Junhong stood in front of the door to his new classroom nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He didn’t want to be there. He wished he could run away and rot to death instead of mingling with the other students. He was uncomfortable with the school uniform. The tie suffocated him and the blazer made him feel stuffy.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Meet our new student, Choi Junhong,” the homeroom teacher said as she opened the door. She gave Junhong a friendly smile—which didn’t make Junhong feel any better—and ushered him into the class.

Junhong did as he was told and faced his classmates.

“Treat him nicely and give him a tour around the school okay?” the homeroom teacher named Hyosung stared at each of her students’ faces intently before she added, “Don’t fool around with me, understand?”

“Yeah,” the entire class answered lazily, followed by a loud moan at the back of the class.

“Junhong, you can sit by the window,” the teacher told him, pointing at the empty seat at the third row.

Junhong nodded glumly and made his way slowly to his seat. He could hear faint whispers and giggles coming from the girls and disapproving grunts from the boys. When he was seated, he stared at the blackboard blankly until the math teacher entered the class.

“Page 145,” the teacher whose name was Yoochun stated as he faced the blackboard and started scribbling a set of formulas on it.

Junhong didn’t have a textbook. He glanced to his right—which was opposite to the window—and noticed that some of the students didn’t even bother to open their textbooks. They were ignoring the teacher. When the teacher turned to face them and saw nothing but pencils and blank papers on their tables, he didn’t say anything but to resume teaching.

Junhong blinked.

He was curious as to why the teacher ignored his students but his mind wouldn’t let him mull over it. He was still preoccupied by the young man he met a few days ago.

The moment the young man’s face flashed into his mind, he stiffened and he could feel his hands balling up into tight, fury-filled fists. Junhong regretted for leaving that day. He should’ve jumped on him and scratched his eyes off their sockets.

That young man-

Junhong felt something hitting his head. When he turned around, his face got hit by a piece of crumpled paper. He blinked and glared at the person who’d thrown the rubbish.

It was a boy who was seated at the end of the row.

His hair was slightly brown and his face didn’t quite match his age. Junhong found out his name by looking at his nametag.

His name was Aron.

Before Junhong could shoot him another glare, another boy tossed a rubber, hitting Junhong’s forehead. A few of the students who saw the incident started laughing.

They were enjoying the moment.

“Kim Jonghyun, I’m sure you have something to do right now. Your textbook?” the teacher said it without even taking a glance at the boy named Jonghyun.

“Yaa, JR, you should’ve thrown a paper plane right into his eyes,” another boy, Baekho—according to his nametag—punched Jonghyun or preferably JR at the shoulder and started laughing.

Both of them sat next to Aron. Judging by their rude behavior, Junhong knew that they were the bullies of the classroom. The others were merely spectators.

Junhong decided to ignore them so he shifted his gaze back to the once empty blackboard which was now filled with numbers and letters.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new toy,” Junhong heard Aron telling his friends, followed by their menacing laughter.

Junhong shut his eyes and bit his lips.

Things were going to get tougher.

♦

Junhong didn’t know how or when he got there. All he knew was that he spotted the young man coming out of the convenience store and ended up following him to his house which wasn’t that far from the store.

He’d used a car to get there but Junhong had tailed him by walking in the shadows. Since his house was nearby, he drove the car slowly.

After the young man had parked his car at the driveway, he got out and locked the door. Junhong stood across the street, under a tree, watching the young man as he grabbed his briefcase and loosened his tie. Junhong copied his movement, loosening his own tie for it was starting to suffocate him more.

An old man passed by and held up a hand to greet the young man.

“Himchan, how’s work today? Packed as usual?” the old man—a neighbor, Junhong assumed—smiled at Himchan and shook his hand.

Junhong felt his breath hitch.

Himchan.

“Papers and babbles,” Himchan chuckled with his hoarse voice. It reminded Junhong of sandpaper.

As the two chatted about their daily lives, Junhong turned away and shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer.

His hands were trembling— itching to land themselves on Himchan’s face. Junhong shut his eyes for a moment and bit his lips.

He wished he could just run to Himchan and beat him up. He wished he could just kill him on the spot.

When Junhong was far away from Himchan’s house, he turned back to look at him.

He was still there, laughing along with his neighbor. He looked happy. Too happy. Junhong didn’t want that smile to be on his face.

He didn’t deserve to smile after what he did.

He didn’t deserve to breathe.

He didn’t even deserve to exist.

Himchan had killed Junhong’s brother, Yongguk.

He was a murderer and Junhong wanted revenge.