Chapter 95: FACING A DISTANT ENEMY

The break bell rang—a long sound that echoed throughout the corridor. Classroom doors opened all at once, and students poured out. Some ran to the cafeteria clutching money in their hands, some stopped in the corridor to talk with friends from other classes, some walked casually to the field with their hands in their pockets. Kai stood at the teachers’ room doorway, watching that crowd for a moment. He needed rest. Just a moment. Just a few minutes for himself—without voices, without students, without questions.

He walked out to the schoolyard, past the field already filled with students playing, past several teachers standing at the edge chatting, past the park benches already occupied. He walked to the corner of the yard—to a quieter place, near the school fence, under a large shady tree. He leaned against that tree trunk, with his hands in his pockets, with his eyes staring at the field, and he let out a breath. Haaah.

Then—something. Not a sound. Not a movement. Something deeper—something that made the hair on his neck stand up, that made his muscles tense, that made his body move before his brain had time to think. He jumped forward—one long leap, with his body spinning in the air—and he landed on both feet, with his hands already ready, with his eyes watching.

A few students who saw it stopped. A girl with a bag in her hand pointed at him and whispered to her friend. A boy drinking from a bottle lowered his bottle and stared at Kai with raised eyebrows. But after a few seconds—when nothing happened—they returned to their activities.

Kai didn’t return to his spot. He stared toward where he had been standing—under the tree, at the dusty ground—and he saw something. A small hole. Round. Neat. Too neat to be made by anything natural. He crouched, observing that hole, and he felt something cold spreading through his chest. A bullet hole. Someone had just shot at him—and the bullet had nearly hit him.

He stood up. He didn’t look toward the students—he didn’t want to make them panic. He just turned and walked quickly toward the school building, with wide steps, with his hands already clenched, with his eyes watching every corner. He entered the building, past the corridor that was starting to empty because most students were still outside, and he walked quickly toward the stairs. He didn’t run—there was a rule at this school forbidding running in the corridor—but his steps were quick, and he didn’t slow down until he reached the top floor.

He pushed the rooftop door open, and he immediately dodged. Srekkk! A bullet hit the wall beside him, sending concrete fragments flying. Kai rolled to the side, behind a large water pipe, and he pressed his back against the wall. His breath was heavy—not from exhaustion, but from the adrenaline starting to flow.

He waited. One second. Two seconds. Then he moved—toward the wall behind him, toward the iron cage embedded in the wall. The cage was small—just enough for one box—and in front of it was a keyhole. Kai reached into his pocket, taking out the key Reina had given him a few days earlier. The key was small—with intricate teeth, with a slightly worn surface. He inserted it into the keyhole and turned it—click—and the cage door opened.

Inside was a black iron box—long, with handles on both sides. Kai lifted it—heavy, but not too heavy for him—and he placed it on the floor. He opened the box, and inside was a long weapon, half its body, with a scope on top and a silencer at the end of its barrel. A rifle. Not an ordinary rifle—this was a modified rifle, with a longer barrel, with sharp bullets, with an adjustable scope.

Kai took that rifle, feeling its weight in his hands, feeling the cold metal texture on his fingers. He checked its magazine—full—and he cocked it. Clack. He leaned against the wall, with the rifle in his hands, with his eyes watching, and he waited. The wind blew softly—whoosh—and he felt that gust on his face. He waited until the wind was calm, until there was no movement in the air, and he moved.

He ran to the center of the rooftop, with his body low, with the rifle in his hands, and he sought cover behind another water pipe. Srekkk! Another bullet hit the wall behind him. Kai ignored it. He raised the rifle to his eye, looking through the scope, and he scanned the building across. That building was tall—with many windows, with many corners—and for a moment, he saw nothing.

Then—a glint. Sunlight reflecting off something in a third-floor window. Kai aimed his rifle toward it, and he saw him. A man—in dark clothes, with a rifle in his hands, with a body position already trained. The man moved, shifting from one window to another, and Kai followed his movement with the scope. He waited. The wind blew again—whoosh—and Kai waited until the wind was calm. Then he fired.

Bang! The silencer swallowed most of the sound, but Kai could feel the recoil in his shoulder. The bullet flew, and through the scope, he saw the man fall.

Kai lowered his rifle. He stood there for a moment, with breath slightly heavy, with eyes still watching, then he turned and walked back to the iron cage. He placed the rifle back into its box—slowly, carefully—and he closed the box. He locked the cage—click—and he put the key back in his pocket.

He walked back to the rooftop door and descended the stairs. He didn’t run—but his steps were quick. He returned to the second-floor corridor, past several students still milling about, past several teachers talking, and he stopped in front of the principal’s office. The door was open. Reina stood behind her desk—with a folder in her hand, with a slightly tense face. She lifted her head when Kai entered.

