The store room wasn't empty.
It was a den.
Dusty windows let in crooked beams of light, illuminating a group of senior boys lounging like kings on broken desks and crates. Their laughter echoed against the metal shelves stacked with old sports equipment.
A few frightened juniors stood in a line, heads down, waiting for orders.
And in the center of it all sat Sojo.
A broad, muscular senior with a jagged scar running diagonally across his cheek—a scar he loved showing off, proof of fights he bragged about every day. His shirt collar was open, tie loose, legs spread out like he owned the entire school.
His foot rested on the back of a trembling junior.
"Sojo… he's here," one of the seniors muttered.
Sojo grinned, slow and cruel.
"Well, well…" He clapped once. "Here comes my best servant."
Andrew stepped inside silently. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, but he kept his expression blank.
Sojo leaned back and slapped his thigh.
"Andrew," he said mockingly, "come here and start massaging my legs."
A senior kicked a stool forward for Andrew to sit on.
Another junior with shaking hands poured cold water into a steel glass for Sojo.
Two more juniors were ordered to dance—yes, dance—to entertain the seniors.
The humiliation hung heavy in the air.
Andrew walked forward without a word, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. He knelt beside Sojo, hesitating only for a moment.
Sojo's grin widened.
"What happened? Hands stopped working?"
Andrew looked up, eyes burning, but forced himself to lower his gaze.
He placed his hands on Sojo's legs and began massaging.
The seniors laughed.
The juniors avoided eye contact, ashamed but helpless.
Sojo took a slow sip of water.
"You know, Andrew… you're lucky. Most kids I would break in one day. But you…"
He tapped Andrew's cheek with his shoe.
"You serve well. Maybe I'll even let you go early today if you behave."
Andrew's jaw tightened.
"Good," Sojo continued. "Now harder. My legs hurt from kicking idiots like you."
Their laughter echoed again.
But Andrew didn't hear it.
All he heard was his own heartbeat…
and a quiet voice in his head that whispered:
How long can you endure this?
How long until you break?
Outside the store room door, unnoticed, someone stood hidden in the shadows.
Watching.
Waiting.
The first spark of change was coming.
Sojo yawned loudly. "I'm bored. Let's see a fight."
His eyes slid toward Andrew.
"Oi, Andrew. Go do some wrestling for us. Beat that kid there—make it fun."
Andrew shook his head. "My mother… she doesn't like me fighting."
The entire room fell silent.
Sojo's smirk vanished. A vein popped in his forehead.
"What did you say…?" he muttered.
Before Andrew could react, Sojo kicked him in the stomach with brutal force.
Andrew crashed into a pile of old metal shelves, dust exploding around him.
Sojo stepped forward slowly, eyes burning with anger.
"You don't get to say 'no' to me," he growled. Then he snapped his fingers. "Boys. Teach our little servant some manners. After that—we're all going for ice cream."
A ring of seniors approached Andrew, cracking their knuckles, smiling like wolves around wounded prey.
Andrew wiped dirt from his cheek.
He knew he couldn't win.
He also knew he had no choice.
And as the first punch flew toward him, somewhere deep inside… something old, something forbidden, flickered.
Just as the first blow was about to land, the old metal gate burst open with a thunderous clang.
A man in his early thirties stepped inside—tall, rugged, dressed in simple clothes but carrying an aura that made the entire room freeze. His eyes were sharp, scanning the scene with cold disgust.
"Enough," he said, voice low but cutting through the silence.
"Unless you all have a death wish, stop right now."
Sojo frowned. "Who the hell is this guy?"
One of his friends whispered nervously, "I don't know… but maybe we should—"
Before he could finish, a bold junior walked up and grabbed the man's shoulder.
"What's your problem, old man?"
In the next instant—
Thud!
A single, precise kick sent the boy flying across the concrete floor, rolling until he hit a broken desk.
Silence. Cold. Absolute.
Even Sojo's tough façade cracked.
The man's eyes settled on them like a predator examining prey.
"I won't repeat myself," he said. "Leave."
Sojo swallowed hard.
"A-Andrew," he muttered, forcing a smirk to hide his fear, "we're… leaving now. I'll see you tomorrow."
He and his gang moved past the stranger stiffly—trying not to look weak, but failing with every step.
Within seconds, the storage room was empty except for Andrew… and the mysterious man.
Dust settled around them.
The man turned toward Andrew.
His expression softened.
"You alright, kid?"
Andrew stared at him, confused.
He had never seen this man before.
Or… had he?
The man raised an eyebrow at Andrew's stunned expression.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
A faint, teasing smile appeared on his face.
"I'm your uncle, kid. We met five years ago—New Year's Eve. Don't tell me your memory has gotten that weak."
Andrew blinked, struggling to connect the rugged fighter standing before him with the blurry childhood memory he barely remembered—fireworks, laughter, a tall man lifting him onto his shoulders.
"U-Uncle… Ryo?" Andrew whispered.
The man folded his arms.
"Finally. Thought I'd need to punch your brain back into work."
Andrew felt a mix of relief and confusion.
"What are you doing here? You vanished for years… and suddenly you show up in my school?"
Ryo sighed, looking around the storage room littered with broken desks and dust.
"I came because I heard you were getting beaten every day."
His voice darkened.
"And because your mother still refuses to teach you how to defend yourself."
Andrew lowered his eyes, embarrassed. "Mom doesn't like fighting…"
Ryo stepped closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Andrew, there's a difference between fighting and surviving. What I just saw wasn't you living—it was you being crushed."
He leaned in slightly.
"I'm not here to watch my nephew live like a punching bag."
Andrew swallowed hard.
Something shifted inside him—a small, burning spark he had been trying to ignore.
Ryo straightened and headed toward the exit.
"Come with me after school. There's somewhere I want to take you."
He paused at the doorway.
"And no… it's not home."
He looked back with a serious expression.
"It's time you learn about Phoenix."