When Sam saw Max again, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. There were no visible bruises, no signs of severe injuries. He had been worried they'd rough him up so badly that Max wouldn't even be able to return to school.
'I don't know if talking to Abby did anything... but even if it didn't, I'm just glad he's okay,' Sam thought, letting out a small smile.
"What the hell is that pig smiling about?" Ko sneered as the bell rang, signaling the start of the first break.
"He's probably daydreaming about catching some bacon," Mo chuckled. "Wait—since he's a pig himself, would that count as cannibalism?"
The group erupted into laughter, except for one who kept glancing at Max, watching his every move with quiet caution.
Break time meant the usual torment. The mockery continued like it was part of the daily schedule. Sam and Max were forced to go along with whatever Ko and his crew demanded, even if it meant harassing other students on their behalf.
They made Sam ask out several girls in the class, recording every rejection and look of disgust on their phones, treating it all like some sick game.
To them, Sam and Max weren't classmates, they were the day's entertainment.
And when the usual taunts weren't enough, that's when the hitting started.
The group had decided to play rock-paper-scissors with Sam and Max—but with a twist. Whoever lost would get slapped by the winner. There were no other rules, and participation wasn't optional.
Of course, when Sam or Max managed to win, their slaps were light, barely a touch on the cheek.
But when it was the other way around? The slaps came full force.
Oddly enough, for some reason, every time Max was chosen for punishment, Joe was the one picked to do it.
'Damn it, Ko… do you have any idea what you're doing?' Joe screamed in his head. 'You keep making me mess with this monster… and now he's the one paying me! Will you quit it already!?'
This time, Joe had thrown scissors.
Max threw paper.
Ko and Mo burst into laughter, cheering like it was the best thing they'd seen all day, while internally, Joe was crying for mercy.
Forced to play along, Joe stepped forward and gave Max a slap across the face. It had some force to it, just enough to sell it. But not too much. He even closed his eyes as he delivered it, bracing for what might come later.
Finally, the school day had come to an end, the best part of the day for both Max and Sam.
'I've managed to make real progress today,' Max thought, walking out the front of the school. 'I learned about someone else involved. But if Dipter is the one giving Ko orders… then someone must be pulling Dipter's strings too.'
Still, the biggest mystery remained.
'What I just can't figure out is—why didn't Max use his money to fix any of this? He had the means. Why suffer in silence?'
As always, Max made his usual detour to the gym, needing to clear his mind before deciding what to do next.
Meanwhile, Sam had gone straight home. But his day wasn't over just yet.
As he walked down the street and stepped through the front door of his house, the familiar chaos of dinner service hit him immediately.
"Order for table five!" a woman shouted from the kitchen, her graying hair tied back in a messy bun.
"I know, I know, honey! Can you take it out yourself? I'm still finishing the noodles for the delivery!" an older man yelled back, a bandana tied around his head and sweat on his brow.
The moment they saw Sam enter, both his parents looked visibly relieved.
"You're back! Perfect timing!" his mom called out.
Without missing a beat, Sam dropped his bag and rushed past them, weaving through the cramped tables toward the kitchen to help.
"Sam!" his mother shouted. "What happened to your shirt? Is it your friends again? I told you, you need to stop letting them do that… we can't afford to buy another one."
"I know, Mom, I know…" Sam replied quickly, already heading up the stairs. "Let me just get changed."
Sam's parents ran a small restaurant that specialized in grilled BBQ skewers, light snacks, and beer. It wasn't much—but it was theirs. The place was small, with only four tables, and even on good days, it was rarely packed. Often, there were long stretches with no customers at all.
Still, they didn't complain.
They made enough to get by, doing something they loved—something they had always dreamed of. It wasn't easy, but they were proud of it.
Moments later, Sam came back downstairs, now wearing a simple apron. Without needing to be asked, he went straight to clearing one of the tables, then moved to the kitchen to help carry out food and serve the customers who were seated.
As they watched him, both of Sam's parents smiled—but behind those smiles, there was guilt.
Because no matter how grateful they were for their son's help, it never sat right with them that he had to help. That, during every busy moment, Sam was there working instead of resting, studying, or being a normal teenager.
They simply didn't make enough to hire anyone. And even if they tried, no one wanted to work for just two hours a day. So the only option left… was Sam.
They wished he could focus on studying, on chasing his dreams—or at the very least, spend time with friends, just being a regular teenager. Sam always told them it was fine, that he didn't mind helping out. That he liked being part of the family business.
But no matter how often he said it, it still pained them deeply.
An hour passed. The dinner rush was over. Just like most nights, the restaurant was quiet again—still open, but with only the occasional customer coming in here and there.
"So… how was school today?" his mother asked gently as she wiped down the counter.
"It was the same as always," Sam replied with a shrug. "Nothing special happened. Just… school stuff. Stupid stuff."
His mother smiled faintly. She could tell something was a little different—he seemed a bit more cheerful than usual. She wanted to ask more, but just then, the bell above the door chimed.
They both turned to look—and saw three boys walk into the restaurant.
"Oh, is this your first time here?" she asked kindly, her customer-service voice kicking in.
"Yeah, actually," one of them replied with a wide grin. "Sam was the one who told us about this place."
Sam's heart dropped the second he heard that voice.
School had ended. This was supposed to be his time—his escape. The one part of the day where everything could be quiet, where he could forget about the torment, the humiliation… and just breathe.
But as he slowly lifted his head, he saw the worst of it confirmed.
Standing at the entrance, that familiar smug grin stretched across his face…
Was Ko.