The heavy silence inside the abandoned factory felt suffocating. It pressed down on Adam like a physical weight as he finally, painfully, began to move.

  Every muscle in his body screamed in protest. He pushed himself up slowly from the cold, grimy concrete floor, his breath catching in sharp, shallow gasps. His ribs felt like they were on fire, throbbing with a deep ache that made each inhale agony. Black spots danced in front of his eyes from the pain and exertion.

  He managed to push himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily on one hand, blinking away tears that were a mixture of searing pain and burning anger. He gently touched his jaw where John's kick had landed.

  It was already swelling, tender to the touch. His lip was split, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood again. He clutched his aching stomach where another vicious kick had doubled him over. The memory of the blows, the sheer brutality of the attack, was still terrifyingly fresh.

  With tremendous effort, summoning strength he didn't know he possessed, Adam forced himself to stagger to his feet. The world tilted violently for a moment, and he swayed, catching himself against a rusted metal pillar nearby.

  Waves of dizziness and nausea washed over him. Each step towards the distant rectangle of dim light marking the factory entrance felt like climbing a mountain. His body screamed for him to stop, to lie back down, to give in to the pain. But he knew he couldn't. He had to keep moving. He had to get out of this desolate place.

  The darkness of the factory seemed alive with the echoes of John's laughter, the thud of fists and feet, his own choked gasps of pain. He felt the weight of his desperate situation pressing down on him with every ragged heartbeat.

  As he limped painfully towards the doorway, his mind, despite the fog of pain, started replaying the encounter, focusing not just on the physical blows, but on the cruel words John had spat at him. One taunt, in particular, echoed louder than the rest, digging under his skin like a poisoned shard of glass:

  "You really thought you were something special, huh? Just because Sophia looked at you? Just because she spoke to you a few times?"

  John's mocking voice seemed to swirl around him in the empty building, sharp and dripping with contempt. The memory burned, hot and humiliating. Adam's hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms as if the physical sensation could somehow erase the sting of those words.

  Sophia.

  Just hearing her name, even in the echo of John's cruel taunt, stirred up a whirlwind of old feelings inside him – a complicated storm of memories, longing, regret, and bitterness.

  It dragged him back instantly to a time before everything fell apart, a time when his life felt completely different, simpler yet somehow more hopeful, and ultimately, more foolish.

  Adam wasn't originally from this big, bustling city. He came from a small village nestled far away in the countryside. Life there was simple, predictable, revolving around the seasons and the hard work of farming.

  Opportunities were few and far between. His parents were good, hardworking people who toiled from sunrise to sunset, working the fields, tending their small home, doing whatever it took to make ends meet. They weren't wealthy or influential; they had little more than their calloused hands and their quiet dignity.

  But they possessed something powerful: an unshakeable belief in their son's potential and a fierce determination to give him a better future than the one they had known.

  They dreamed of him escaping the cycle of rural poverty, of him getting an education, making something of himself in the city. They sacrificed endlessly for that dream, saving every spare penny, cutting back on their own meager comforts, pooling together every resource they could find to pay for his school fees, his books, his bus fare to the city.

  And Adam had carried the weight of their sacrifices heavily. He never took their efforts for granted. He threw himself into his studies with a relentless intensity, pushing himself harder than he ever thought possible.

  Late nights spent hunched over textbooks under a single dim bulb, early mornings rising before dawn to review notes – that became his life. He was driven by a desperate need to succeed, not just for himself, but for them.

  His hard work paid off. Against all odds, he earned a place at UA University, one of the most prestigious and competitive universities in the entire city. Stepping onto that campus felt like entering a different world. He was surrounded by students from wealthy families, sons and daughters of politicians, businessmen, and powerful figures.

  They wore expensive clothes, drove fancy cars, and moved with an easy confidence that came from lifetimes of privilege. Adam, with his worn clothes and humble background, felt like an outsider.

  But he didn't let it intimidate him. He held his ground, focusing fiercely on his studies. His grades were outstanding, consistently at the top of his class. His intelligence and dedication were undeniable. And it was during those challenging, isolating university days that someone noticed him. Someone important.

  Her name was Sophia.

  At first, she was just another beautiful face in the crowded lecture halls, someone seemingly from a different universe. But Sophia wasn't like the others who might have looked down on him or ignored him completely.

  She saw past his simple clothes and quiet demeanor. She noticed his sharp mind during class discussions, his tireless hours in the library, the fierce determination in his eyes. She recognized something special in him.

  Slowly, tentatively, her attention grew. A smile in the hallway. A question about his notes. A shared moment of frustration over a difficult assignment. It started small, but her interest felt genuine. And with her attention came a growing admiration, maybe even something more. Sophia wasn't just smart and beautiful; she came from an incredibly wealthy and influential family.

  Her father was a powerful steel tycoon, one of the city's richest men. To everyone else at the university, Sophia seemed completely untouchable, a princess living in a castle of privilege.

  Back then, Adam’s young heart, starved for connection and validation, had dared to hope. When Sophia, the shining star, started showing interest in him, the poor village boy, it felt like a miracle.

