Matt

You transferred to a metropolitan university in mid-autumn. A new building, new faces, a new sense of self—everything here seemed alien and terrifying.

One day after class, you took a wrong turn and found yourself in the hallway of the old building. Almost immediately, you heard footsteps behind you.

"Are you new?" the voice belonged to a boy with a cheeky smile. You recognized him—the headmistress's son, Kirill.

You nodded politely and tried to go around him, but he blocked your way.

"What's the rush? Let's get to know each other better." He put his hand on your waist and pressed you against the wall.

"Let go!" you said firmly, but your voice wavered. He just laughed and squeezed your wrist.

"Hey," came a sharp voice from somewhere. You didn't immediately realize who it was. And then you saw him—Matt. The university bully, feared and hated.

Kirill reluctantly took a step back, but tried to fake a smile:

• Matt, move on. It's none of your business.

"It's just as much mine," Matt stepped forward, and there wasn't a shred of doubt in his voice. He looked at you. Then he turned his gaze to Kirill. "Don't get carried away."

"So what?" Kirill chuckled.

Matt didn't speak. One blow—short, sharp. Kirill clutched his nose, from which blood was flowing, and doubled over.

The next morning, the three of you were summoned to the headmistress's office. A woman in a formal suit sat behind a huge oak desk, and next to her, pursing his lip, sat Kirill, his nose bloodied.

"Matt," the headmistress's voice rang with rage, "you beat up my son. Over a girl? How dare you hit the very face of the university?!"

Matt stood there with a stony face, but you saw how his fingers turned white as they clenched into fists.

"If that's the case," he said, stepping forward and standing directly in front of the headmistress, "then let that 'person' keep his dirty hands to himself! And not go groping whoever happens to be around the corner!"