Ark Alley

Jaotontai still wore his black wrestling singlet, sweat drying on his skin as he cut through Ark Alley, a narrow path choked with shadows and secrets.

He paused near a wall, looking around. Empty. Quiet. He unzipped, the silence broken by the sound of running water.

Click.

A camera shutter.

He spun around. Three seniors stood behind him, smirking — Phong, Keng, and Moss.

“Caught you,” Phong said, holding up his phone.

“Delete it,” Jaotontai said, voice tight.

“Come with us,” Keng grinned. “Or it goes online.”

A cold knot formed in Jaotontai’s stomach.

They led him to a cheap motel nearby. Inside, things turned strange. Teasing turned sharp. Laughter turned quiet. They tied his hands, said it was a joke. Left him by the bathroom door while they argued in hushed tones.

But Jaotontai didn’t beg.

He watched them.

And they noticed.

The mood shifted. One by one, they grew uneasy under his steady gaze — no tears, no fear. Just something unreadable. Still.

“You’re weird, man,” Moss muttered.

Jaotontai didn’t blink.

They untied him. Left the room first.

He walked out alone, the photo never posted.

They never bothered him again.

No one ever found out why.