Chapitre 2: Ugly duckling II
I was peacefully walking down the path, enjoying the quiet of the afternoon, when I noticed a commotion in a nearby alley. Curiosity piqued, I paused and took a quick glance.
A girl was getting beaten up, her cries muffled by the sounds of the crowd that had gathered to watch. I felt a twinge of annoyance but shrugged it off. It wasn't my problem, after all. I continued my walk toward home, thinking about how I could relax after a long day.
Just as I was about to turn the corner, two kids—more like two fat goons—blocked my path. Their presence was as unwelcome as they were trying to appear imposing. "Where are you going?" one of them asked, his voice dripping with menace. "Take another way, you bastard. Our hyung is having an important discussion," the other chimed in, his tone equally threatening.
I stopped and looked at them, unimpressed. "Look, man, I just want to cross through here. My house is just ahead. You can continue with your boss's important meeting without me in the way." I tried to keep my voice steady, hoping they would back down, after all it was time for my gym session with my trainer Noona.
But they were too far gone in their bravado to listen. "Pretty boy think they own the place," one of them sneered, his face contorting with a ugly expression of anger. Before I knew it, they had caught my collar, dragging me closer to their smirking faces. "What are you looking at, you son of a bi—"
He never got to finish his sentence. With a quick motion, I brought my left hand down sharply on his wrist, breaking it with a sickening crack. His grip loosened, and he fell to his knees, crying out in pain. I barely had time to register his partner's shocked expression before I delivered a swift kick to his gut, sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.
My right hand remained comfortably tucked in my pocket; after all, they looked like some bratty kids trying to throw around tantrums. Their shouts and insults echoed in the air, a cacophony of immaturity that barely registered in my mind. I watched them with a mix of amusement and annoyance, wondering how they found satisfaction in such pathetic displays of power.
The commotion had drawn the attention of everyone in the alley. All eyes were on me, and I could feel the tension in the air. I sighed, realizing I wouldn't be able to walk away peacefully now.
I glanced at the girl, who was struggling to get up from a pile of garbage bags. She had fallen after being slapped by the biggest of the crowd, a classic bully with a smug grin plastered across his face. He seemed to take pleasure in her misery, relishing the power he wielded over her.
"Hey, what are you looking at?" the bully barked, puffing out his chest. The bravado in his voice was laughable to me, and I couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, a big-bellied goon with a little power, trying to assert himself in front of some ugly girls who couldn't care less about his antics.
"Let that girl go," I said tiredly, rubbing my stiff neck. The words slipped out with an air of indifference, as if I were addressing a minor inconvenience rather than a gathering of some wannbe bullies.
The girl looked terrified, her eyes wide as she clutched her arm, clearly shaken by the ordeal. Yet, in a brave attempt to regain some semblance of strength, she put forth a facade of courage, refusing to falter in front of the huge crowd.
The larger goon, his face flushed with anger, took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "You think you can just walk in here and act tough? I'll make you regret that!" he yelled, rallying his crew of thirteen or more goons behind him. Their laughter echoed around us, a pathetic chorus of bravado that only made me roll my eyes.
I didn't care how many of them there were. They were just a bunch of wannabe gangsters throwing tantrums, trying to prove something they clearly lacked.
As the horde charged at me, I quickly assessed the situation. They were coming at me like a pack of rabid dogs, but I have seen worse.
I ducked as the first goon swung a fist at my head, his blow barely grazing my ear. I countered with a swift uppercut, connecting with his chin and sending him staggering backward. Without missing a beat, I spun around, using the momentum to kick another goon square in the chest. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes, groaning in pain.
The remaining goons hesitated for just a moment, giving me the opportunity I needed. I charged forward, dodging another punch aimed at my face. I grabbed the offending arm and twisted it behind the goon's back, pushing him down to the ground. I didn't stop there; as he hit the dirt, I delivered a solid knee to his gut, knocking the wind out of him.
They charged again, but I was ready. I grabbed a nearby trash can lid, using it as a makeshift shield. I deflected a few weak punches, sending the goons reeling back.
One by one, I took them down. I ducked and weaved, using my speed to dodge their attacks while landing precise strikes. A kick to the face here, a punch to the gut there—soon, bodies littered the ground, and the remaining goons started to realize that they were in over their heads.
I was just moving around, not even breaking a sweat, gliding effortlessly as I danced around their clumsy attempts to grab me. They swung wildly, their fists slicing through the air like poorly aimed strikes, but I was literally wiping the floor with them.
Every step I took was precise, fluid—like a predator toying with its prey. I sidestepped one goon's lunge and countered with a swift kick to his midsection, sending him sprawling to the ground. Another tried to grab me from behind, but I ducked under his outstretched arms and pivoted, landing a sharp elbow to his jaw.
I turned to see the girl watching, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. I had to finish this soon. I spotted the goon leader at the back, barking orders like a wounded animal. He was clearly losing control of his gang, and I decided it was time to end this .
With a sudden burst of energy, I charged at him. He looked startled, his bravado slipping as he realized I was coming straight for him.
"Yo-you think you can take me on?" he shouted, but the fear in his voice betrayed him.
I leaped into the air, landing a powerful knee to his face just as he tried to charge at me. The impact sent him rolling across the ground, where he landed in a heap, retching and gasping for air. He rolled through the muck and filth of the alley, vomiting everywhere like a disgusting pig.
As I stood over the last goon, not a speck of dirt on my dress, I felt countless gazes on me. A few of the onlookers took out their mobiles, which made me uneasy. The alley was silent now, the once-vibrant crowd of bullies reduced to a pile of defeated bodies.
I glanced over at the girl, who was now surrounded by another group of girls. The yellow-haired one yanked her hair and asked, "Is he your boyfriend?" She grinned smugly, clearly enjoying the moment.
While I didn't usually beat up girls, I believed in equality; I wasn't some righteous saint. So, I simply nodded and said, "Yeah." It was easier than engaging in that nauseating hero-saving-heroine routine or the whole "bullying is wrong" lecture.
The yellow-haired girl, still clutching the other girl's hair, refused to let go. I flicked her forehead lightly, leaving a red mark, and she let out a painful shriek, sounding like a wounded animal.
"Do you know who my father is?" she whined, her voice dripping with entitlement.
"Ask your mother," I shot back, keeping a neutral face as I turned around, not waiting to see any reaction.
I scooped up the girl in my arms after I saw the injuries on her legs and hand, carrying her like a princess, and strode out of the alley. As I waved down a taxi, it quickly pulled over.
I got in with her, settling her onto my lap. She stared at me, a mix of gratitude and disbelief in her eyes, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. I couldn't help but sigh at the situation. This wasn't exactly how I had imagined my day going, but it is what it is.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone