A group of students stood near the lockers, their voices cutting through the noise of the hallway. They were laughing. A boy with curly hair and a bright red jacket stood over another student—a skinny kid wearing glasses.
The black ball inside the boy's stomach continued to slowly expand.
Ivan quickly looked away, his heart pounding. He couldn't stay here.
As he turned his back to slip away, someone appeared at the end of the hallway. It was the history teacher, walking toward them.
"Is there a problem here?"
The boy in the red jacket immediately straightened up.
Ivan slipped into the classroom. He pulled his worn-out notebook from his bag and placed it on the desk.
The final bell rang.
He shoved the notebook back into his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and left.
He rushed through the school doors, walking quickly. Ivan slowed down as he turned onto the street.
Then he saw her.
She was standing near the corner, leaning against a lamppost.
As Ivan approached, she fixed her gaze on him. A small smile formed at the corners of her lips.
"You're late."
He stopped a few feet away from her.
"I didn't know you'd be here."
She pushed herself away from the lamppost and took a step toward him.
"Follow me. Now."
"Where?" he asked, hurrying after her.
"You'll see," she replied without looking back.
"Where are we going? Tell me where!"
She didn't answer. She simply turned onto the street and continued walking.
"Gylou!" he called, louder this time.
As they turned the corner, they heard the sound first.
A sound that repeated several times.
Ivan froze in terror at the sight before him.
The skinny boy—the one who had been cowering beneath the bully's taunts—was crouched on the ground. His glasses were crooked on his face, one of the lenses cracked.
His small hands were gripping a jagged piece of concrete.
He was repeatedly striking the bully's head with it.
The bully lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling beneath his head.
Ivan's breath caught.
Gylou's hand pressed against Ivan's shoulder, her grip strong and cold.
The skinny boy's breathing was ragged, coming in sharp, desperate gasps. He didn't look up. He wasn't crying.
He just kept hitting.
The rock slammed against bone again and again, producing a sound that made Ivan's stomach turn.
"Look at him, Ivan," Gylou whispered, her voice barely audible.
The black ball inside the skinny boy's stomach had become enormous. It spun violently, bleeding into his limbs like ink spreading through water.
The skinny boy froze.
The rock remained pressed against the bully's temple.
Slowly, he raised his head.
His cracked glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing wide, bloodshot eyes completely devoid of emotion.
"You have to kill him."
"What?"
Ivan gasped and stumbled backward.
"Gylou, what are you saying? He's already unconscious! We need to call someone. We need to—"
"He's not unconscious," she interrupted, never taking her eyes off the boy.
She stepped forward.
"Finish it, Ivan."
His hand trembled violently.
He looked at the boy holding the rock, then at the person bleeding on the ground, and finally back at Gylou.
The boy suddenly lunged forward.
His small body propelled itself forward with unnatural speed, his eyes locked onto Ivan.
The rock was still in his hand, raised high above his head.
Ivan stumbled backward and slipped, hitting the ground hard.
He quickly raised his hands, preparing to shield himself from the blow.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain, the blood, the sound of breaking bones.
He opened his eyes.
The jagged rock had shattered into tiny pieces scattered beneath his feet.
His hand was completely unharmed—not even a scratch.
The boy stood frozen, his mouth hanging open.
The black ball inside the boy's stomach flared violently, pulsing with tremendous force.
Gylou moved toward him.
Her hand shot forward.
It passed straight through the boy's chest as though his body were nothing but smoke.
There was no resistance. No sound of flesh tearing.
Only a faint ripple in the air as her fingers entered through his back and emerged from his chest.
The boy's eyes rolled back into his head.
His mouth opened in a silent scream.
Then he collapsed just as quickly.
He hit the ground like a lifeless doll.
The black ball inside him didn't merely pulse.
It exploded, dragging the surrounding shadows toward its center before vanishing completely.
Ivan remained sitting on the ground, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.