Chapter 142
CHASE
IAM stood in the narrow mouth of the alley, arms loosely folded, his gaze drifting over the three familiar faces in front of him. For a moment, his expression was somewhere between disbelief and faint amusement—until the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"…What exactly are you guys doing?" His tone was calm, but he had already suspected the answer.
Henry, Reuel, and Yohan froze like they'd just been caught red-handed. Their eyes darted anywhere but at IAM—sideways at the wall, down at the ground, or toward each other—until guilt began to sink in.
Then, in perfect synchronization, Henry and Yohan both jabbed a finger toward Reuel, blurting in unison,"It's all his fault—he said we should follow you."
The betrayal hit Reuel like a slap. His mouth dropped open, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as if the air had just been knocked out of him. Slowly, he turned toward the other two, eyes narrowing, silently mouthing something like Seriously?
"Unbelievable…" Reuel muttered under his breath, then faced IAM again, scratching the back of his head like a man trying to rub away the evidence of guilt. "This… this is a misunderstanding. I… we just happened to be going the same way." He even gestured vaguely toward the street, his hands making frantic little waves, as if motion alone could sell the story.
IAM's voice was even. "What part of no did you guys not understand?"
Henry jumped in before Reuel could respond, holding his hands up like a man surrendering to the law. "Look, I originally wasn't interested at all—but since it's the weekend and I had nothing to do but train, I got coerced into following you." His head tipped toward Reuel like a compass needle pointing due north. "By him."
Yohan, looking positively wounded by the situation, added with perfect solemnity, "He threatened my life. Said either I join in or he'd make me talk with some girls. I had no choice."
IAM blinked at them in slow succession, his shoulders rising with a deep, weary sigh. The mental image came to him easily: the three of them slipping out of the academy with flimsy excuses—some nonsense about fresh air or errands—and tailing him through the streets.
"So," he asked finally, "did you guys get what you wanted?"
The question dropped into the air and sat there. None of them answered. The silence was broken, only when Reuel's voice slipped through.
"I'm sorry," he said, his tone losing its earlier bluster. "I didn't know you were going to therapy. It makes sense now… something like that doesn't just happen, and then you magically recover. It was insensitive of me to follow you without asking. I should've respected it when you said no."
IAM's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why were you even following me?"
Reuel hesitated, then shrugged helplessly. "Because you give off this vibe—like interesting stuff's always going to happen around you."
IAM's brow twitched. "What are you even yapping about? How can someone give that kind of vibe? Nothing interesting is going to happen—"
"HELP! …SOMEONE HELP ME!"
The cry sliced through the air, cutting IAM's words in half.
For a long moment, the four of them just stood there, the sound still hanging between the buildings. IAM turned his head toward the source, then back to Reuel. The two exchanged a glance—half challenge, half disbelief.
"That…" IAM said stiffly, "doesn't count. It's just a coincidence."
"Oh, really?" Reuel's gave a smug smirk, one that came from being handed the perfect counterargument.
Henry was already frowning, his eyes tracking the direction of the noise. "Whatever. Someone needs help—we've got to go see what's up." Without waiting for agreement, he took off at a jog, his boots striking the cobblestones.
Reuel's smirk widened as he shot IAM a wink and followed after Henry, his long strides eating up the ground.
Yohan gave a half-hearted shrug, as if to say Don't look at me, before jogging to catch up. "You coming?"
IAM lingered a second longer, watching their retreating backs. He could have walked away. He could have left them to whatever mess they were about to stumble into. But instead, he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, feeling like he knew might regret this later, and set off after them.
IAM saw the boys had stopped around the corner, their bodies tense and slightly hunched forward, and he slowed his own steps before coming to stand just behind them. From where he stood, he could see their shoulders blocking part of the view, but as he shifted slightly to the side, the scene ahead became clear.
Down the narrow back alley stood fifteen people in a loose, uneven formation. They were dressed in uniforms that, at first glance, might have seemed official—until IAM's eyes caught the inconsistencies. The fabric hung too stiffly in some places and sagged in others, the seams crooked, the colors just slightly off from the authentic shade. The badges sewn onto their chests were even worse: flimsy patches with edges fraying, their cheap threadwork barely holding the symbols in place. If the intent had been to mimic the Hope Academy insignia, it was a pitiful attempt.
These fifteen weren't here for ceremony. Their posture made that clear. Their faces were twisted with the smug ease of people who thought they had control.
Encircled within them were five others—a smaller, desperate cluster of two boys and three girls. Most of them were on the ground, legs awkwardly tucked or sprawled out, their hands braced against the dirt as they looked up at the ring of fake uniforms. Fear clung to them like a shadow, with their wide eyes darting between the hostile faces towering above. A few had grazes on their elbows, or a smear of dirt across their cheek, the kind that suggested they'd already been shoved around.
One of the fifteen stepped forward—a broad-shouldered man whose uniform looked slightly less wrinkled than the others, though the fake badge on his chest was still obvious. His voice cut through the tense air, it was crude and loud.
"Shut the fuck up before I slap the shit out of you and your boyfriend."
His words dripped with mockery, his grin stretched into something ugly. In his grip was another boy from the smaller group, one hand clamped tightly around the boy's upper arm, squeezing hard enough that the younger one's body trembled. The boy's knees shook beneath him, his head slightly lowered, as though bracing himself for the next insult or blow.
They hadn't noticed IAM or the others yet.
Henry's jaw tensed, his brows drawing down sharply as his eyes fixed on the scene. There was no mistaking the way his fists curled slightly at his sides.
IAM glanced at him, taking in that reaction for only a second before his own attention returned to the confrontation. His gaze swept over the fake uniforms again, over the people they had surrounded, over the way the entire scene seemed to sing with the possibility of violence.
This is…