The punch landed squarely on Hannah's face—brutal, raw, and utterly unexpected. The sound cracked through the air, followed by her sharp cry. Blood spilled from her nose, streaking her pale skin, and the alley fell silent for a heartbeat.
Blondie froze, horror flooding his eyes. "Hannah… are you okay? I—I'm sorry! I meant to hit him, not you!" His words tumbled out, frantic, desperate.
But Hannah's tears welled, her voice breaking into a scream. "You bastard!" she cried, clutching her face as sobs overtook her.
Blondie reached out, trembling, but Hannah shoved him away. His chest tightened—he had always carried a secret crush, fragile dreams of her smile. Now, watching her pain, guilt twisted into rage. His voice shook with fury. "You damn brat… let's finish this somewhere else!"
Alexander ignored him, his tone suddenly light, almost mocking, directed at Hannah. "Did he hit that hard? Don't worry—I'll take your revenge. Just tell me how many punches I should land."
Hannah's eyes narrowed, annoyance flashing. "Stay away from me."
Before Alexander could respond, a tall figure stepped forward—Jack. His grip was iron as he yanked Alexander's shirt from behind. "Didn't you hear? Let's go. Unless you want to die here."
From the school gate, the watchman's voice thundered. "Don't spread trouble here, you brats! Go home!"
Alexander's eyes flickered, cold gaze and tension sharp. "Leave the shirt. Let's go."
The group began walking to silent areas.
Alexander, ever composed, handed his handkerchief to Hannah, his tone flirty, mocking. "Wipe your tears. You know Roses are red, violets are blue… and that blondie behind you in bathroom was using his hand thinking about you."
Blondie's face flushed crimson. "Hey! I'm not—what are you saying are you out of your mind?"
Hannah's lips trembled, then broke into a smile. Laughter spilled out as she took the handkerchief. "That line is outdated, but good try. Since when did you become a playboy? Back then, you were just a clown."
Alexander carried the momentum, voice dramatic. "Don't tell me you've started liking me."
Hannah's cheeks reddened. "No, I'm not!"
Blondie's jealousy burned hotter, his voice venomous as he whispered to his boys. "Today, we beat him to pulp."
Alexander caught the words, his smile fading into sharp focus. He pulled out his phone, sent a quick message, then tucked it away.
Hannah noticed. "Who are you messaging? Asking for help? They're really going to beat you badly. I can stop them if you want." She giggled, half‑teasing.
Alexander placed both hands behind his head, smirked. "Really? You can stop them? But don't you want revenge for that punch? I can land one for you."
Hannah shook her head. "No. That was an accident. But seriously—they're going to outnumber you."
Alexander's tone shifted, calm but probing. "Anyway… who were you planning to bully today?"
Hannah hesitated, then admitted. "Just some moron like you used to be. But I'll admit—you've changed. You're taller now."
They reached a secluded corner, shadows stretching long.
Alexander's expression hardened. "Let's begin our party."
In a flash, Alexander used ghost step, closing the distance with Blondie. His right fist shot upward, slamming into Blondie's stomach. The boy coughed violently, unprepared. Alexander didn't stop—his left fist hammered the same spot, forcing Blondie to bend over. With precision, Alexander's kick snapped across his face, sending him sprawling, writhing in agony.
Jack roared, charging forward with a punch. Alexander blocked, sliding back. His mind raced. I need to dodge most attacks. It's my First time against so many… recall every strategy.
Jack and three others lunged together. Alexander retreated, weaving through their strikes, but soon found himself cornered.
Hong, short‑haired and medium height , threw a punch. Alexander's lips curled into a smile—he had been waiting. Ghost step carried him forward, neck tilting just enough to dodge. His palm clamped onto Hong's face, his leg blocked Hong's, and with a sharp twist, he hurled him down.
Hong's head smacked against the pavement. Alexander followed with a swift kick to his face, creating distance. He raised his fists, boxing stance sharp, eyes burning. "Two down. Three left."
Hannah, watching, was stunned. Is he trained in martial arts? He was flirting a moment ago, but now… he's someone else entirely.
Then Alexander grabbed a PVC pipe, wielding it like a sword. He pointed it at Jack, stepping forward with menace.
The remaining two boys faltered, fear creeping into their eyes.
Jack sneered. "You're a boxer. I saw your stance. I'm a boxer too. Let's fight properly. These two won't interfere."
Alexander's voice was cold. "Fine. But tell Spansher and Olley to carry Blondie and Hong to Hannah. And don't interfere."
Olley raised his hand, lifting Blondie. Spansher carried Hong. They moved toward Hannah.
Alexander's smile turned eerie. He swung the pipe, striking both Olley and Spansher's legs, then delivered a final blow to their waists. Both collapsed, groaning.
Jack's fury erupted. "Why?! They surrendered!"
Alexander tossed the pipe aside. "Insurance. So they don't attack when I'm out of stamina."
Jack snarled. "I'll make you pay!" He launched a cross punch.
Alexander's eyes tracked the strike. He stepped back. The safest dodge is retreat. But…
Ghost step carried him forward. He countered with a punch, but Jack dodged easily. "You're immature. Your attacks have power, but your form sucks." Jack's uppercut smashed into Alexander's face.
Alexander staggered, dizzy, but forced composure. It's not the time to feel pain. I don't want to just win—I want to dominate.
Jack pressed forward relentlessly. Alexander lowered his guard, bouncing lightly, hopping left and right. Jack frowned, confused, but still charged.
Alexander's voice rang out. "Do you know what's most important in a fight? Not power, not speed, not form—it's courage."
As Jack's punch neared, Alexander dropped low, almost sitting. In a burst, he sprang upward, fist crashing into Jack's chin with brute force.
Jack's body lifted, then collapsed, knocked out cold.
Alexander's breaths came heavy, sweat dripping, but a smile tugged at his lips. His first knockout.
Then—the wail of sirens. Police cars screeched to a halt. Within seconds, four officers rushed into the alley, their presence cutting the fight short.