There were voices belonging to the people who watched the fight. The rough-looking man was quite famous but for the wrong reasons. Words like ‘human trash’ and ‘scum of the earth’ occasionally passed between the viewers’ mouths.

“What are you all looking at, you bastards!”

The man glared at his audience and pressured them. All the onlookers quickly turned their eyes away. He clearly talked like a gangster, and soon his eyes landed on Zich. Perhaps, he didn’t like the way Zich was looking at him. He focused his eyes and glared at Zich. Anyone could see that he was a second away from making provocations. 

Normally, Zich would have glared back at the man, as if he was asking what the man was looking at or rejoicing at the opportunity to stretch out his fists; but Zich lowered his gaze. He quietly stuck close to the wall and moved to where the other bystanders were. If Lyla had been beside him, she would have asked if he was hurting anywhere and would gently suggest a visit to the hospital with worry. The gangster who looked at Zich disgruntledly soon lost interest and took his eyes away after snorting. Then, he kicked the guys collapsed on the ground on their stomachs once each and walked to the shop’s entrance.

“W—wait…!” a hesitant but desperate voice called out. The gangster...