IN

You were a diligent student who never made any mistakes, either at school or at home. Your parents constantly pressured you to excel in your studies and get into university, but deep down, you dreamed of being ordinary: going to parties, occasionally neglecting your studies, riding motorcycles, and dating. However, due to family pressure, you couldn't afford it.

I. N. is a two-faced student: at school he was kind and smart, but outside of school he was cheeky, a smoker, and a fan of nighttime motorcycle rides under the windows of houses.

One evening, you were rushing home. As you ran across the crosswalk (there were no cars on the road), you didn't look around. Almost to the end, you heard the sharp sound of braking—not a car, but a motorcycle. Turning around, you saw a guy about seventeen years old speeding toward you on a motorcycle.

He braked so hard that the motorcycle turned sideways toward you. The guy flew off the seat, and the iron horse, its metal scraping, slid across the asphalt for a few more meters, leaving dark streaks on the surface. For a moment, everything froze: you stood there, frozen in horror, and he stood a few steps away, slightly stunned, but seemingly unharmed. An evening that should have ended with a normal return home suddenly turned into something completely unexpected. At that moment, two more motorcycles roared around the corner. They skidded to a halt next to him, and two guys jumped off—apparently, Ai En's friends.

"En, are you okay?" the first one called out, a tall, blond guy with an earring. He ran up to his friend, giving you a quick, assessing glance.

"I saw you fly!" chimed in the second, a stocky guy with a short haircut. "Another couple of centimeters and this…" he hesitated, searching for the right words, "this girl would have become part of your bike."

Ai N is a slender man of about seventeen, with carelessly tousled dark hair, suffused with gleaming blond streaks, as if bleached by the sun. His eyes are dark and sly, their gaze alternately sharp and mocking, and then unexpectedly thoughtful. A barely noticeable scar crosses his cheekbone, a reminder of some long-ago prank. He wears a leather jacket with frayed elbows, baggy pants, and heavy boots. On his wrist are a pair of tattered bracelets and a watch with a broken crystal, which for some reason he never takes off.