After school ended
Yamo said goodbye to his brother and the others and immediately broke into a run the moment he stepped outside the school doors.
"You can do it!" someone shouted.
"Run, Yamo, run!" another voice followed.
A group of cheerleaders laughed near the parking lot. "Hey, Yamo, baby! Want a ride with us?"
"No, thanks!" Yamo called back without slowing down. "I'm a good kid!"
This had become routine. Every day, he ran straight from school toward his part-time job at the pizzeria, using momentum to outrun conversations, expectations, and anything that tried to cling to him.
Yamo was exceptionally well-liked among students. He was enjoyable to converse with. He was kind, attractive, physically fit, receptive to suggestions regarding the vending machines, and he earned the school trophies.
But like always, today his escape was intercepted.
She stood near the school gate as if she had been waiting there all along.
Anna.
Black hair, black eyes—just like his. She was around 170 cm (5'7"), only slightly shorter than Yamo's 175 cm (5'9"), which somehow made her presence feel closer than it should have been.
She had a beautiful figure, the kind that drew attention without effort, and she wore a red flower dress that contrasted sharply with her dark hair and eyes, making her stand out even among the crowd of students leaving school.
When Yamo saw her, his bright expression dimmed almost instantly.
When Anna saw him, her face lit up.
Total opposites.
"Yamo darling," she said warmly, stepping forward with a smile that was soft, affectionate… and just a little too intense.
"Big sister came to take you to work." She lifted a small bag. "I brought food too. A new recipe of those chicken sandwiches I made for you last time."
Yamo felt his shoulders tense.
"T-thank you, Anna," he said, already reaching for the sandwich. "See you."
Before she could respond, he turned and ran.
He ate while running, barely tasting it, his mind already calculating distance and time to reach work.
When he glanced back, he saw Anna rush to her car, clearly intending to follow him—but she never made it out of the school parking lot.
Other students were pulling out at the same time, cars clogging the exit, forcing her to stop and wait.
Anna leaned forward over the steering wheel, eyes locked on Yamo's back as he disappeared down the street.
He didn't slow down. He didn't wave and for the first time that day, he felt a small, guilty sense of relief.
Half an hour later, Yamo arrived at the pizzeria and immediately clenched his shirt.
His chest was burning. Another part of his body was burning too.
'That bitch spiked my sandwich again.'
His face was flushed red, but he stepped inside the pizzeria anyway.
"Hello, boss," Yamo greeted.
The owner of the pizzeria, Franky, nodded back. Yamo quickly went into the back, changed into his work clothes, and tied his apron. While fastening his belt, his eyes drifted to a familiar spot.
Behind a towel, under a bucket was a small black object.
Yamo sighed, grabbed it, opened the back, and removed the memory card and batteries before stuffing them into his pocket.
Again.
He stepped back into the lobby.
Franky Furko, his boss stood behind the counter. Two meters tall, bald, arms as thick as Yamo's legs, scars running across his forearms.
He's a former member of the Italian mafia who had left that life behind after meeting his wife Sakura, a Japanese exchange student who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Their love story was straight out of a movie.
"Boss," Yamo said, rubbing his face. "She did it again. Spiked my sandwich. Filmed me. Again!"
Franky sighed heavily. "Kid… I tried everything. My wife and I even sent her to two different therapists. I don't know when she became this twisted."
Yamo put his hand on Franky's shoulder trying to comfort him. "Maybe it's just a phase. Puberty hormones."
It looked ridiculous — a 175 cm teenager placing a hand on the shoulder of a 2-meter-tall middle-aged man — and a couple of regulars snickered from their tables.
'Wait. Why am I comforting him? I'm the victim.'
Ding. Ding.
The bell hung above the door chimed, signalling a customer coming or going.
Yamo instantly straightened, put on his professional smile, and spoke gently.
"Welcome to Franky's Pizza Palace—"
His smile vanished. Anna walked in.
Black hair. Black eyes. Perfect figure. That beautiful, dangerous smile.
"Hello, Yamo darling," she said sweetly. "Did you miss me?"
Several men — and even a few women — visibly blushed. Yamo, on the other hand, leaned closer and hissed quietly,
"If you do that again, I'm suing you and quitting."
Anna gently placed her hand on his cheek and whispered seductively and slow.,
"Dear. I love your rock hard principles. But I know you'd never do that to my dad."
Her smile widened. "Just accept me already. Let's lose our flower together. Motel, or just the back room. I'll take care of your…big problem quickly."
Yamo flinched hard.
'Teenage hormones plus whatever she put in my food is a deadly combination.'
He brushed her hand away from his cheek and pulled the camera out of his pocket and lightly slammed it onto the counter.
Anna leaned back, eyes flicking to the camera she had hidden behind a towel under a bucket.
"Next time," Yamo said calmly, "I break it."
Anna snickered softly. "You're so cute when you are angry."
Before Yamo could respond, she slipped past him, disappeared into the back, and came out a moment later wearing an apron.
She tilted her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and smiled in a way that made several young men forget their own names.
Yamo stared at her with open disgust. Franky sighed so deeply it sounded like his soul was trying to escape his body.
Despite everything, work continued like it always did. Anna handled the counter, the phone, and serving. Franky made pizzas and washed dishes. Yamo worked the oven, deliveries and other miscellaneous tasks .
From the outside, it almost looked normal. And that was the frustrating part. Anna used to be genuinely helpful. Efficient. Polite. Even professional.
When she first started helping out, business had actually gone up. She was friendly without being weird, quick with orders, and customers loved her.
