Chapter 25 - What's My Name? Max sat firmly on top of Joe. They were about the same size, but with the damage Max had already dealt, Joe was struggling. No matter how much he squirmed, Max shifted his weight just right, keeping him pinned with brutal efficiency. "Answer the question!" Max snapped, placing his hand over Joe's index finger. "What do you mean?! Why are we targeting you?!" Joe shouted in desperation. "It's because it's you! You're weak—you never fight back! You're an easy target! As for why it started... I don't know! I just followed Ko's lead, that's all!" 'Just as I thought,' Max mused. 'A follower. A sheep. Not even on Max's list. Probably bullied him just like the others... but never had the guts to think for himself.' "Alright, then answer this," Max said, leaning in closer. "What's my name?" "Your name?" Joe's voice cracked. His entire body tensed, confused. It seemed like such a simple question. "It's... Max Smith. You're Max Smith." Max's grip around Joe's finger tightened—and without a second's hesitation, he yanked. CRACK. A sickening crunch filled the air. Joe let out a piercing scream. "ARGHH!" Joe screamed, his voice echoing off the storage room walls. He wasn't even sure what hurt more—the sharp pain or the shock of it all. Feeling the unnatural bend in his finger, there was no doubt. It was broken. Before he could recover, he felt Max's grip shift, his other hand now holding onto a different finger. "Why... why?!" Joe sobbed. "I told you the truth! Your name is Max Smith! Max Smith!" "I know," Max said calmly. "But here's the thing—I needed you to understand that my threats aren't empty. That I'm serious." His tone was cold, measured, far too composed for someone in the middle of torturing a classmate. "Now you'll think twice about lying. Because every time you do, you'll remember this pain. And wonder if I'll take another finger." Joe was trembling. His mind raced with a single thought: This guy is nuts. Completely unhinged. Did all the bullying finally push him over the edge? Has he been secretly training, waiting for the right moment to explode? Max leaned in, eyes narrowed. "Since you're so good at following orders, then answer this—why is Ko targeting me? Did he ever tell you? Ever hint at a reason?" Joe gulped, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I..." Joe stammered, fear overtaking every inch of his body. He couldn't say he didn't know—he wouldn't. Not after what had just happened. If he gave another empty answer, another finger might go. So he searched, desperately digging through his memories for anything—any scrap of useful information. "Ko... Ko follows orders from the school's top dog," Joe finally said. "He's not in our class. He's in Class 5A. Every class has a leader—Ko runs ours—but they all answer to him. The guy in 5A." "If anyone knows the real reason we target you," Joe continued, "it's Ko... or that guy." Max took that in silently, nodding to himself. It reminded him of his own school days—a structure just like this. Each class had a so-called 'boss' to keep the delinquents in check, and all of them reported to one kingpin. Back then... that kingpin had been him. "I see," Max muttered. "So in the end... Ko is the one I need to go after." Then his tone changed slightly. "One more thing. Do any of these names mean anything to you?" He didn't wait for an answer. Max began listing off the names—the names from the video. The ones the original Max Stern had blamed. He went down the list, watching Joe's eyes, until— "Stop!" Joe shouted. "I know one... the one you said before. Dipter Carl. I know who that is." It was the last name Max had mentioned, and he was grateful he'd finally hit something—a second name from the list. Finally, someone other than Ko. "He's the one Ko answers to," Joe confirmed. "The leader of this whole school." Max could understand if one bully had it out for someone. Schools were breeding grounds for people looking to feel powerful—whether to vent frustration, inflate their ego, or compensate for their miserable lives. But that kind of bullying usually stayed within a classroom, within a clique. This wasn't that. Dipter wasn't even in the same class. There was no real reason for him to be involved. And yet, he was. He was the top guy in the school, and he'd taken interest in Max? 'Why would someone like that target you?' Max wondered. 'And why would so many people... people who barely even know you... all have it out for you?' The deeper Max dug into this life, the more twisted things became. Based on the information he was piecing together, this wasn't just schoolyard bullying. It was a full-on setup—and it was starting to feel far more dangerous than he had originally thought. Technically, Max had already lost his life once. And now, he had a growing suspicion that the other Max—the one whose body he now inhabited, had nearly lost his as well. And if that happened again, he had a feeling there wouldn't be a third chance. He needed to be careful. More than ever. Finally, Max stood up, stepping off of Joe, but as Joe tried to rise, Max pressed his foot down firmly on his back, pinning him to the ground once more. "Not so fast," Max said. "You're the only person I know right now who might be useful to me. So you're going to do a little digging." "Digging?" Joe groaned. "Come on, man. You're trying to drag me into something deeper—look, I swear, I won't touch you again. Just leave me out of it." Max crouched down slightly, his voice low and calm. "No. You're going to keep playing your part. Keep acting like nothing's changed. Keep treating me the same." "But," he continued, "while you're doing that... you'll also be my eyes and ears inside your little pretend gang." Joe's eyes widened in panic. "What? No—you don't get it. You don't know what Dipter's like. If he finds out—if he even suspects—he'll..." "I'll pay you." Max cut him off. Joe blinked. "You send me your E-wallet," Max said coolly. "Five hundred a month. As long as you keep your mouth shut and do everything I tell you to." Five hundred wasn't life-changing. But to a high schooler, it was money most of them would never see all at once. Max could already tell, he didn't need Joe to answer. He lifted his foot. Joe was already reaching for his phone. "All right... I'll do it," Joe muttered, holding out his phone with his E-wallet QR code pulled up. Eventually, both Max and Joe returned to the classroom just as first period had ended. With the teachers rotating in and out between classes, their late return slipped under the radar, exactly how Max had planned it. Joe kept one hand buried in his pocket. He had already made a quick visit to the nurse's office, claiming he'd tripped and landed on his hand. It was now wrapped and braced, but the real reason behind the injury couldn't be revealed, not even to Ko. Fortunately, some of the swelling in his face had gone down during the break, and with enough acting, he might just sell it. As they walked past the desks, Joe gave Max a half-hearted kick to the back, enough to make a scene, but not enough to hurt. "And stay in your seat, got it?" Joe barked. His voice carried just enough force to fool the crowd, though the tremble in his tone was still there for anyone really listening. Ko laughed from his desk as he glanced over. "You two were gone for a while. What—have too much fun or something?" His eyes narrowed when he focused on Max. "Wait a minute... I told you to make him suffer. He barely looks touched." Joe was tense, he could feel his heart thumping so hard it was like it wanted to leap out of his throat. "Oh, that... yeah, a teacher showed up in the middle of it," Joe lied smoothly. "We had to cut things short. They sent us back to class, so... I didn't get to do much." Remembering the earlier interruption, he figured it was a believable enough excuse to sell. "I knew it," Ko muttered, clenching his fist. "Damn teacher got in the way, huh?" His eyes drifted across the room, locking onto Sam, who sat stiffly in the corner, clearly trying to make himself invisible. "Then that means..." Ko growled. "That damn pig opened his mouth and told someone." His eyes narrowed with venom. "He's going to pay for that."