Episode 2
The scene shifted—
A strikingly handsome boy stood alone in the corridor, his silky black hair brushing over his eyes. Opposite him, three boys stared him down, their hostility almost tangible. They were all about sixteen or seventeen, dressed in the same school uniform—blue trousers, crisp white shirts, navy blazers, and loosely knotted blue ties hanging carelessly around their necks.
A tense silence lingered for a heartbeat.
Then, without warning, one of the three lunged forward. But the lone boy was faster—his fist shot out, landing squarely on the attacker's jaw. The boy stumbled backward, crashing to the floor. The other two rushed in together, but the lone boy fought with remarkable skill and composure, holding his ground against both of them.
Not far away, a beautiful girl was walking past with her schoolbag slung over her shoulder. She wore the girls' uniform—white shirt, blue skirt, white socks, and polished black shoes. Her long brown hair was tied into a neat apple-style bun. As she passed an old, locked storage room, muffled shouts and the sounds of a scuffle reached her ears.
She frowned.
"That store's been locked for ages… someone's being beaten in there."
Wasting no time, she pulled her phone from her bag, dialed a number, and ducked behind a wall. After a brief moment, she walked away briskly.
Minutes later—
The fight had only grown fiercer. Two boys managed to grab the lone boy's arms, while the third began kicking his legs hard. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.
The leader of the group snatched up a metal rod lying nearby and hurled it toward him—
But before it could land, the sharp wail of a police siren filled the air. Officers stormed into the storage room. The three attackers froze, panic flashing across their faces. The rod clattered to the floor. They tried to flee, but the officers caught all four boys, ushering them into the police van.
At the station, the truth quickly surfaced—the lone boy wasn't the aggressor but the victim, defending himself against three attackers. Even so, the police asked him to give an official statement.
The boy's voice was calm and steady.
"I won't give a statement against them. They're still kids. Their parents must have worked hard to send them to school with hope in their hearts. They made a mistake today, but I won't be the reason their future is ruined. One day, they'll be the ones supporting their families."
The officer was taken aback, momentarily speechless. Then a man in his forties stepped forward from behind, his expression unreadable.
"Stand up, son," he said.
The boy obeyed without hesitation. The man pulled him into a firm embrace, tears of pride glistening in his eyes.
"I'm proud of you, my son."
The boy didn't smile or bask in the compliment. Instead, he gently placed his hands on his father's shoulders, moved him aside, and walked toward the three boys.
By now, their parents had arrived—two men and a woman. The woman stepped forward first, hands folded in apology.
"Please forgive my son," she said through tears.
The boy replied evenly, "Aunty, I've already forgiven them. But on one condition—this will never happen again."
The woman nodded quickly. "Yes… I promise it won't."
"I'm not just talking about your son," he continued. "All three of them must promise."
The two men immediately agreed. "Yes, son, they won't ever do this again."
From their worn clothes, it was clear these parents came from humble backgrounds—one wore a watchman's uniform, the other a laborer's, and the woman's simple scarf and dress spoke of modest means.
The boy turned to the police officer.
"Uncle, please let them go."
The officer gave a brief nod. The cell door was unlocked, and the three boys stepped out, heads lowered in shame. Yet one of them shot the boy a glare filled with unmasked hatred.
As they left, the police returned their phones and ushered them out.
The boy then asked, "Uncle, who told you I was here?"
The officer smiled faintly.
"Son, I can't give you that name. They specifically asked me not to. It's a matter of privacy. I'm sorry, but I can't help you there."