Chapter 3 — Six Months Later
Six months were enough to turn Ter into someone no one recognized.
The quiet boy who once sat stiffly at the front of the class, afraid to breathe too loudly, no longer existed.
Ter laughed now—openly, shamelessly.
He talked too much. Argued too easily. Smiled as if rules were optional and consequences negotiable. He sat at the back of the classroom, legs stretched out, chair tilted dangerously, as though balance itself were a challenge he enjoyed.
Teachers noticed him.
And not in a good way.
The classroom was noisy.
Not loud—just the usual low chatter. Whispers slid between desks while the teacher wrote on the board, chalk scraping steadily. Two students beside Ter were talking, heads close together, careless and uninterrupted.
Ter wasn't.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes forward, listening.
"Ter," the teacher called suddenly. "Answer this."
Ter straightened slightly and answered—calm, precise, correct.
The teacher paused. Then frowned.
"Don't talk in my class."
Ter blinked. Once.
"I didn't talk," he said.
The room went quiet.
The teacher's expression hardened. "Don't argue with me."
"I'm not arguing," Ter replied evenly. "I really didn't talk."
The students beside him immediately fell silent, eyes dropping to their desks. No one said a word. No one defended him.
"Get out of my class," the teacher snapped.
Ter didn't protest.
Didn't explain.
Didn't even look at the students who had actually been talking.
He stood up, pushed his chair in slowly, and walked out without another word. The door closed behind him with a dull click.
Outside, the hallway was empty.
Tar exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His expression was unreadable—no anger, no embarrassment. Just quiet acceptance.
Inside the classroom, the lesson continued.
No one mentioned the two students who had been talking.
Ter wasn't afraid—nor was he disrespectful. He was simply fearless. He debated. Questioned. Smiled as if detention were a joke.
Sometimes, he didn't even bother showing up.
He roamed the school without permission, skipped classes when he felt like it, leaned against railings instead of sitting through lectures. He did everything students weren't supposed to do—and somehow made it look harmless.
Win hated it.
"Don't fight," Win said every time Ter's voice sharpened.
"Don't argue with teachers."
"Just let it go."
But Ter never let it go.
If someone spoke badly to him, mocked him, crossed a line—Ter fought back. Not blindly. Not pointlessly. But once he decided to fight, he refused to lose.
He always wanted to win.
More than once, Win stood in front of him, palm pressed firmly to Ter's chest, voice low and controlled.
"Stop. It's not worth it."
Sometimes, Ter listened.
Most times, he didn't.
Instead, Ter pulled Win along with him—everywhere.
If Ter wanted to skip class, Win was coming. If Ter wanted to roam the halls, sneak onto the roof, disappear into some quiet corner of the school—Win was expected to be there too.
Win wasn't someone who liked roaming. He preferred order. Rules. Staying exactly where he was supposed to be.
But Ter never accepted no.
He clung to Win's sleeve, tugged at his arm, made faces so exaggerated they were impossible to ignore.
"Please," he'd whine.
"Just this once."
"You can't leave me alone."
"You're my best friend—how can you do this to me?"
Then came the smile.
Innocent.
Soft.
Dangerous.
Win knew it was manipulation. He knew it was wrong.
And yet—
"…Fine," he'd sigh. "But only this time."
Ran and Farm watched it all in disbelief.
"This is insane," Ran said one day, watching Ter drag Win toward trouble yet again. "He used to be scared of teachers."
Farm laughed. "Now teachers are scared of him."
They didn't exactly like this version of Ter.
But they couldn't deny it was entertaining.
Tar wasn't broken anymore.
He was loud. Messy. Reckless. Alive.
And Win—calm, disciplined, controlled—was the only thing keeping him from going too far.
Sometimes, when Ter laughed too loudly or pushed too hard, Win wondered where this change had come from.
And sometimes—very rarely—Ter wondered the same.
But he never slowed down.
Because for the first time in his life, Ter
wasn't surviving.
He was living.