"If a fish climbs out of the water to tell you the crocodile is sick and the river is safe... only a fool would believe it."
After witnessing Kairin's dual persona and Yino's calculated masks, Yohan was forced to accept a hard truth: in this new environment, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. But looking at the girl with the blue bell-shaped earrings and the nervous ponytail, it was hard to imagine a dark motive. Beneath that soft exterior, she seemed genuinely incapable of malice—a translucent, honest "cinnamon roll" in a room full of sharks.
Slumped against the back wall of the classroom, Yohan finally allowed himself a moment of rest. The searing pain in his ribs had dulled to a rhythmic throb. His "Inhale, Exhale, Ignore" mantra was doing the heavy lifting, acting as a mental bridge until the painkiller fully kicked in.
Yet, a different kind of irritation nagged at him. Why had that girl helped him? And more importantly...
"What is her problem?" Yohan wondered, his eyes narrowing. "She's been staring our way for the last five minutes. Is it an crush?" His heart gave a cynical thud. "Romance is a distraction I don't need."
The teacher entered, the lesson blurred past, and thirty-five minutes later, the bell shrieked to signal the start of recess.
One by one, students filtered out in laughing clusters. Yohan kept his eyes locked on Yino. The Enforcer stood up and swept out of the room with his crew, acting as if Yohan didn't even exist.
"Hah, figures," Yohan thought, pushing himself up. "If they had business with me, they would have cornered me five minutes before class. For now, I'm yesterday's news."
He stepped into the hallway, turning right toward the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl with the blue bell earrings heading left with a group of classmates. Yohan glanced back just once; in that exact second, she turned her head to look at him, then whipped her face forward in a panic the moment their eyes met.
Yohan didn't dwell on it. He had a more pressing appointment. He wasn't meeting Kairin to learn about the Wheeler brothers' history—he was meeting her to figure out what game she was playing.
The gymnasium sat to the left of the main building, separated by a thin line of trees. Yohan didn't want to stand in the sun like a target in front of the gym doors. Instead, he found a seat in the shade of the trees near a stone wall. He popped the tab on a can of Coke, his eyes fixed on the path, waiting for Kairin to emerge from the main building.
Twenty minutes crawled by. No Kairin.
"Is she inside?" he muttered. He checked the gym—nothing but guys playing ball and shouting.
Stepping back out, a flare of genuine annoyance rose in his chest. "Unbelievable. She breaks her word on the very first day." This was the first time Yohan had actually waited for someone. He didn't need her info—he could dig up dirt on his own, though that bordered on stalking. But he was trying to keep his hands clean; a suspension now would be a waste of time.
He decided to scrap the meeting and head back to the main building. But then, the rhythm of the afternoon shattered.
Near the school gates, a girl with a backpack was hurrying away, clearly skipping the rest of the day to go home. It was Kairin.
For a second, Yohan's mind went blank. Kairin's eyes met his for a fleeting heartbeat—a look of sharp, silent recognition—but she didn't stop. She didn't say a word. She just kept moving, faster now.
Yohan began to follow, maintaining a careful distance so as not to draw eyes. He reached the gate just in time to see Kairin stop next to a stranger on a high-end sports bike, his face hidden behind a dark visor. After a brief, hushed exchange, Kairin climbed onto the pillion seat, and the bike roared to life, tearing away into the city traffic.
By the time Yohan reached the curb, the bike was a shrinking dot in the distance. He'd lost her.
"Oi!"
The shout came from the opposite direction. Yohan spun around. Parked across the street was another biker, but this one didn't have a helmet on. The face was familiar.
"Red-head?" Yohan blurted out.
It was the guy from the convenience store—the one who had mocked him over the price of cigarettes the night before.
"You watching that bike pick up the girl?" the man asked, running a hand through his shock of crimson hair.
Before Yohan could answer, the man gestured to the back of his seat. Within seconds, Yohan was on the back, and the bike was screaming through the streets. The wind roared against Yohan's unhelmeted ears, a deafening whistle that drowned out the city. Pedestrians were a blur of color as the Red-head leaned the bike into a massive, tire-smoking drift around a corner.
They were gaining. Yohan spotted Kairin's bike turning into a side street. His driver didn't slow down; he cut through the wind like a blade, weaving through the urban maze with terrifying precision.
Finally, the chase ended in front of a two-story house. Kairin's bike came to a halt. Yohan's spine went rigid, but the Red-head kept driving, passing them as if they were just looking for a parking spot.
"Are you crazy? They're right there!" Yohan hissed.
The man ignored him, pulling into a narrow, shadowed alleyway and killing the engine. They dismounted in silence. From their position in the alley, Yohan realized they were perfectly placed—hidden from view, yet close enough to hear everything.
The Red-head placed a heavy hand on Yohan's shoulder. "Listen, kid. Don't speak until you know the facts. The elders are usually right. You're smart... I could tell just by looking at you."
Yohan started to protest, "But—"
"My house is right down this alley," the man interrupted, turning away. "The key is hanging from the handle. Return the bike to me at the store this evening. Now get back to school; recess is almost over."
He disappeared into the shadows, leaving a stunned Yohan behind. Yohan shook off the confusion and focused on the street.
Kairin was standing by the bike, her face pale. The biker, still wearing his helmet, kept the engine idling.
"Kairin, I'm repeating myself," the biker's voice was muffled but stern. "Do not argue with your brother. Listen to everything he says. Give him his answers. Do not push him."
Kairin nodded, her expression uncharacteristically haunted, and hurried inside the house. The biker kicked the stand up and sped away.
Yohan climbed onto the Red-head's bike and thumbed the starter. He knew where she lived now. But the board had just grown more crowded. Who was the biker? A close associate of the Boss?
And then there was the Red-head. A convenience store clerk who just happened to live in the same neighborhood and possessed the skills of a professional racer?
Manhattan wasn't just a cage. It was a labyrinth of secrets, and Yohan had just found a new thread to pull.