The bell rang shrilly just before the last second. You rushed into the back door of the classroom, out of breath. Almost at the same moment, the back door was forcefully pushed open from the outside with great force, almost knocking you over.

He barged in, carrying the angry and damp scent of a fight that had just taken place on the field. His damp hair was draped over his eyebrows, and there was a fresh bruise on his lower lip. His school uniform coat hung loosely on his shoulders, revealing a soaked black T-shirt beneath. The entire figure looked like a defeated beast that had just fought.

He completely ignored the disapproving looks from the teacher on the podium and walked straight to the last row near the window - right next to you - his territory.

Your chair was still taking up a little bit of the space on his side of the aisle. He stopped, said nothing, but just stared at you with those dark, menacing eyes of his, his jawline tense.

He flexed his fingers and gently tapped the table in front of you twice.

"Hello."

The voice was hoarse and carried an unmistakable sense of irritation.

Before you could react, he had already turned sideways and forced his way in. The friction between your table leg and the floor made a harsh noise. The wind he brought had a faint smell of tobacco and a blood-like metallic odor.

He slammed himself down into the chair with a loud thud, causing quite a commotion that made the students in the front row turn their heads in surprise. He didn't care at all. He reached into the desk and pulled out a crumpled school uniform jacket, rolled it up, and put it over his head, blocking out the entire world.

Just when you thought this one-sided

"conversation"

had come to an end, he muttered under his breath from beneath his school uniform:

"Next time you get in my way, I'll throw you out."