A Plan in the Wrong Hands
Leo paced behind the gym building, hands in his pockets, fury simmering just below his perfect smile.
He hated being ignored. Hated how Keon looked through him like he wasn't even a threat.
So he did what every overconfident, spoiled kid does.
He looked for backup.
And found the wrong kind.
Three older guys from a different school. Thugs, really. Dropouts who hung around town and always needed pocket cash.
Leo handed one of them a thick envelope.
"I just want him scared," he said. "Corner him. Humiliate him. Maybe rough him up a little. That's it."
The tallest thug smirked.
"No problem, prince."
---
The Trap
After class, Keon got a message.
From Kira:
"You still in the building? Got your notebook. Come by the back gym entrance."
Weird.
Kira never texted that formally.
But Keon's mind was elsewhere — still spinning from Leo's earlier jab, from his uncle's weird silence lately, from Nova trailing him like a shadow.
So he went.
Slipped out the back door.
And walked straight into a trap.
Three guys. Not students. Blocking the exit behind him.
One cracked his knuckles. "You Keon?"
"…Who's asking?"
"Leo says hi."
---
Keon Loses Control
Keon's first punch dropped one of them instantly.
But the others came fast — brass knuckles, kicks, fists that didn't pull punches like high schoolers do.
Keon ducked, spun, landed a brutal elbow into a guy's gut.
But then he got hit in the ribs. Twice.
Pain lit up his side.
He fell to one knee.
One of them raised a pipe—
—and stopped.
Because someone had just grabbed his wrist.
Nova.
Expression unreadable.
Voice ice-cold.
"You picked the wrong student."
---
Aftermath
Minutes later, the thugs were gone — limping, groaning, bleeding.
Nova stood over them like a shadow with a heartbeat.
Keon wiped blood from his lip, breathing hard.
"Leo set that up," he muttered. "He doesn't even realize what he just did."
Nova nodded slowly. "Do you want me to handle it?"
Keon looked down at his bruised knuckles.
"No," he said. "Let me."
---