Amid the scattered debris, the courtyard lights caught the swirling dust still hanging in the air.
Al, who had been sitting quietly, slowly rose to his feet, brushing the remaining dirt off his clothes.
He tilted his head back, exhaling a long breath into the cold night sky before looking toward the group that had begun returning to their own business.
"I don't know who he is, but shouldn't there be an apology if he realizes he's in the wrong?" Al's voice carried a sharp edge of challenge.
It was loud enough for everyone to hear.
The commotion had already died down, and people were ready to move on—yet his words left them irritated, wondering when this matter would truly end.
Still, they knew he had a point. Who would willingly accept being wronged and simply abandoned?
But no one spoke; instead, all eyes remained fixed on Al, waiting to see what the boy would do next.
