Page 38 of His Untoward Hate

A voice that, even if it struck him in different versions, cut him deep down to his core, gripped him with fear when it hurtled through the air, and his ears did not want to register—it was the voice he knew all too well.

“S-ky…”

The men behind the black masks muttered in horror almost simultaneously.

The moment he heard his voice, the terror gripping his heart loosened its hold. Jude did not want to admit it, but somehow, against all reason, his presence made him feel safe.

17

Sometimes, Sky could not understand himself, especially that fucking pumping organ under his chest. He was certain he was still somewhere on the school premises since he had carefully checked every student leaving one by one. Unless the idiot had climbed over the high railings behind the school and ended up killing himself. Instead of going home and thinking of beating that faggot tomorrow because he did not show up, his feet brought him inside the school, looking for him for no rational reason.

The sun was already out, and the school was surprisingly quiet. Although he could see some professors and students from the college founders, very few could be seen in the senior high school building. When he walked down the halls of the senior high department, he noticed that the lights were out. They usually left the lights on here, but he could still clearly see the hallways anyway.

Sky’s intuition promptly told him something was not right. He slowly walked down every hallway and carefully sensed his surroundings. Just as Sky was about to pass the way to the parking lot, something on the floor caught his eye. A pair of lenses lay abandoned on the ground, and his heart instantly sank—a very familiar pair of eyeglasses.

He squatted on his knees and picked up the lenses. He studied them closely and gently ran his fingers along the temples. He knitted his brows and gritted his teeth as a horrible thought began swirling in his head. Trying to calm down as much as possible, he walked down the hallway silently and carefully, listening for any sounds his ears could catch.

“P-lease s-top. W-hat d-id I do?”

A well-acquainted voice begged, sending a pang directly into his chest. He took a deep breath, tried to calm down, and silently walked towards the cast of shadows reflected in the area.

“What did you expect? You were a mistake the moment you were born. Nobody wanted you, nobody likes you, and nobody ever will. And listen carefully, faggot. Stay the hell away from Sky fucking Granger. If I catch you anywhere near him again, you’ll wish you’d never set foot in this school.”

Sky bit the inside of his cheek and let out a shaky breath, trying to contain the rage building inside him as another familiar voice reached his ears. His hands trembled with anger, his nails digging into his own skin until they broke and bled. He could never go wrong.

Sky swiftly shifted to go nearer the shadows, sticking his back against the sheer wall as he watched the scene before his very eyes. His horns quickly emerged when he saw how they threw punches and beat Jude Finn the hell out of him.

“I think he’s had enough. Let’s move. We don’t want anyone finding out we were here.”

Sky ground his teeth so hard it felt as though they might shatter. Rage boiled through every vein in his body, a destructive onset screaming for blood and vengeance.

“I’m not satisfied yet. One more punch.”

Every punch that landed felt like a dagger twisting deeper into his chest. His fists clenched at his sides as he waited for the perfect moment to strike and pull him out of hell.

“You’re bringing so much trouble in this sch—”

His body reacted instantly. He did not let him finish his sentence. He moved in a blur, intercepting the familiar man’s punch midair. His fingers clamped around the fist with crushing force.

“You’ll regret why you did this…” Sky said coldly, but behind his tone was wrath and commanding power.

“S-ky…” They muttered in shock when they saw him.

Despite their masks covering half of their faces, he could vividly figure out who exactly the hell these assholes were.

With extreme force, he flung the man aside. A howled cry erupted from his throat as he slammed into the ground. The other two immediately seized the opportunity, charging toward him with murderous intent. He caught their movements from the corner of his eye and effortlessly slipped past their attacks. Before they could recover, his hands lashed out. He grabbed both of them by the wrists and jerked them forward with feral might, nearly wrenching their arms from their sockets. Their startled cries filled the air as painful panic flashed across their faces.

Towering over all three of them, he swatted aside their pathetic attacks as though they were nothing more than kindergarten children fighting over lollipops. He swiftly twisted their arms behind their backs the moment they tried to move, forcing them to face away from him. Sky held both of their wrists in a taut, controlled grip, applying enough pressure that a single wrong move could snap them out of place.

They cried out in pain and defeat.

“Who the hell has permitted you to do this?” he asked, gritting his teeth in total madness.

Never before had anyone dared lay such a vicious beating on Jude Finn without his consent. If anyone was going to beat the hell mercilessly out of Jude Finn, it would be him—and him alone.

“Why do you care now, Sky Granger?” he jerked his head to the person who was not in his grasp, the familiar sarcasm coming from one of his long-time enemies, someone whose existence he constantly questioned: Why was he still alive? Why had he been allowed to keep this asshole breathing this long?

Estevin Simbajon. The infamous hockey player. A sophomore medical student. Son of a bitch.