"Did you hear it?" Reina asked.

Kai walked to Reina’s desk and placed the key on it. "I’m the one who shot him."

Reina stared at the key for a moment. Then she lifted her head. "How did you know there was a shooter?"

"I felt it." Kai stood there, with his hands at his sides, with his eyes looking at Reina. "I used the rifle on the rooftop. The one you showed me."

Reina let out a breath—slowly, with shoulders slightly slumped. "Good." She paused for a moment. "I didn’t expect you to use it this soon."

"Me neither." Kai looked at her. "You said there was a weapon at this school. You didn’t say there would be a shooter coming."

Reina looked at him for a long time. Then she walked to the window and stared at the schoolyard—toward the students still playing, still laughing, still unaware of anything.

"You know," she said, her voice softer now, "when I first came to this school—before I became principal—I was just a nurse. I knew nothing about weapons. I knew nothing about combat. But I learned. I learned because I had to."

She paused for a moment. Kai didn’t say anything.

"Do you know who taught me?" Reina turned to Kai. "Leonhard. He taught me how to hold a pistol. He taught me how to shoot. He taught me how to protect myself." She looked at Kai—for a long time. "And he also taught me that this school—the school he founded—is a place that must be protected. Not just from mischievous students. But from the people out there who want to destroy it."

Kai looked at her. "You said they’re targeting us. Members of the Grim Reaper."

"Yes."

Reina smiled faintly—a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Because we’ve always opposed the government’s wishes. We’ve always refused to submit. We’ve always—" she paused for a moment, "—we’ve always been a thorn in their side. But they can’t act freely against us. Because we have a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes. A gift." Reina walked back to her desk and sat down. "When we managed to stop the rebels—eight years ago—the government gave us a gift. This land, permission to establish a school, and most importantly—" she looked at Kai, "—freedom. Not freedom you can use however you please. But freedom to live without interference. Freedom to protect our students. And most importantly—" she paused for a moment, "—freedom to not kill again."

Kai didn’t say anything.

"But that freedom has a price," Reina continued. "We can’t act arbitrarily. We can’t break the law. We can’t—" she stopped again, "—we can’t go back to being what we were. We have to be good. We have to be role models. We have to—" she smiled bitterly, "—we have to be good citizens."

Kai looked at her. "And now they want to take that freedom away?"

Reina nodded. "They want to take this school. These students. They want—" she looked at Kai, "—they want to take us. But they can’t do it directly. So they send people. Shooters. Assassins. People who won’t be noticed. People who will make us look like—" she stopped, "—like accidents."

Kai clenched his fists. "And you didn’t tell me?"

"I’m telling you. Now." Reina looked at him—for a long time. "I’m telling you because you need to know. Because you—" she paused for a moment, "—because you’re the only one who can protect them."

Kai looked at Reina—for a long time. Then he nodded—slowly, almost imperceptibly. "I understand."

Reina smiled—a smile more sincere than before. "Good." She walked back to her desk and sat down. "Now—you should go back to class. Your students are waiting."

Kai nodded. He turned and walked to the door. He opened that door, and he paused at the threshold for a moment, turning back. "Reina."

Reina lifted her head.

"Thank you," Kai said. "For the honesty."

Reina blinked. Then she smiled—a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes, but enough to make her face look a little younger. "You’re welcome, Kai."

Kai left that room, closing the door behind him, and he walked down the corridor toward Class IX-9. He opened the classroom door, and he saw his students sitting at their respective desks—with books open in front of them, with serious faces. They were studying on their own—without a teacher—and they didn’t realize Kai had entered until the door closed behind him.

Mira lifted her head. "Mr. Kai!" she said. "Are you done with your business with Ms. Reina?"

Kai nodded. "Done."

Iris rested her chin on her palm—with the mysterious smile that was always on her face. "What business, Sir? Why were you called to the principal’s office? Don’t tell me—"

"Iris." Ella tapped Iris’s desk with her pen. "Don’t meddle in other people’s business."

"I’m just asking."

"You’re always just asking."

Eve raised her hand—with glasses slightly slipping down her nose. "Mr. Kai. I have a question about the English literature material we’re studying."

Kai walked to Eve’s desk. He bent down, looking at the book open in front of Eve, looking at the notes filled with scribbles. "What don’t you understand?"

"On this page," Eve said, pointing to the book page, "there’s a poem about—" she paused for a moment, reading the title, "—’The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost. I understand the meaning of every word. But I don’t understand why this poem is considered important. What makes it different from other poems?"

Kai looked at Eve for a moment. Then he pulled an empty chair near Eve’s desk and sat down. "This poem is about choice," he said. "About two roads branching in a forest—and about how choosing one road means you’ll never know what’s on the other road. Frost wrote this as satire—about how people often romanticize the choices they didn’t make."

