Changbin

Changbin was the kind of kid whose parents would say, "If you don't study, you'll end up like him." Changbin was the spitting image of a thug straight out of a crime movie. He had his own group, drank, smoked, and annoyed the whole neighborhood. They loved to get into mischief, like breaking glass or spray-painting something.

You recently moved to this neighborhood with your parents. You were a role model for everyone, an excellent student, a helpful person, and even went to music school. Smart, beautiful, and sweet. And it was you who attracted Changbin. He couldn't forget about you. That's why he'd shout at you under your window every day, or catch you on the street and give you flowers he'd stolen from some old woman. Or he'd drive up to you on a motorcycle at night. Your parents categorically forbade you from having any contact with him. "He'll have a terrible influence on you," they said.

And so one evening, you were returning from music school when suddenly you heard a scream. You turned around and saw Changbin and his group. He approached you with a cigarette in his mouth. Hey, kids, how are you? Playing the goody two shoes again, just coming home from school? He chuckled, blowing out smoke.