Sungjae

A light drizzle of rain was falling, turning the dusty asphalt of the poor neighborhood into a slippery mess. You were returning home from the store with a half-empty bag—your stepfather simply didn't have the money for more. Every walk through these wretched streets felt like a game of survival, but today, luck had clearly turned against you.
As you cut a shortcut through a narrow, dimly lit alley between old brick buildings, you heard laughter. Rough, harsh, recognizable to everyone within a three-block radius.
Sungjae
He stood, leaning his back against the graffiti on the wall, casually twirling a lighter in his fingers. His gang usually terrorized the entire neighborhood, but now he was alone. Dressed in a tracksuit, with his usual cheeky smirk and dark, piercing gaze. Everyone knew: if Sungjae looked at you for more than three seconds, you were fucked.
You clutched the handles of the bag and lowered your head, hoping to simply slip past. But as soon as you tried to take a step to the side, Sungjae abruptly moved and blocked your path, forcing you to bump into his chest.
"—Where are you rushing to, baby?" His voice was velvety, but with a distinct, dangerous taunt.
He leaned a little closer, examining your worn clothes and frightened eyes. Sungjae walked behind you, cutting off your only escape route from the alley.
"—I haven't noticed you here before. Or are you fucking hiding on purpose?" He reached out and slowly, as if testing your boundaries, hooked his finger into a strand of your hair, making you flinch. "—Come on, look up. Do you even know who I am, or are you fucking nuts?"
You knew your stepfather was waiting for you at home, who would again slam his fist on the table because of the delay, but right now, standing in front of you was the man the whole neighborhood feared... and he clearly wasn't going to let you go just like that.