Then one day, overnight, something flipped. Now every smile lingered too long, every word came with double meaning, and every shift ended with Franky apologizing or beating someone up.
An hour passed before the first new customer made the classic mistake.
"Excuse me," a young guy said, flashing his white teeth and good looks at the counter.
"Pretty lady, can I get your number?" Normally, this was where Yamo stepped in. He had done it countless times before—calm voice, polite smile, quick redirection.
It kept things smooth and prevented Franky from crossing the line, but since Anna changed, Yamo stayed quiet.
Anna smiled. "You are excused."
The guy blinked. "Huh?" He tried again. "I mean… maybe you stop working here, and I give you the luxury you deserve?"
Yamo snorted before he could stop himself. Anna glanced sideways at him and smiled genuinely for a split second.
'Cute,' she thought. "Thank you," Anna said sweetly, turning back to the customer, "but I'm not interested."
The guy scoffed. "Tch. Whatever. You're ugly anyway, bitch." He turned to leave.
Yamo sighed. "Ah. There it is." A massive hand grabbed the man's shoulder.
He looked up. Two full meters of bald, scarred muscle loomed over him, veins bulging.
"Dear customer," Franky said calmly, already dragging him toward the door, "let's talk about our special discounts in the alley."
Get him, Franky!" "Show him what happens when you insult Anna!" Applause broke out from two regulars.
The door slammed shut behind Franky and the unlucky customer.
Another normal day at Franky's Pizza Palace.
Yamo grabbed a delivery box and shook his head.
"You know, you could've been nicer to him. The poor guy is going to need a dentist. You didn't even tell him you're underage."
Anna crossed her arms and tilted her head, smiling innocently. "Oh? Like you tell all the women that you're fifteen?"
"That's different," Yamo replied immediately. "I don't flirt with them."
Anna snorted. "Please. They flirt with you. You just stand there looking polite and mysterious like some tragic romance novel character."
"That's not my fault," Yamo shot back. "And at least I'm honest when it matters."
"Oh really?" Anna leaned closer, lowering her voice. "So when exactly does it 'matter'?
Before or after they tip extra?"
Yamo paused. "…We get better tips when I don't mention it," he admitted. "And they come back more often. Unlike you, I'm not the reason the boss beats up every third customer."
He meant every word. Ever since Anna had changed, business had actually gone down.
At first, having her help had been great. She was efficient, polite, quick on the phone, and customers loved her. Back then, Yamo barely had to step in.
Then one day, it was like someone flipped a switch. Now every shift ended with Franky cracking his knuckles.
Anna huffed. "You're exaggerating."
"I'm not," Yamo said flatly. "Before, you handled guys like that quietly. Now they leave missing teeth."
Anna smiled again, slow and teasing. "So you're saying you miss being my hero?"
Yamo groaned our of frustration. "No. I miss peace."
She stepped closer, arms spreading wide. "Come here, then. Let this big sister comfort you."
Yamo took one look at her and sighed. "As if."
He slung the delivery box over his shoulder. "I'm out. Back in ten."
As he headed for the door, he added without turning around, "And seriously, stop filming me. That's creepy."
Anna watched him go, her smile never fading. "You're still eating my food though."
"…Unfortunately," Yamo muttered as the door closed behind him.
'Where is the sweet girl who supported me mentally and visited my family from time to time. Now every word with her feels like a fight or attempt to seduce me.
I'm thankful she didn't come transfer schools, maybe she would go full Yandere and hurt every girl who sends me a love letter.'
Yamo walked around the corner into an alley and flew up. He then delivered all the pizzas quickly.
**
"End of shift, kiddo. See you tomorrow," Franky said, bumping his fist against Yamo's.
"See you tomorrow," Yamo replied, bumping back.
He headed into the back room to change, shoulders finally relaxing now that the oven heat and customer noise were behind him.
As he pulled off his apron and reached for his bag, his eyes drifted—almost on reflex—to the same stupid corner.
Behind the towel. Under the bucket. There it was.
Again.
Yamo stared at the camera for a long second, then sighed. "At this point, you're not even trying."
He popped the back open, took out the memory card and batteries, and slipped them into his pocket like he was collecting evidence for a future court case he really didn't want to file.
After taking of his red work shirt and throwing his clothes into his backpack, he turned—
And froze.
Anna stood in the doorway. She gaze falling on Yamo's muscles, veins and well defined six-pack.
"Seriously?" Yamo groaned. "Do you ever give up?" Yamo quickly put on his black shirt.
She smiled with flushed red cheeks, calm and unbothered. "Why would I?"
Yamo rubbed his face. "Is it me you actually like, or just my body? Because if you cared about me, you'd listen when I say stop."
Inside, he was already smirking.
'Ten years too early. You're not winning this one.'
Anna tilted her head, eyes glinting. "Both," she said cheerfully. "But don't worry. I'm patient."
"Ma'm. I'm too young for you" Yamo shot back.
"Hehe. The law says different." Anna's gaze shifted down from his six pack to another region.
"That's the scary part." Yamo muttered.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, half changed with white flower stains on his pants and shoes, he grabbed three full boxes of leftover mixed pizzas, and walked past her without waiting for a response.
Outside, the evening air was cool, the sky painted orange and purple as the sun dipped low. Yamo took a bite from one of the boxes as he walked, chewing thoughtfully.
'She's actually losing it. Full yandere in slow motion.'
He shook his head. 'If today goes well… I quit.'
He kept walking, eating two of the three pizzas before he even reached home, the city humming quietly around him like it always did.