"Ghk—cough! cough!"
"A rough, choking cough tore from his throat."
Pain shot through his ribs.
A kick hit his side again.
"Get up."
"Stop pretending you bastard."
Laughter.
His vision blurred.
…Hell?
A weak thought.
So this is hell…
Another voice laughed.
"Yeah. Welcome."
A hand grabbed his collar.
He was lifted.
Barely standing.
"Listen carefully."
The voice was cold.
"If you're not here tomorrow…"
A pause.
"…you're done."
He was dropped.
Hard.
Metallic taste filled his mouth.
"…Enough."
A voice cut through.
Footsteps approached.
"Stop."
She stepped in.
Mu Lin.
Her gaze—
Sharp.
Unyielding.
The air shifted.
One of them clicked his tongue.
"…Tch."
Another glanced at her.
Then at Tia.
A brief pause.
Calculation.
"…Not worth it."
"Let's go."
"Tch. Lucky bastard."
They turned—
And left.
Not in a hurry.
But without looking back.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Mu Lin didn't move immediately.
Then—
She dropped to her knees beside him.
Her hands hovered.
Uncertain.
"…Tia."
A little softer.
"…Tia, can you hear me?"
No response.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"…Damn it."
"Stay with me, okay?"
*****
At the infirmary....
"Aunty, I think he's badly hurt."
Mu Lin stepped forward.
The nurse barely turned.
"Oh. Him again."
She pointed.
"Same bed."
"Go back to class."
Mu Lin hesitated.
Then—
Bell rang.
"…Please take care of him."
She left.
The nurse cleaned his wounds.
Her movements were tired.
"Seriously…"
"Do you want to die young?"
A pause.
"You were here yesterday too."
Tia froze slightly.
Yesterday…?
"…I didn't—"
A sting cut his thought.
"Stay still."
Later—
He left.
Alone.
No escort.
No support.
Just pain.
The street felt too loud.
He stopped.
Hands shaking.
"…Get it together."
A pause.
"…This isn't real."
He walked again.
But the street—
Shifted slightly.
He moved towards it.
Infront a gate stood.
Black iron.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
His hand moved.
Opened it.
The house stood still.
Unchanged.
Quiet.
"…We moved out years ago."
His voice was lower now.
Uncertain.
He walked inside.
Clean.
Warm silence.
Memory-like.
Too perfect.
Then—
A door.
He stopped.
Slowly turned the handle.
The room—
Was his.
But filthy.
Trash.
Clothes.
Old paper.
Like it had been left in his previous life.
His breath slowed.
"…No…"
The mirror stood in the corner.
Still.
Waiting.
He walked forward.
Slowly.
Each step heavier than the last.
His reflection came closer.
Closer.
Then—
He stopped.
A breath caught in his throat.
"…This…"
His eyes widened.
"…can't be real."
His knees gave out.