Don't Bite Me

Chapter 13: Don't Bite Me

Tall and thin as a mantis, with messy hair and round-rimmed glasses, Gregg was regarded as a freak at school for his hobby of collecting insects. He was timid by nature and always avoided others' gazes.

Even the school bullies couldn't be bothered to pick on someone who spent all his time with filthy bugs.

The night was deep. Gregg, dressed in a black tuxedo, returned home in low spirits.

He still lacked the courage to attend the dance. He'd almost reached the school before turning back.

Recently, one of the containers holding his precious insects had accidentally been left open, and while he slept, they'd bitten a face full of red spots.

He couldn't show up at the dance looking like this—not in front of the person who haunted his dreams.

In the bright living room.

Slap!

"Is this why you've been holed up in your room all day, Gregg?"

Seeing her son return, Gregg's mother wore an ugly expression as she tossed a stack of photos and a few videotapes onto the sofa.

Photos of his classmate Lana, taken from various angles—some during the day, some at night, some on her way home... They looked like something a pervert would take. The videotapes contained the same content.

"You can't just barge into my room without my permission!"

Gregg shouted angrily, frantically gathering up his treasured collection.

"How could you do this? I'm in the same club as Lana's aunt, Niall. My son's been secretly photographing her niece—how am I supposed to face her?"

Gregg's mother's voice grew emotional, on the verge of tears.

"I can't let you keep going like this."

She'd been too careless, too respectful of her son's privacy, never questioning his habits—and it had led him to become this.

Secretly photographing a female classmate, spending all day in his room raising bugs, growing more sullen, cutting himself off from others.

"Tomorrow morning, I'm calling Clemont Military Academy."

If this continued, she couldn't imagine what her son would become.

"Absolutely not! If I leave, what about my bugs?!"

"It's time you got rid of that weird hobby of yours. Tomorrow, I'm throwing out every last bug in that room." Seeing him shout at her so rudely over those insects only made her more agitated.

Bang!

He strode quickly to his room and slammed the door shut.

Gregg looked at the butterflies, beetles, and spiders collected in jars and bottles, his expression calming. In a voice almost as infatuated as if speaking to a lover, he murmured:

"You're all so beautiful. No one's going to hurt you. I'll take you somewhere safe."

The soil in the jars, where the insects lived, gave off a faint, beautiful green glow.

It came from a meteorite he'd found in the night some time ago. He'd crushed it and added it to each jar, making them glow in the dark—even more beautiful.

He'd even given a glowing butterfly as a gift to the girl he secretly loved.

"I wonder what Lana's face looked like when she got the gift. Too bad I didn't get a picture."

After packing everything up, Gregg wore that same obsessive expression he reserved for his insects.

He loaded all the jars and bottles into his car, planning to take them to the abandoned treehouse from his childhood and leave them there.

He could hide up there too, and avoid being sent to military school.

Click!

"Gregg, where are you going?!"

The beat-up old car started. Gregg sped onto the road, ignoring his mother's shouts behind him. A cold smirk on his lips, he headed straight for the treehouse from his childhood.

But he hadn't driven far. Just outside town, he hit a muddy pothole.

Crash!

The inertia sent the jars and bottles tumbling to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Freed, the insects—carrying meteorite dust—swarmed the cramped car, attacking Gregg as he drove.

"No—don't bite me!"

Needle-like pain shot through him. Gregg couldn't bear it. The wheel jerked, and the car veered into the grass by the roadside.

Glowing green bugs frenziedly gnawed at his body.

"Aaaah..."

Gregg's screams echoed far into the deserted outskirts. Eventually, his voice faded, and he fell unconscious.

In the school auditorium, after a scare that left everyone weak-kneed and trembling, they were all soaked through, drenched like drowned rats. The dance couldn't go on.

Someone called the police. The town's officers arrived quickly to investigate. Hearing that children had nearly been attacked, parents rushed over one after another to take their kids home.

The quiet night was shattered. In an instant, the school entrance was nearly blocked by ambulances, police cars, and vehicles driven by parents.

"David! Clark!"

Jonathan and Martha had rushed over after getting the news, but couldn't spot either of their sons in the crowd.

"Chloe, have you seen them?"

Martha asked the young girl who'd left a strong impression on her after visiting their farm before.

"I'm not sure, Aunt Martha."

Chloe, wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the school steps with her father beside her, replied, "They should be fine."

"Dad, Mom, we're over here."

Clark called out as the couple searched.

"Clark, where were you?" Chloe asked the question that had been nagging her.

"I... David and I didn't have dates. The dance got boring halfway through, so we stepped outside for some air."

Clark and David walked over. Spotting Chloe and Pete's parents there too, Clark scratched the back of his head.

His lie wasn't smooth, and he was a bit nervous.

But no one thought much of it. Everyone was too shaken up tonight.

"Are you two okay?"

Jonathan glanced at his younger son's fresh change of clothes, patted his shoulder, and asked both boys.

"I'm fine, Father."

David smiled at his concerned father, and Clark also said he was okay.

Jonathan looked around, subtly signaling his worried wife not to ask too many questions just yet.

The couple knew that the attacker had vanished without a trace. Odds were, their eldest son had handled it.

And both boys were wearing clothes that should've been neatly folded in the closet at home—something had definitely happened.

"Are you Clark Kent and David Kent?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where were you when it happened?"

"We..."

The town police came by for routine questioning. They didn't suspect Clark and David, who'd left early. Based on witness accounts, the boys' builds were nothing like that skinny figure.

Plus, whether it was an attack or a prank hadn't been determined yet—no need to make a big deal out of it.

Given that the guy had scared a whole roomful of people half to death and then vanished, it was probably the latter.

"Too bad. Tonight was supposed to be a nice evening for the kids, Jonathan."

"As long as the kids are okay."

The parents chatted a bit, then everyone took their children home.

"So, it really wasn't a prank?"

At home, Jonathan and Martha sat on the couch, looking at their two sons.

"Someone who can generate electricity?"

The couple exchanged a surprised glance.