When pain becomes the first survival lesson - this is not a cool novel, it is a crushed soul picking up broken glass.
He had no golden fingers, only clumsy counterattacks: picking up the steamed buns that fell on the floor and eating them, stamping mud marks on the bully's vouchers, and etching the burns under his mother's apron into his memory. When the tooth marks on the back of his neck turned into snakes in his heart, and when the gilding of the school badge faded into rust in his eyes, he finally understood: the rules of this world are a cage woven by the strong with gentle lies.
This is the birth record of a "bad boy": he is not born evil, but after being slapped repeatedly by reality, he learns to use the other party's logic to sharpen his bones. Those knives buried in the details - the spicy strips stains in the men's bathroom, mother's band-aids, rusty scissors - will one day cut through the surface of the world, allowing everyone who has trampled on it to see the throne of darkness rising in the shadows.
