Stafan had always been the one who hit others but had never been struck himself. His eyes welled with tears.
He covered his cheeks with both hands while retreating backwards.
As if his cheeks had been burned, the pain slowly began to spread.
“Y-you bashtard! You shink you can get awhay vithe thish?!”
His swollen red cheeks throbbed every time he spoke.
“I can’t?”
“Of courshe not! You imbeshile! Who do you shink I am!”
“A fool.”
He easily closed the distance that Stafan had put between them and— Slap! Once again, Stafan’s cheeks burned.
“Shtaaahp! Please shtahp it!”
Stafan covered his cheeks like a child being scolded by his parents.