19. Poster

Flailing in the water, Rust’s arms and legs kicked wildly until his head barely broke the surface, his soaked, trembling hands clutching the pool’s edge. In terror, he realized the devils on the shore had no intention of letting him escape so easily—

Sunlight painted their faces with unbridled laughter. These youthful smiles, meant to be full of vigor and life, were now twisted into pure malice.

They seized inflatable batons, and aimed at Rust’s exposed head, raining blows down upon him!

Thud, thud, thud!

The batons sliced through the air, leaving afterimages. Rust took several hits in a single instant; the pain drove him to plunge his head back underwater.

In the midst of laughter and merriment, the backyard pool party suddenly descended into a scene of brutal cruelty.

The baseball players at the poolside swung their arms, their muscular bodies flexing, as the repeated strikes sent water splashing and swirling with each blow. The surface churned with ripples and whirlpools.

Rust struggled amid the chaos, thrashing his hands across the water, his short hair floating like tangled seaweed.

He resembled a drowning, helpless creature.

“Why are they doing this? Who is that poor wretch?” asked a handsome man in curiosity.

“You don’t know? That’s Rust, an eleventh grader. A bookworm, an Asian’s sidekick, a disgusting creep—sneaky and annoying.”

“Last time, they ambushed Karen Takeda with canned herring. To this day, Takeda still smells like filth.”

“And he dares show up at Bob’s birthday party?!”

“But isn’t this torment a bit much?”

“Keep your voice down. Want Bob to hear you? Rust brought this upon himself. He deserves it.”

Most of the young people at the pool laughed along, swept up in the crowd. Yet a few quiet souls pressed their lips together tightly, watching in silence, as if seeing their former selves reflected in the scene.

“Stop!” Bob’s command cut through the air, and the baseball players instantly obeyed.

Bob took a long-handled fishing net, expertly ensnared the exhausted Rust’s head, and dragged him ashore in a deeply humiliating manner.

“Rust, I accept your apology,” Bob said, patting Rust’s wet, pale cheek, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

The struggle for breath had drained Rust’s strength. He spat weakly, his chest heaving, mind blank as paste, heart racing with terror.

They nearly killed me!

So close—so very close to death!

“But that’s not enough. There’s one more thing you need to do. Then—our past grievances will be settled.”

Bob gave a glance