CHAPTER 2: D-0

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Jaehyun pressed pause.

The phone went silent.

His jaw tightened—not with anger he understood, but something heavier, stranger. Something that slid under his skin and refused to leave.

He replayed the slap once.

Just once.

And the thing that hit him wasn't judgment.

It was recognition.

That cold precision, that calm violence—that wasn't someone who snapped.

That was someone who decided.

He lowered the phone slowly, eyes lifting to the boys again.

"So." His voice was quiet. "You think this is funny?"

"N-no, I mean—well—"

"It's just a video bro—"

"Everyone knows she's—she's kind of—"

Jaehyun stepped forward once.

They stepped back like dominoes.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.

"That video yours?"

The owner swallowed. "...yes."

Jaehyun held out the phone.

The boy reached—

Jaehyun dropped it.

Hard.

It hit the ground with a crack, screen spidering instantly.

The boy gasped. "YA—!! What the—"

Jaehyun pressed the heel of his shoe down on the phone, grinding it into the pavement until glass crunched.

"You don't get to talk about her," he said quietly. "Not when you weren't even there."

One boy whispered, "Bro, he's insane—"

"Let's just go—" another hissed.

They backed away slowly, then ran—literal running—out of the alley, sprinting so fast one of them tripped and scrambled back up.

Soon the alley was silent again.

Jaehyun stood alone, broken phone at his feet.

He exhaled slowly, long and controlled, like someone letting go of something he didn't realize he was holding.

Then—

A vibration in his pocket.

He pulled out his phone.

Baek Yerin:
How did you get my number?

A smile stretched across his face—slow, involuntary, impossible to suppress.

Of course she'd text like that.

No "?"
No greeting.
No frustration.
Just pure, cold, logical confrontation.

He typed back one word.

Jaehyun:
Guess.

He hit send.

Another buzz.

Yerin:
I dislike imprecision.

Yeah.
He bet she did.

He slid his phone into his pocket and began walking again, but this time there was something different behind his steps.

He wasn't just moving anymore.

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