My Adorable Little Rascal

The hallway is bustling with students rushing to class, laughter echoing off the walls. Yet in a quiet corner of Building B, two girls are making their way back to class after settling into their dorm room.

Skylar walks slightly ahead, her face calm and unreadable. Sunny skips beside her, talking nonstop about how she decorated her side of the room, about the flowers on her bedsheets, and how she brought a mini fridge stuffed with soda.

They walk along the pristine corridor—its white tile floor gleams under the soft sunlight pouring through the windows. The sky is still blue. The sunlight still filters through the leaves.But at least… to Skylar, it doesn't feel quite as terrifying or sickening as before.

Suddenly—

Two boys step out from behind a corner, blocking their path.

They're tall. Year twos. Loose ties, untucked shirts, and a cloud of cigarette smoke hanging around them. Tattoos creep up their necks, and one of them flicks a lighter in his hand like it's a toy.

Their eyes scan the girls from top to bottom—lingering in places they shouldn't.

One of them smirks, lips curling into a greasy grin: "Oh… two lovely ladies. Perfect match for us, don't you think? What do you say, huh? Just a thousand per night."

Skylar doesn't flinch.

Sunny doesn't even blink.

Instead… they smile.

Sunny tilts her head, lips curling into a mocking smirk: "And who gave you that much confidence, huh? Sorry, but only guys who are both hot and talented ever catch my eye—or my angel's here." She jabs a thumb at Skylar: "You two? You don't even qualify as ants."

The air turns cold.

The taller boy grits his teeth and steps forward, ready to "teach her a lesson."But—

"WHAM!"

A foot slams into his face. His body jerks back and crashes onto the floor.

"Aaaagh!!!"

Skylar lowers her leg slowly.

Her eyes are ice. Her lips form a polite, gentle smile. But in her hand… is an invisible blade.

She looks down at the guy squirming on the floor like a crushed bug.

"I'm sorry for kicking that hard," she says coolly: "but you said things you shouldn't have… and looked where you shouldn't have."

The other boy roars and lunges forward.

But he doesn't get far—Sunny sweeps his legs out from under him with a single move.

"BAM!"

He falls flat on his face. His ears burn red with embarrassment.

He scrambles to his feet and yells: "You little—! This isn't over! We'll get you for this!"

Sunny waves at him, voice chipper: "Sure, we'll wait! Watch your step, though—trip and fall again, and you might bruise that ego!"

The two run off, one dragging the other behind him.

—

From the other side of the hall… someone is watching.

Julian Jiang had been walking by when he saw the two upperclassmen cornering Skylar and Sunny.

He froze.

"If… I jump in to help them, would that count as repaying her a bit?" He took a step forward, eyes focused.

But then—

WHACK!

The sound of Skylar's kick echoed through the hall. Julian's foot halted mid-step.

His eyes narrowed, analyzing everything:

That… wasn't a reckless attack. No extra movement. No lost balance. That kick was clean, practiced, and timed.

His brows draw closer:

She's trained. Not just in self-defense. That was technique… and repetition. What could've made her need something like that?

A high school girl shouldn't need to fight like that to survive… unless she's been through hell.

Before he can finish the thought, the second boy lunges—only to get faceplanted by Sunny.

Julian watches silently.

Then turns around.

No words. No emotion. Just quiet steps leading him away from the scene.

Still… a single drop of sweat glides down his temple:

Mental note… never piss that girl off.

Or her roommate, either.

—

Back at the scene, Skylar turns to Sunny, voice still soft but now tinged with concern:"Hoan Hoan… are you okay?"

Sunny's eyes shine like floodlights. She grins teasingly: "Oh... My little angel finally cares about someone! But don't worry, I'm totally fine!"

Before Skylar can reply, Sunny grabs her hand: "Come on! We'll be late for class!"

Skylar blinks, caught off guard. And then—

She smiles.

A real smile.

The kind that doesn't hide pain. The kind that isn't forced. The kind that warms the chest and softens the air.

In that moment, she thinks: Maybe… I've found the right people.

And in the gentlest tone she's ever used: "Yeah… let's go."

The hallway opens ahead of them. The sound of footsteps. The breeze. And somewhere behind her, the echoes of fear fade a little more.