The uncle moved the signboard that was propped up on the wall to block the exit, and walked up to me to make sure I didn't run away or change my clothes

I just froze with a wry, unsure, strained smile on my face, feeling like I had a frozen slab of steel in my head. While feeling that sensation, I watched the uncle's fingertips touch my shoulder. His hand moved from my shoulder to my back, from my back to my neck, and from my neck to my ear

He grabbed my face with his other hand, and his face closed in... His face was not that of an adult who would scold me, but that of an adult who would look at my pants, which had been stained while I was thinking about naughty things, or the embarrassing protrusion of my breasts, which had hardened from rubbing against my gym clothes.