Pi Han Ul

The sun cut through the dusty glass of the rooftop door of Yusong Technical High School. I stepped out and breathed in the dirty air of Seoul, mixed with the smell of cheap noodles from the school cafeteria. Down in the courtyard, I could hear muffled shouts and the clanking of metal—another "competition" of the ranking system. This school was obsessed with strength, with those stupid levels in the app.

Behind the concrete overhang of the roof, in the shadows, Lee Hyun-woo writhed. Pi Han-woo loomed over him with his guard dogs. I recognized one of them—Min-hwan, the perpetually grinning fellow. Hyun-woo was bleeding from a split lip, his shirt torn. He tried to shield himself with his arms, but Han-woo kicked him again and again.

I froze, watching. Not because I was afraid—I was used to this shit in Yoosung. I was captivated by the cruelty, the predatory glint in Han Ul's eyes. He was clearly enjoying himself. The ratings, the power, the fear in the victim's eyes—all of it fueled him.

Min Hwan noticed me. His grin widened. He said something to Han Wul, who turned around. Our gazes met. There was no shame or surprise in his eyes, only defiance. It was as if he were saying:

• What are you going to do?