CHAPTER 39: DO YOU HAVE A CIGARETTE?

The sound of the fists and grunts slowly started to echo off the restroom’s tiled walls. Ryan’s back hit the sink as a loud gasp left his mouth, blocking a punch that still damaged his arms down to the bones.

His ribs started to scream from the earlier kick. Every breath felt like dragging knives through his chest.

Another blow came, then another right after that. Three of them didn’t spare any mercy to him—all taller, older, and built like thugs who probably belonged behind bars and not inside a school restroom.

The biggest one grinned. "You think you can listen to our stuff and we will let you walk away that easily, fatty?"

Ryan’s fists trembled, fingers ached. "I... didn’t hear anything."

The skinny one cut him off with a punch, which crashed into his shoulder joint. Ryan stumbled backwards, coughing; pain started to erupt through his every muscle. His body was still drained from his fight earlier; his stamina hadn’t recovered yet.

[DING!]

[Warning: Stamina critically low. Physical performance down 27%.]

"Damn it..." Ryan muttered through his teeth as he raised his fists once again. He brought them near his face, taking his stance.

But his punches were slower this time, and his footwork started getting sloppier. He threw a cross, which got blocked effortlessly. A jab, which got dodged.

The next hit landed square in his stomach; his vision started to get blurry at the edge of his eyes. His knees hit the cold tiles.

The tallest one laughed as he cracked his knuckles. "What a joke. The Boxing Club’s little hero, huh? Thought you were some kind of badass after that fight, which you hardly won?"

Ryan tried to stand back up, but his legs refused to move. ’I’m not going to lose... not here, fuck it!’

And then—

A voice came from the hallway, lazy but sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. "Oi."

The footsteps echoed as they started getting closer—unhurried, confident. "Leave the fatty alone."

The three of them froze, their expressions starting to turn wild. Even Ryan blinked up in confusion, dazed, trying to recognize the voice.

The figure slowly stepped into the light—tall, six foot one inch at least, lean and athletic but broad-shouldered. His black-and-red hair shimmered faintly under the fluorescent light, messy yet stylish, with eyes sharp but warm, like someone who smiled a lot but never meant it fully.

A soft smirk curled up on the guy’s face. It was Daniel Rainsford.

The three thugs exchanged nervous looks with each other. "D-Daniel!?"

"Yo," Daniel said casually, his hands buried deep inside of his pockets, tilting his head a bit. "A quick question for you all."

His tone was light—almost cheerful. "Do any of you have a cigarette?"

The tallest one blinked as he muttered. "Huh?"

"I asked," Daniel repeated his words, still smiling brightly. "You got a cigarette?"

All three of them stayed quiet. The air grew heavier. Finally, the tattooed one scoffed, trying to hide his nerves. "No, we don’t."

Daniel’s smile didn’t fade—it just changed a bit; it sharpened. "Oh?" he said, tilting his head a bit again. "No cigarettes, huh?"

He stepped closer; a smile stayed up on his lips, but his eyes—they weren’t smiling anymore. Then, before anyone could even blink—

CRACK!

Daniel’s leg shot out like a whip, catching the big guy square right in his ribs; the impact echoed through the entire restroom. The boy flew sideways as he got smashed against the stall door before crumpling down to the floor, wheezing.

Daniel leaned forward slightly, voice soft but dangerous. "Why don’t you have a cigarette?"

The other two froze in their places—caught between fear and disbelief.

The skinny one then stammered. "W-we don’t smoke—"

Daniel’s gaze shifted to him instantly—calm, almost curious. The boy went pale and instantly reached to his pockets, searching for a cigarette nervously. "Wait! I—I do! I mean, I think that I do!"

He then pulled out a half-crushed pack and held it out with shaking hands, trying not to get killed.

Daniel’s grin returned—wide and sunny, like nothing actually happened just now. "See? Now that’s better, good boy." Daniel said softly with a bright smile on his face.

He took the pack, looked at it for a moment... then without saying anything—

THUD!

He spun one of his legs and back-kicked the kid who just offered him a cigarette in the chest. The impact lifted him off the ground, sending him flying towards the wall.

Daniel didn’t even take his hands out of his pockets as he said with a sad voice, frowning a bit. "You smoke cigarettes?" Daniel said, looking down at the kid who was whining in pain. "That causes lung cancer, you know?"

The last boy—the smallest one—snapped as he yelled and lunged forward towards Daniel, throwing a wild punch. Daniel moved barely an inch as he dodged his punch—effortless, casual. The boy’s fist cut through empty air.

Daniel pushed off the sink with one hand as he used it as leverage and lifted his body up. In one swift, graceful motion, he flipped over the boy’s head as his heel snapped across the kid’s temple in a clean roundhouse kick.

The boy dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut off.

Suddenly silence fell over the restroom—thick, heavy, and surreal. Three bodies were now lying on the floor; it felt like they lost their pulse. Daniel was standing in the middle, exhaling slowly as he brushed the invisible dust off his shoulder.

He looked almost bored, then his gaze suddenly turned towards Ryan, who was still on the ground—his whole body aching with pain, breathing hard.

Daniel’s tone softened instantly, and a soft smile curled up his lips. "Yo, are you okay, big guy?"

He stretched out his hand towards Ryan. Ryan blinked as he hesitated a bit—bruised, confused, and still trying to process what just happened.

Then, slowly, he took Daniel’s hand. The grip was quite firm, confident yet steady—the kind that said, I’m used to winning.

Daniel pulled him up with ease. "There you go, little guy."

Ryan steadied himself, still breathing hard, trying to catch his breath as he muttered with a shaky voice. "Why... why did you help me?"

Daniel scratched his chin thoughtfully, his bright smile returned. "Hmmm... that’s actually a good question." He took a small dramatic pause as he glanced at the unconscious delinquents.

Then he looked back at Ryan and simply said. "Because I think that you’re a nice guy, Ryan."

Ryan blinked. "Huh? "

Daniel chuckled. "What, can’t a guy help another one without a reason?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes had a strange depth buried inside of them—a flicker of something unpredictable. "Besides," he added, stepping over the fallen bodies of those thugs. "You just remind me of someone."

Ryan frowned in confusion. "Remind you of someone... who?"

Daniel didn’t answer that question; he was crouching beside one of the knocked-out boys, inspecting a small silver pin on his collar—it was a symbol shaped like a coiled serpent.

He clicked his tongue. "Figures..."

Ryan’s curiosity spiked as his voice came out before he could even think. "Who are these guys anyway? Do you know something about them?"

Daniel stood, brushing his hands off, and gave Ryan a small smile. "What, Arthur didn’t tell you about this or something?"

Ryan froze. "Arthur? You mean... Arthur knew about this all along?"

Daniel tilted his head a bit, still smiling. "Oh yeah. Of course he does. He’s involved in more than he looks, you know."

Ryan’s confusion deepened even more than it got better. "Involved in what?"

Daniel shrugged. "You’ll get to know about it soon." He glanced at the doorway as he heard footsteps echoing from down the hall. The noise from the arena was still in the air outside.

He looked back at Ryan, smile widened again—that bright, mysterious, too-perfect smile. "Anyways," he said, voice low yet soft, a pinch of playfulness filled in it. "Let’s get out of here first, shall we? Then, I’ll tell you everything about this."