The morning sunlight barely had a chance to warm the room before Lucas’s voice cut through it.

“WAKE UP, DUMBASS!”

I cracked my eyes open, the brightness making me squint.

“MAKE ME BREAKFAST!” he added, not even trying to be polite.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled into the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Save it and make food. I don’t have time,” Lucas said, leaning on the counter.

“Why didn’t you make your own?” I asked, pulling out pots.

“Too lazy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a better cook than me, though.”

He grinned lazily. “Yeah, but I’ve got a girl waiting.”

“Of course you do.”

“Hey, shut up. It’s the only job I could get with my education and my Korean.”

“I know.”

His tone softened. “Look, kid, I know I’m harsh. But Mom and Dad wouldn’t want us starving, and we don’t exactly have fancy degrees to fall back on.”

“It’s fine, hyung. Let’s just eat.”

When the food was ready, he inhaled it in seconds.

“Eat slower, you’ll choke.”

“I’ll be late.”

“Then go.”

He smirked. “Exactly. Anyway—if anyone bullies you, tell me. I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

A quick “see you,” and he was gone.

After washing the dishes, I threw on my white trainers, white hoodie, brushed my teeth, and smoothed down my hair. Locking the door, I headed to school.

---

The halls felt emptier than usual—most of the seniors were away on a school trip. That meant no shadowy figures lurking to trip me or shove me into lockers. Probably.

I took my usual seat—front row, right by the door. Easy escape route, less eye contact.

The teacher straightened suddenly. “Oh! You must be the new student.”

I turned just in time to see him.

Dark hair, sweater, polite bow—he had that fresh transfer look all over him.

“This is the new student,” the teacher said.

He introduced himself in accented Korean: “Hi, I’m Mark Lee, from Canada. I hope we can be good friends.”

He scanned the room for a seat and ended up in the front row by the window.

The window seat. Of course.

Interesting.

---

I kept my eyes on the board—until something thwacked against the back of my head.

A crumpled paper lay on the floor. I picked it up.

Meet me at the janitor’s closet after class.

Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

---

The janitor’s closet door loomed at the end of the hall, the “KEEP OUT” sign practically shouting trouble.

No one was there. Maybe I was late?

“Hello,” a voice said behind me.

I turned—and instantly wished I hadn’t. He was tall, handsome, and smiling in a way that never meant anything good.

“Were you the one who threw this?” I held up the note.

“Oh yes,” he said.

“What do you want?”

His smirk deepened. “This.”

A punch slammed into my face. Pain exploded as I stumbled back, and before I could react, he shoved me into the closet and locked the door.

Perfect. Stuck.