It was the height of autumn. The air had turned crisp, and students were bundled up in their seasonal uniforms as they trickled out of school. Yor blended into the crowd, wearing his favorite scarf—the one his mother had knitted for him before she fell ill and became bedridden.
He walked quietly, surrounded by groups of students chatting and laughing as they made their way home.
Yor, however, kept to himself. Since the first day of school, he hadn't made any friends. His closest friend, Ludwig, had already graduated and moved on to college—along with the rest of the friend group that Yor had only been part of because of Ludwig.
Now that they were gone, Yor was once again alone. But to help him feel connected, Ludwig had gifted him a HALO—a full-dive VR device—for his birthday, so they could play games together.
Still, it didn't bother him much. He'd never really had friends growing up. He was awkward, shy.
Whenever he tried to start conversations, he ended up stammering or rambling about niche topics only he cared about. Some classmates would approach him to ask about academics, but that was it—they only came to him when they needed something.
Everything changed in middle school when he met Ludwig—an extrovert who naturally pulled Yor into his friend group. For the first time, Yor had real friends. But those days ended at graduation. He remembered feeling a heavy kind of sadness that day, but told himself, I've survived being alone before I met Ludwig. I'll just endure this last year, too.
As he walked home that afternoon, something caught his eye. A group of four guys and two girls walked ahead of him, laughing loudly and pushing each other around.
One of the girls looked especially uncomfortable. While the others flirted and got handsy, she seemed tense—her body stiff, her smile forced, her eyes darting around.
They passed by Yor's street, heading somewhere further down. He hesitated. What business would they have down here? The only places past his house were old shops and a row of love hotels.
A bad feeling settled in his chest.
He kept his distance but followed.
Eventually, the group stopped outside a small motel. The girl—clearly distressed—suddenly tried to break free, but the guys tightened their grip on her arms. She struggled, panic etched across her face, but they were stronger.
She let out a scream.
One of the guys quickly grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her to restrict her movement, then slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Don't be loud," he hissed. "We're just here to visit someone."
It was a blatant lie. They had planned this from the start the moment they met her. She was quiet, shy—an easy target. That's why they chose her.
"Come on, Amane," one of the girls cooed mockingly, her voice laced with a sickly sweet tone. "You'll enjoy it." She giggled seductively, watching her so-called "friend" fight to escape, doing nothing to help.
Yor's heart pounded in his chest. His hands trembled—but not from fear. From urgency.
Yor looked around desperately—there were no security guards in sight, and no time to search.
But then he spotted a group of men loitering near the corner, probably in their thirties. They looked like delinquents—rough around the edges, smoking cigarettes and laughing loudly, like they owned the street.
But right now, they were his only shot.
Without thinking twice, he ran straight toward them.
"Someone's trying to assault a girl at the motel!" he shouted. "Please, I need help—right now!"
They turned, eyebrows raised.
One of them flicked his cigarette to the ground. "What the hell did you just say?"
Yor didn't slow down. "She's in danger! They're dragging her into Lovey Motel!"
There was a brief pause. Then the men exchanged quick glances—something unspoken passing between them—before they pushed off the wall and followed.
"Lead the way, kid," one of them said, already cracking his knuckles.