Taarush sat in the infirmary, the sharp smell of antiseptic filling his lungs as the nurse yanked a bandage across his chest.
"Please, not so tight. I don't want to stay here longer. I feel like I'll vomit," he muttered, wincing.
The nurse's eyes narrowed. "You again. Don't you dare step foot in here once more, kid. I've had enough of patching you up."
"Then wrap gently," Taarush hissed under his breath, but it only earned him a bandage tied even tighter. He groaned, clutching his ribs.
When the nurse finally dismissed him, he staggered toward the door, exhaustion weighing on his every step. The door creaked open, and there she was—Sanya, waiting outside.
Taarush's lips curved into a faint smile despite his bruises. "What happened, Sanya? Why do you look so sad?"
Her eyes wavered, guilt written across them. She opened her mouth, her voice trembling. "Because… I couldn't help you. When Sam—when he…"
Taarush shook his head, cutting her off. His smile widened just slightly, though it hurt to do so. "Idiot. Chill out. I'm just glad you're safe after that incident."
Her chest tightened at his words. He had serious injuries, yet he was still worrying about her. Should she be relieved by his kindness—or more guilty for her weakness?
"He's hurt so badly… and still smiling for me," she thought.
Without realizing it, her hand shot out and smacked his shoulder.
"OW! I'm injured, remember? Treat me like a patient, not a punching bag!" Taarush yelped dramatically, clutching his side.
"Idiot!" Sanya shouted louder, her cheeks warm, though her heart felt lighter.
Far above them, on the rooftop of the school, Sam leaned against the railing, his eyes narrowing as he watched. "What a lovely couple," he muttered, lips curling into a cruel grin. "I'm eager to see them cry."
A voice answered from behind him. "What do you say, Sam?"
Sam turned. The boy who had interfered yesterday—Ram—stood there, pale-skinned, long-haired, his expression half-bored as he stifled a yawn.
"I thought we were done talking," Ram said lazily. "Or are we not?"
The rooftop was silent, wind brushing past. Sam's jaw clenched.
Ram, perched carelessly on the ledge, tilted his head. "Sam, go. I'm not interested in boys. You see, I am one." His voice was flat, his sarcasm sharp.
Sam's eyebrow twitched, flustered by the strange reply. "Grow up. The time is near. And one more thing—don't help my slave again."
"Slave?" Ram's eyes opened fully for the first time, a glint of mockery shining through. "I thought you called him your friend. Are you alright, muscle head? Should I take you to the hospital instead?"
Sam's face darkened. For a moment, neither moved. Then he exhaled, turning away with heavy footsteps. His thoughts seethed, boiling beneath his calm exterior. Let's see what happens next.
As he descended the staircase, his expression warped into something sinister, an evil grin etched across his face that made the students passing by shiver and turn away. Sam muttered under his breath, "Do you think I'm some kind of joker? Do your work, dumbasses."
Back outside the infirmary, Sanya crossed her arms. "Taarush, listen to me. You have to stay away from trouble. And from Ram."
"Ram?" Taarush echoed, curious.
"The boy who helped you in class… the one who threw the pen at Sam. He's strange. A freak, some say. Stay away from him, no matter what," Sanya warned, her tone firmer than usual.
Taarush nodded, though curiosity lingered in his eyes. He didn't know why, but Ram's name stuck in his mind.
As the two walked together toward the school gate, Taarush's thoughts drifted. He couldn't shake the image of the stray dog he'd rescued, still lying in the pet hospital, fragile yet alive. Somehow, that animal felt like a reflection of himself—beaten, scarred, but still breathing.
Near the gate, a group of students huddled in whispers. Their voices carried faintly to his ears.
"They say there are four power holders in this school."
"Four? You mean Sam's one of them?"
"Yeah… and the others? Nobody knows exactly. But they control everything."
Taarush paused mid-step. He wasn't interested in rumors, normally. But Sam's warning echoed in his mind: There will be no help coming.
His eyes darkened with thought. He tightened his fists, curiosity and unease stirring in equal measure.
Who were these four? And why did it feel like he was being dragged into their game?