The classroom froze.
Every laugh, every whisper, every shuffle of paper—gone.
Gun Ha's voice, cold and sharp like a blade, cut through the air:
"You are disturbing me."
A shiver rippled through the students. Some glanced at each other nervously, others leaned forward in disbelief. No one dared to speak.
Chulwoo Min, the self-proclaimed king of bullies, turned slowly toward the source.
His prideful smirk faltered.
Gun Ha was sitting casually on his bench, one leg crossed, game paused in his hand. His full-rimmed glasses glinted, hiding what everyone feared. Those demon eyes.
Chulwoo had been arrogant and cruel since childhood, feeding on the weak like a predator. He had ruled his middle school through fists and fear, and now, in high school, he carried that same pride. But the moment his gaze locked with Gun's… a cold dread gnawed at his chest.
It was like staring into the abyss.
Like looking at a beast from hell, chained only by its own patience.
Chulwoo forced a careful smile, trying to mask the sweat on his palms.
"S-sorry to disturb you, Gun. I'll… take this matter outside."
The class held its breath.
But before Chulwoo could drag the bruised boy out, Gun's voice cut in again—calm, deep, merciless:
"By your idiocy, my phone crashed. I lost points and didn't level up. Now… who's going to pay for it?"
The room turned deathly silent.
Dozens of eyes darted between Gun and Chulwoo.
Chulwoo snapped, his pride clawing at his reason.
"How the fuck should I know—"
Gun didn't let him finish. His voice was absolute:
"I don't care. You pay… or he does."
The tension cracked.
Whispers slithered through the room. Some students smirked, some mocked, and Chulwoo heard it all. His pride burned. His anger boiled.
I'm Chulwoo Min. The king of my school.
He gritted his teeth, his rage clouding the creeping fear.
If he could take Gun down here, in front of everyone—his reputation would skyrocket. Even seniors would bow their heads.
He snarled, pointing at Gun.
"You fucker! I tried to be nice, but if you want a beating like this little shit—then so be it!"
The bullied boy squirmed, terrified.
Gun sighed, resting his chin on his hand.
"Stop bitching. Tell me, which one's going to pay, dipshit?"
That was the last straw.
Chulwoo roared, charging like a bull. His fist swung forward, veins bulging, a strike filled with all his pride and rage. He felt his knuckles crash into Gun's face—solid, satisfying.
A cruel smile curled on his lips.
Got you, fucker.
But then—
The smile froze. His blood ran cold.
Gun hadn't moved an inch. Not a single step back.
And for the first time, the glasses cracked and fell away.
The whole class gasped.
Chulwoo's eyes widened in horror.
Staring back at him were pitch-black eyes with ghostly white irises—a void that promised only one thing: death.
The Ultra Instinct eyes.
The Reverse Eyes.
Chulwoo's legs trembled. His breath caught.
Gun's voice dropped, low and venomous:
"That shade was expensive… you dumbshit."
Then came the strike.
Something heavy—like iron, like a hammer forged in hell—smashed across Chulwoo's face.
He didn't even feel pain. Just weight. Force. Impact.
The next instant, his body slammed into the classroom wall with a deafening crack. The plaster cracked, dust falling around him as his consciousness flickered out.
Silence.
Every student sat frozen, their eyes wide with terror.
Gun Ha bent down calmly, picking up the broken frame of his glasses. He dusted it off, expression unreadable.
The demon eyes lingered in the room.
And no one dared to move.
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