  A warmth spread through him that he’d never experienced before. He started to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could overcome his background, that he could actually belong in her world, that perhaps even love could bridge the vast gap between them.

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  But reality, as it often does, was far crueler than his naive dreams. As time went on, he began to understand the painful truth. Sophia admired his struggle, his intelligence, perhaps even his 'otherness'.

  He was interesting to her, maybe even inspiring. But he was never truly part of her world. He was a novelty, a project, perhaps even a symbol of something she lacked in her own gilded cage. He slowly realized her interest wasn't the kind of love he’d foolishly imagined.

  In the end, Sophia remained exactly what she had always been – a symbol of a life he could glimpse but never touch. A life of wealth, power, and connections that was fundamentally closed off to someone like him.

  He later learned her father had already arranged her marriage to someone else, a young man from a similarly powerful family, securing alliances and consolidating wealth. And the most bitter pill to swallow? Sophia was also a childhood friend of John Walker.

  They moved in the same elite circles. John, with his inherited wealth and arrogant confidence, had everything Adam lacked. And ultimately, John seemed to possess Sophia's easy affection in a way Adam never could.

  The memory of the last time he had spoken to Sophia, a painful encounter filled with misunderstandings and unspoken truths, had shattered any remaining illusions.

  He finally understood: to her, he was an inspiring story, maybe even a friend she felt sorry for, but never an equal, never a potential partner, never someone who truly mattered in the grand scheme of her privileged life.

  By the time he grasped this devastating reality, it was too late. John was already there, a constant presence in her life, and Adam's ill-fated crush only seemed to fuel John's jealousy and resentment, leading to increased bullying and eventually contributing to Adam being kicked out of university under dubious circumstances.

  Now, limping through the deserted city streets outside the factory, the weight of those painful memories settled heavily in Adam's chest. The physical pain from the beating was immense, but the remembered sting of humiliation and rejection felt almost as sharp. He let out a sharp, bitter exhale, the sound harsh in the quiet air. A wry, self-deprecating smile twisted his bruised lips.

  'I was such an idiot,' he thought, the words laced with self-mockery. 'Such a blind fool.'

  He had wasted so much precious time, so much emotional energy, chasing a ghost, pursuing a fantasy that was never meant to be his. He had let his feelings for Sophia distract him, make him vulnerable, perhaps even cost him his education and career prospects in his original life. He had sacrificed so much for a dream built on illusion. The realization left a heavy, bitter taste in his mouth.

  But then, something shifted within him. The bitterness didn't consume him. Instead, it mingled with the raw anger from the recent beating, forging something harder, colder, more resolute.

  This time... The thought came sharp and clear. This time, things would be different.

  Adam stopped walking, pausing near the factory's gaping, dark doorway. He looked up, past the decaying structure, towards the vast expanse of the clear blue sky above. The sun was bright, bathing the derelict area in stark midday light. It felt symbolic, like the start of a new day, a new chance, despite the darkness he had just endured.

  His face, though bruised and bloodied, set into an expression of fierce determination. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, ignoring the pain that shot up his arms. He whispered the words aloud, a vow made to himself, to the uncaring sky, to the memory of his past self. "Not this time. This time, I won't be that fool. I won't give up so easily."

  The cold, throbbing pain in his ribs, the burning sting of the cuts and bruises on his face – they weren't just injuries anymore. They were reminders. Fuel. Each ache was a testament to the cruelty he faced, and each throb intensified his burning desire for payback, for justice, for revenge.

  He silently vowed, standing there in the harsh sunlight, that those who had humiliated him, those who had destroyed his family, those who had just beaten him and left him for dead – John Walker, his father, his friends – they would all pay. They would regret the day they ever crossed him.

  He gently touched the raw, aching flesh near his stomach where the kicks had landed hardest. The memory of the impact, the helplessness, flashed through his mind. A cold fire lit in his eyes. With a mix of agony and icy determination, he whispered again, his voice barely audible but vibrating with intensity, "And I swear… I'll make them suffer. Ten times over. For everything."

  With that dark promise echoing in his heart, Adam forced himself to stand taller, straighter. He started walking again. Each step was still a battle against the pain that radiated through his battered body, but now, he moved with a different energy. He was driven by a newfound fire, a purpose forged in suffering.

  Every shaky step wasn't just movement away from the factory; it was a step towards the future he was determined to build, a future where he held the power, a future where he would never, ever be a victim again.

  After what felt like an eternity of limping through quiet backstreets, navigating his way by instinct, the sharpest edges of the pain began to dull slightly. The initial shock was fading, replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that settled into his bones. His body still screamed with every movement, a constant reminder of the brutal assault, but his mind remained clear, sharp, focused.

  The cruel words and vicious blows replayed in his head, not as trauma anymore, but as data. He analyzed the encounter, John's motivations, his friends' behavior. And one phrase kept circling back, chilling him despite his resolve:

  "My father told me not to kill you. Not yet."