Eve furrowed her brow. "So... this poem is about regret?"

"Not regret," Kai said. "More about—how we justify our own choices. We say ’I took the road less traveled’—when actually both roads were the same. We just want to feel that our choice was special."

Eve nodded slowly. She noted something in her book—with neat handwriting, with blue ink. "I understand," she said. "Thank you, Mr. Kai."

Kai stood and returned to the front of the class. He continued the lesson—about English literature, about poems written in a language that wasn’t theirs, about how words could have different meanings depending on who read them. His students listened—some seriously, some with bored expressions, some with distant eyes.

They were so absorbed in learning that they didn’t realize the bell for the second lesson had already rung. Kai closed his book and placed it on the desk. "Alright," he said. "Change into your sports clothes. After that, go straight to the field."

They stood—with the sound of chairs shifting and bags opening—and Kai left the class. He walked to the teachers’ room, took his sports clothes from the locker, and he entered the changing room. He changed quickly—sports shirt, training pants, sneakers—and he walked out to the field.

He stood under the large tree near the field—sheltering from the increasingly scorching sun—and he waited. Mira arrived first—with quick steps, with a wide smile.

"Mr. Kai!" she said. "Mira came first!"

Kai nodded. "Good."

Mira stood beside him—with her hands on her hips, with breath slightly heavy from running. "Mr. Kai," she said. "Mira is curious. What did Ms. Reina call you for earlier?"

"School business," Kai said.

"What school business?"

"Business you don’t need to know about."

Mira pouted her lips. "Mr. Kai is stingy."

Kai didn’t answer. He just stared at the field—toward the other students starting to arrive—and he waited until they were all gathered. After everyone arrived—Ella, Rin, Luna, Nora, Iris, Eve, Aria, and Fay—Kai asked them to form a line. They lined up neatly—with their hands at their sides, with eyes staring forward.

"Before we start," Kai said, "let’s warm up first. I don’t want anyone getting injured."

He led the warm-up—leg stretches, arm stretches, neck stretches. His students followed—some seriously, some lazily, some with irregular movements. After finishing, Kai stood in front of them.

"Today we’re going to do the long jump," he said. "I’ll explain the rules. You’ll run from the start line—" he pointed to the line he had drawn on the ground—"then jump as far as you can from the takeoff line. You can’t step on that line. If you step on it, your jump doesn’t count."

He explained the technique—how to run, how to take off, how to jump, how to land. His students listened—some seriously, some with bored expressions. After finishing, Kai asked them to practice—one by one.

Nora jumped the farthest—with perfect technique, with a long jump. Rin also jumped far—with strong power, with a high jump. The others weren’t bad—maybe because they were active, maybe because they were used to moving. Mira jumped with enthusiasm—though her technique was still a little messy. Luna jumped calmly—with a not-too-far jump, but neat. Iris jumped casually—with the mysterious smile that never faded. Eve jumped with calculation—with a not-too-far jump, but precise. Aria jumped carefully—with a short jump, but she didn’t fall. Fay jumped slowly—with the shortest jump, but she smiled afterward.

The break bell rang—a long sound that echoed across the field. Kai ended the lesson—asking them to line up again, saying thank you, and inviting them to take a break. His students scattered—some to the cafeteria, some to the classroom, some sitting under the tree. Kai stood there for a moment—watching them leave—then he turned and walked to the teachers’ room.

He hadn’t reached the teachers’ room when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw Leonhard’s name on the screen. He answered it.

"Yes?"

"Kai." Leonhard’s voice was heavy, with slightly labored breath, with an unusual tone. "You need to come here. Now."

Kai furrowed his brow. "What’s wrong?"

"We’re in trouble." Leonhard paused for a moment—and Kai could hear something in the background—maybe the sound of engines, maybe the sound of gunfire. "They’re coming. More than we expected. I need your help."

"Where?"

"At the old base. You know the place."

Kai nodded—even though Leonhard couldn’t see him. "I’m coming."

"Kai—" Leonhard’s voice paused for a moment. "Be careful. They’re not like what we usually face. They’re—" he stopped again, like he was searching for the right word, "—they’re trained. Not street thugs. Not ordinary mercenaries. They’re—" he let out a breath, "—they’re like us."

Kai didn’t say anything. He just sat there—with the phone in his hand, with eyes staring straight ahead—and he let those words sink in.

"I’m coming," he said finally. "Don’t die yet."

Leonhard laughed softly—a bitter laugh, without humor. "I don’t intend to die today. But I can’t promise anything."

Kai ended the call. He put his phone in his pocket. He stood there for a moment—staring at the corridor that was starting to empty—then he turned and walked out. He didn’t go back to class. He didn’t take his bag. He just walked—quickly, with his hands in his pockets, with eyes staring straight ahead—and he left the school building.