“Oh my, isn't this Donald? How unexpected. We haven't seen each other in over ten years, yet you haven't changed much.”
Donald turned around and saw a man in a black suit with a face as fair as a woman's standing behind him.
Six or seven subordinates holding files surrounded that man, creating a scene as if they were desperately clinging to him so he could handle the paperwork at all times.
“Who are you?” Donald asked with a frown.
The corner of that man's lips twitched as he grimaced.
“Donald, you sure are forgetful. How can you not remember me? It's me, Hacon Whetton.”
Hacon Whetton?
Donald racked his brain, finally connecting the image of a bespectacled kid from childhood with that effeminate man before him.
Hacon used to be the class monitor when they were in elementary school.
While good at academics, he spent most of his time with girls and despised boys.
When they were little, an unmanly boy like Hacon was hated by all the boys, not to mention he was fond of tattling.
Once, during gym class, Donald didn't run laps but instead found a spot to rest.
Hacon, who had seen that, insisted on taking Donald to the teacher by taking advantage of his position as the disciplinary committee officer.
Annoyed with Hacon, Donald kicked him right in the groin.
Unexpectedly, that kick ended up bursting one of Hacon's testes.
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