side-stepped, swung low, cracked his shin. The man screamed.

Rod up. Strike to the temple. Down.

Sunny, panting, barely conscious, looked up and froze.

Isac wasn't fighting.

He was hunting.

Three men jumped him at once.

Isac ducked, jabbed one in the throat. Swung the rod over his head, slammed it down on the second's shoulder.

Third tried to grab him — too slow.

Isac spun, kicked his leg out from under him, then cracked his ribs.

He stood among the fallen.

Expressionless.

Like it wasn't the first time.

The last attacker — trembling — raised his rod.

Isac just looked at him.

That was enough.

The man ran.

Sunny staggered over to Daniel.

"Shit… Daniel… Daniel!"

Daniel didn't respond.

Isac walked over and knelt.

He touched Daniel's neck. Still breathing. Barely.

He looked up. His eyes were colder than ice.

He picked Daniel up like he weighed nothing.

"Where are you going?" Sunny asked, limping behind.

Isac didn't answer.

A black Benz pulled up to the curb — clean, quiet, waiting.

The door opened.

Isac placed Daniel gently in the back seat.

He turned.

"You coming?"

Sunny blinked. "Where—"

"He'll be safe."

Isac got in and closed the door.

The car drove away into the night.