  Not yet. Those two words hung in his mind like a death sentence with a temporary stay of execution. John’s father, the powerful Mayor Walker, wanted him alive, for now. Why? Adam didn't know for sure, but he had a strong suspicion it was tied to the upcoming mayoral elections.

  Causing a murder, even of someone considered insignificant like Adam, could create bad press, unwanted attention, complications his father wouldn't risk right before election day.

  Adam understood the implication immediately. He had a deadline. A terrifyingly short one. The mayoral elections were just a few weeks away. Once they were over, win or lose, the mayor's caution might evaporate. John would likely be unleashed, free to finish the job he clearly wanted to do. Adam's life was hanging by a thread, suspended only by political convenience. The thought sent a fresh wave of urgency, colder and sharper than fear, pulsing through him.

  "I don't have much time," he reminded himself silently, the realization hitting him with the force of another blow. Survival wasn't just about healing from this beating; it was about acting fast, consolidating his position, becoming strong enough to defend himself before that deadline ran out.

  With renewed determination fueled by this grim understanding, Adam picked up his pace, pushing through the pain. Each step now felt urgent, driven by the desperate need to get somewhere safe, to regroup, to plan his next move. His mind raced, sifting through possibilities, formulating strategies.

  He needed a safe haven, a place to recover physically and mentally, away from the immediate threat of John and his thugs. There was only one place he could think of.

  He made his way, stumbling occasionally but moving with increasing speed, towards Eric's house. It felt like the only sanctuary he had in this hostile city.

  When he finally reached the familiar street, his relief was immense but short-lived. As he approached the house, Eric happened to be outside, perhaps taking out the trash or checking the mail. The moment Eric saw him, his friendly expression vanished, replaced instantly by shock, horror, and deep concern.

  "Adam?! Damn it, man! What the hell happened to you?!" Eric exclaimed, rushing towards him, his eyes wide as they took in Adam's battered state – the swollen jaw, the split lip, the developing bruises already darkening on his face, the way he was clutching his side. "I thought you went out looking for work or something! Not to get into a street brawl! Look at you! I warned you, didn't I? I told you not to mess with John Walker! Was it him? Did he do this to you?" Eric's voice was a torrent of worry, frustration, and the genuine fear of a true friend seeing someone they care about hurt badly.

  Despite the waves of pain still washing over him, despite the exhaustion threatening to pull him down, Adam managed a weak, grimacing chuckle. The sound was more of a pained cough.

  "Relax, Eric," he managed to reply, trying to inject a note of casualness into his voice, though it sounded thin and strained. "It's… it's nothing. I tripped. Fell down some stairs. I'm fine." The lie was transparently weak, but it was all he could manage right now.

  Eric clearly didn't believe him for a second. "Fine? Tripped?" he repeated incredulously, frowning deeply as he stepped closer, his eyes scanning Adam's injuries with growing alarm. "Adam, you look like you just wrestled a truck and lost! Don't lie to me! This has John written all over it, doesn't it?"

  Adam just shook his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, avoiding Eric's worried gaze. He couldn't burden Eric with the full truth, couldn't risk drawing him further into the dangerous orbit of the Walkers. He pushed past his friend gently and headed straight inside the house.

  He spent a few minutes in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, wincing as it stung his cuts. He looked in the mirror, grimacing at the reflection – the bruises were already turning ugly shades of purple and blue.

  His body felt like one giant bruise. With trembling hands and slow, pained movements, he changed out of his dirty, slightly torn clothes into some clean ones Eric had lent him earlier. Every small action sent sharp reminders of the beating through his body.

  Feeling slightly more presentable, though no less battered, he headed back towards the front door. He needed to leave again, almost immediately. Staying here felt too risky now, both for him and for Eric's family. He couldn't bring John's attention to this house again.

  Eric intercepted him at the entrance, his expression still etched with deep concern. "Wait, Adam! You just got back! You look terrible! Where are you going now? You need to rest!"

  Adam paused at the door, turning back to face his worried friend. He managed a small, tired smile, trying to project a confidence he didn't entirely feel, trying to offer some reassurance, however thin. "Don't worry about me, Eric. Seriously," he said, his voice soft but carrying a newfound, strange sort of resolve. "Everything's fine. Better than fine, actually." He met Eric's confused gaze. "In fact… things are better than ever."

  And with that cryptic, utterly confusing statement, Adam turned and walked out the door, leaving Eric standing there speechless, watching him go, his heart filled with a mixture of confusion, deep concern, and a growing sense that his friend was caught up in something far more dangerous and complicated than he could possibly imagine.

  As Adam walked away from the safety of Eric's house for the second time, the bruises still throbbed, the pain was still a harsh reality, but beneath it all, a strange spark of excitement had ignited within him.

  The brutal ambush, the suffering, the humiliation – it hadn't broken him. Instead, it had burned away the last vestiges of his fear, his hesitation. His past was full of regret, failure, and powerlessness.

  But this moment, this crucible of pain, felt different. It felt like a turning point. For the first time since returning to the past, he felt the raw, thrilling edge of real change, real conflict. The game was truly on, and despite the danger, despite the pain, he felt oddly, fiercely alive.