"I want you to kneel in front of me, lick my shoes too," said the young man whose forehead was taped with bandages.

Santiago rolled his eyes in the direction that had spoken. "Kneeling doesn't fill me up."

"You poor bastard!"

"You trash mouth!"

Santiago, usually called San, winced when a punch landed on his stomach. This is already the fifteenth blow. There's no point in counting the forces, but every single one that lands on his body adds one more realization that San is about to greet the angel of death.

He is in an abandoned warehouse, deserted and dimly lit, which may be his final resting place. It wasn't funny, but San laughed when he thought about it.

"Boss, I think he's gone mad." It was the voice of the bald man. As he was affectionately called, his tiny head was bald, without a single strand of hair. He had been busy holding San's arm, keeping watch so the young man would not run away when his Boss was judging him.

The figure who had been called Boss was kneeling on one knee. He glared at San. "You're already poor, orphan, pretending to be a champion again!"

"Don't get too close. Your mouth stinks." San said with a bit of hiccup from coughing.

"You—"

"I already told you, your mouth is trash. Smell. Rotten." San closed his eyes, expecting his sixteenth hit. However, two seconds had passed, and there was no feeling in his body. San thought he was already dead before getting hit again.

The next second, San flinched in surprise when his head was stroked.

"I'm the one you said trash will throw you in the trash." The bandaged forehead smiled sweetly, his hand stroking San's messy hair.

San was confused but chose not to ask.

A group of five youths left San, who was sprawled. Before going through the warehouse door, The Boss turned around and shouted, "We'll meet again tomorrow, San! Bye!"

Next day.

San is again on trial. This time he is in the counseling room, two lecturers are talking to Gio's parents, the people who beat up San yesterday.

"I want that child who doesn't know himself to go to jail!" exclaimed the middle-aged woman who looked like a socialite. Presumably, indeed 'in the future,' he was influential in society. Her husband, who is also Gio's father, is running for mayor of Bandung.

"But, Mrs. Ambar, we think it's too much." One lecturer, who wears glasses, tries to calm the woman down.

"Exaggerated how?! He has put my son in the hospital! Gio's forehead was bandaged with seven stitches, and he was hospitalized for up to two weeks! Exaggerated, you say? Do you want me to sue this campus?!" Still fiery, he threatened. "Don't think I've been silent for two weeks waiting for an answer like this!"

"But, Mom, this is just a child's problem. Their current age is reasonable for fighting—" The second lecturer, wearing a salted egg blue shirt, made a sound.

"If you keep insisting, I'll call my lawyer now!"

Gio smiled contentedly. He looked at San, who had not moved before.

The lecturer continued ignoring the students' words, "You apologize now and try to beg for Gio's parents. You don't want any students on this campus to get in trouble with the police!"

San scratched behind his ear. "It's not my fault, ma'am," he said, facing Mrs. Ambar, Gio's mother. "He hit his head on the unfinished wall because he tripped over his own feet—" San raised one hand when he saw Ambar open his mouth. "I've been silent since I listened to your debate, and now it's my turn to speak." He glanced at his two lecturers as if asking permission.

The second lecturer nodded, while the other seemed to be holding himself back from throwing a flower pot at San.

"Miss Ambar," he called casually. "Do you know the whole story yet? Chronology of why your child's head was stitched?" San himself didn't expect the wound to be stitched up. Is it that bad just because it hit an unpolished wall?

"Don't listen to him, Mom! What San said must be a lie!" Gio interrupted, looking irritated.

"I'm not done talking, Gio," San warned with an annoyed face. "Take care of your manners when there are parents."

"You're smart, orphan!"

"Gio!" The lecturer in the salted egg shirt rebuked him.

"But he's annoying, sir!"

"You snapped at my son?!" Amber exclaimed, yet to receive.

San took a deep breath. It isn't easy to talk to them. It was true that he only talked to Leon, his pet cat, at home. "Sorry. Do you continue, huh?"

"Don't listen, Mum," Gio whined, which his mother ignored.

"Okay, I will listen to you." Ambar ignores Gio who is already making noises.

San tells about Gio and his gang friends. In an alley near the campus, they were caught bullying a female student one grade below them. Not just bullying, but until the girl cries because the front of her shirt is torn. San, who saw that, then reprimanded and helped the girl. However, what happened was that he was beaten up until he was cornered against a wall.

San tried to escape by butting Gio, who was about to smash a wooden stick into his head. When Gio wanted to reply, for some reason, his body suddenly swayed. San, who felt that the man's body would crush him, finally managed to get out of the way. However, the unfortunate thing was that Gio's head hit the wall that had not been leveled hard enough.

"Done," San said, ending his story.

The two lecturers who were there looked seriously at San, then glanced at Gio with an appraising look.

"He is lie!" shouted Gio. He even stood up and pointed at San. "Mum, these orphans are lying! Sir, please don't believe her hallucinations!"

"You have proof?" asked Amber coldly.

"The girl can be a witness if you want, Ma'am," San answered casually.

"If it turns out that it's not true, do you want to accept the consequences?"

Everyone in the counseling room fell silent. The two lecturers looked at San with waiting eyes; the same thing was done by Gio.

"What are the consequences?" He asked.

"You will lose what you have now," replied the woman with buns.

San thought. What does he have? San doesn't have parents and is poor. To eat, he has to work late into the night. Regarding tuition fees, all because of the scholarship and because he was often absent, he had already received a letter warning of the revocation of the scholarship.

Residence? He lives with his uncle, who orders him to do forced labor every day, beats him, and sometimes doesn't open the door when he comes home from work a little late.

So, what did he have that he should feel like losing?

"Deal." Sam made up his mind.