CHAPTER 38: IT’S HIM.

Another voice replied back, deeper and calmer than the previous one. "Yeah, I know. We can’t disappoint him now. He finally trusted us with this job. Don’t screw it up, or else we’re doomed."

Ryan frowned as he whispered under his breath, his heartbeat quickening. "Packets? Boss? What the hell are these two talking about? What kind of packets are they hiding? Is it cocaine?"

[Host, you’re too loud; in this situation keep your voice low or else you might get caught.]

Ryan gave a quick nod as he shut his mouth up as he tried to make his way near the door and bit inside to take a better look at the stuff going on inside.

But before he could move any closer, a sudden pressure clamped down on his shoulder.

A voice, cold and heavy, spoke beside him. "You shouldn’t be listening to this, fatty."

Ryan froze instantly, his stomach twisted with fear. He slowly turned around.

A tall boy stood there, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. He was huge—taller than Arthur, easily over six foot five, muscles bulging under his uniform. His eyes gave a dangerous look; they were dark and sharp, his face carrying that casual arrogance that only came with the package of violence.

He clearly looked like trouble, and Ryan can’t dare to take him on alone.

"Uh..." Ryan stammered back. "I—I wasn’t listening to anything, I swear. I was just—"

"Liar." The boy said flatly as he tightened his grip on Ryan’s shoulder. The strength behind that single hand was enough to make Ryan’s knees tremble beneath. "I know that you heard everything."

"I didn’t!" Ryan blurted as his heart started hammering with the speed of a bullet train. "I swear I didn’t; I just came to use the rest—ugh!!"

The boy’s arm moved quickly—a fist came swinging straight to Ryan’s face.

The punch sent him stumbling back; adrenaline rushed inside of Ryan’s veins. "Shit—... I’m fucking cooked."

His body moved before his brain could even comprehend the current situation—instinct, training, and desperation blended into one completely as he twisted, his fist snapped forward, connecting squarely with the boy’s chest.

THUD!

The sound was deep and solid as the boy staggered back a full step, eyes widening slightly.

Ryan blinked, confused. "Did... did that work on him?" His heart started beating even faster as the time passed; adrenaline rushed through his veins like crazy.

The boy’s lips curled into a slow, amused grin. "Heh, you’ve got some strength; nice punch."

Before Ryan could even think about the current situation, two shadows moved inside the restroom. Two students stepped outside—one tall and wiry, sharp eyes glinting like knives; the other a hulking shape of muscle, veins bulging under the inked sleeves of his shirt.

They both didn’t seem like first-year students. "Well, well," the tall one said, lips curled up to give a faint smirk. "What do we have here? A little mouse eavesdropping on us, huh?"

The muscular one cracked his neck as he smirked. "Guess we’ll have to teach him a lesson on why you should never overhear things."

Ryan’s mouth went dry as he let out a voice. "Wait, I—"

But, it was too late. The first punch came fast—a blur. Ryan barely got his forearm in front of his ribs to block the punch, but the impact still rattled his bones a bit. Then came a kick, right into his ribs.

Pain exploded through his left side like lightning. He gasped for air, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp wheeze as he stumbled backwards.

His body screamed at him—stop. His muscles were already wrecked from the match before, the bruises were still fresh, and his stamina was drained to the edge.

[DING!]

[Warning: stamina level low. Physical performance dropping by 27%.]

Ryan clenched his jaw. ’Not now; it’s the worst time for it to trigger.’

He forced his body to move—a jab, a cross, his fists cutting through the air with desperation to survive. The rhythm Arthur had beaten into him was coming in handy now, but the skinny one was fast—too fast for him to handle.

He swayed side to side, letting the blows slip past before slamming his own punch into Ryan’s shoulder; another hit followed behind, driving deep into Ryan’s gut.

A sharp cry escaped him as he doubled over, coughing; pain started surging through his ribs.

The tall one sneered as he brushed his hand against his knuckles, now smeared faintly red. "Pathetic," he said, voice dripping with disrespect. "This is the guy who won Boxing Club a match? Trash like you doesn’t last long in here."

Ryan stumbled back, his back hitting the cool tiled wall as his breaths came out ragged. ’I can’t... take all three of them at the same time.’

The taller guy cracked his neck as he stepped forward lazily. "Go on, swing your little hands at us again."

Ryan did—out of instinct more than strategy. His punch was sluggish and easy to catch. The big one grabbed his wrist mid-swing, twisting it until Ryan’s knees almost buckled. Pain shot up his arm. His legs trembled.

"Look at you," the muscular guy said, smirking as he twisted harder. "All talk in the ring, and when it comes to real fighting, you’re a piece of shit."

Ryan’s head dropped down slightly as his teeth gritted, his thoughts racing. ’This isn’t how I lose... fuck it.’

Then—he heard footsteps.

They echoed from the hall behind the restroom—the kind of footsteps that didn’t rush, didn’t need to. Each step grew louder and closer until even those three stopped too.

A calm, almost bored voice cut through the air. "Oi."

They all turned their heads in unison as they saw a figure step out of the light, casting a long shadow against the cracked tiles of the restroom.

Tall, straight posture. One hand buried deep inside his pocket, the other dragging slightly along the wall. His eyes were cool and detached—the kind of gaze that didn’t see people.

"Leave the fatty alone," he said flatly.

His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight. It wasn’t a request. It was a statement of fact—quiet, yet final.

The three of them froze as the big one’s grip loosened slightly, his expression flickering between surprise and irritation. Ryan lifted his head a bit up from the ground, blinking in confusion.

That voice—deep, calm, faintly irritated, like it had better things to do than deal with this.

He knew that voice.

A slow exhale left his lips, half relief, half disbelief. It’s him... he let out a sigh of relief as a small smile curled up on his lips.