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"What made you think I'd do that?" Noah asked, chuckling as he inhaled, the smoke curling out between his teeth. "Do I look like some kind of thug to you — going to beat up your dad?" He leveled a challenging look at Yogesh, cigarette pinched between his fingers.
Yogesh didn't meet his eyes. He took a steady drag and answered flatly, "Do you think I don't know things about you?" He exhaled. "I looked into you when you were absent from school." He finished the puff, then turned slowly to face Noah, confidence set in his jaw. "I couldn't find much — but one thing's clear." He leaned in. "You're powerful. Dangerous. That innocent face hides something darker. Something you're scared to show Di."
Noah's eyes flickered, surprise caught for a heartbeat before he crushed the cigarette filter beneath his shoe and let out a short, humorless laugh. "Was that supposed to be funny?" he asked, voice iced.
"No." Yogesh's stare hardened. "I don't joke about Di. You're not ordinary. You're—" He searched for the word, then said, "—more than what meets the eye."
Noah stopped laughing. He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched Yogesh with a calm that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't know why you'd think that," he said evenly. "I'm ordinary. I'm just a guy. How could you—think I'm dangerous?"
"Jeezzz." Yogesh made an annoyed sound that cut the air. "Like I'll buy that." His phone buzzed against his palm; he grabbed it without looking away from Noah. "Hello?"
"Your father got out of jail," Aunt Rashmi's voice crackled through the line, low and worried.
"WHAT?!" Yogesh shouted, panic shredding through him. He started pacing, hands clenching at his sides. Noah watched him, the expression on his face going darker, colder. "When did this happen? How did he get out in just a few hours? He was supposed to be held for at least a month—he was caught red-handed."
"I don't know how," Aunt Rashmi replied, voice hollow. "I got call from the station. His lawyer — a friend of his — arranged bail. They said it was ordered from higher up, so they had to let him go."
"Higher ups?" Yogesh stopped mid-step. "Since when does my dad know anyone with higher—? He's just a drunk."
"I don't know," she said, exhausted. "I called to tell you to stay with Yunah. I'm with your mother, so don't leave her side, okay?"
"Okay." Yogesh gripped the phone, knuckles white. "I'll take care of Di."
There was a soft hum of acknowledgment before the line cut.
Noah stepped closer, the garden air suddenly thin around him. His expression had sharpened into something dangerous, his voice a quiet blade. "He got bailed out?"
Yogesh, distracted by his worry, nodded without noting the change in Noah's demeanor.
"Who arranged it?" Noah asked, voice low and patient — and far too cold.
"I have to go." Yogesh didn't answer. He ran towards the hospital entrance, leaving Noah standing alone in the garden, the bite of his stare lingering in the empty space.
Noah raked a hand through his hair in frustration, then pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. He lit another cigarette, the flame like a small rebellion in the dark.
"Ashish."
"Young master. Do you need anything? I'm at the hospital parking." The voice on the other end was deferential, calm.
Noah inhaled. The smoke eased through him and his words came out hard and controlled. "Find out who got Yunah's father bailed," he ordered. "And also find the location of her father. I need to settle score with him. Nobody lays a hand on Yunah. Not her parents. Not anyone. Not even me."
"Yes, young master." Ashish's voice was immediate, obedient. "I'll find him and pick you up."
Noah stubbed the cigarette out with a clipped motion, his jaw set. In the hush after the call, the mix in his voice was unmistakable: possessiveness braided with hurt, fierce protectiveness, and a quiet, menacing promise. Seeing Yunah hurt had cut deeper than he liked to admit — and he wasn't done.
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An hour later, Ashish's car rolled to a stop in front of JAVA Club. The neon lights flickered against the windshield, painting the night in restless red and blue.
In the back seat, Noah sat perfectly still — arms folded, expression carved in ice. It was the silence before the storm.
Moments later, Yunah's father stumbled out of the club, reeking of alcohol. He could barely stand, his steps uneven, muttering nonsense as he swayed.
"There he is," Ashish said, glancing at the rearview mirror.
Noah didn't respond. He reached for the black hoodie beside him, pulling it on with slow precision. Then came the cap, the black mask, the gloves — every motion deliberate, quiet, lethal.
When he finally opened the car door, his voice was low and sharp enough to freeze the air.
"Wait here. Don't let anyone near that alley." He commanded.
"Yes, young master," Ashish replied quickly, already tensed while Noah walked away, his footsteps soundless against the pavement.
As soon as he was close enough, he seized Yunah's father by the collar and yanked him into the dark alleyway. The man barely had time to react before his back hit the cold, hard wall with a thud.
Noah's hand wrapped around his throat, pressing hard — suffocating him without mercy. His bloodshot eyes gleamed beneath the shadow of the cap, veins standing out against his neck. Every muscle trembled with restrained fury.
He wanted to kill him. But he couldn't — not her father.
Yunah's dad struggled weakly, wheezing, his voice broken. "L-let g-go… w-who the hell are you—"
"I…" Noah's grip tightened, knuckles whitening. Then he hurled the man to the ground, his voice a low growl. "I'm someone who wants to kill you right now. But…" His gaze flicked to a thick wooden stick nearby. He picked it up slowly, the weight of it heavy in his hand. "…I can't. So, since I can't kill you, I'll settle for something else." He spun the stick lightly, testing its balance.
"W-wait—wait, please!" The man scrambled back, eyes wide. "What do you want? Money? I'll give you money—"
Noah chuckled darkly, resting the stick on his shoulder. "Do I look like a thief to you?"
"Then what the hell do you want from me?!" The man's voice cracked between fear and defiance. "What did I even do to you?!"
"What did you do?" Noah's smile curved into something dangerous. "You touched what's mine."
The stick came down hard — a brutal crack. Blood spilled instantly from the man's forehead as he cried out in pain.
"Ahhh—please! Stop! I don't even know who you're talking about! I haven't hurt anyone!. You must have misunderstood me for someone" Yunah's dad pleaded, trembling in pain and fear.
"Misunderstood?" Noah pressed his boot down on the man's hand. Bones creaked. "You forgot what you did, huh?" His voice turned cold. "You kicked her. In the stomach. So hard she bled inside."
He stepped on the man's stomach — once, twice, then again and again, each blow sharper, crueler. "Now it's your turn."
The man gasped, curling up in agony, but Noah didn't stop until his breaths came out ragged and his rage had nowhere left to go.
Finally, Noah dropped the stick and crouched beside him. Blood dripped from the man's lip; his body barely moved. Noah patted his cheek lightly, almost mockingly.
"That," he said, voice low but calm now, "is what happens if you touch her again."
He leaned closer, eyes burning through the mask. "If you ever need money, you come to me. But you don't lay a finger on her. Ever. She's mine. And no one—" his tone softened, but the danger in it doubled "—not even me, gets to hurt her."
He stood, shoving his hands back into his pockets, his gaze lingering on the broken man. There was love in that fury, possessiveness in that pain — a chaos even Noah himself couldn't fully name.