I was terrified to go to school today.
The thought had been gnawing at me since I woke up at 5 AM, staring at the ceiling of my small room as the first rays of sunlight crept through the curtains. My body felt heavy, my limbs like lead, and every fiber of my being screamed at me to stay in bed. To hide under the covers and pretend the world outside didn't exist.
But I still did.
I couldn't let Mom down. She had already left for work by the time I dragged myself out of bed, leaving a warm breakfast on the table with a cheerful note: "Have a great day, my genius! ♡"
I stared at that note for a long time, my chest tight with guilt. She had no idea what I was walking into. And I couldn't tell her. I couldn't burden her with this. She already worked so hard—double shifts, overtime, sacrificing her own happiness for mine. If she found out her son was getting bullied at the best school in the country, she'd blame herself. She'd probably make me transfer, and then everything we'd worked for would be for nothing.
So I put on my uniform, forced down my breakfast, and walked to the bus stop like nothing was wrong.
I've just gotta bear with it till graduation.
The thought echoed in my mind as the bus rumbled through the streets of Seoul. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, and tried to convince myself it was possible. Three years. I just had to survive three years. Then I'd graduate, go to a great university, get a good job, and make Mom proud. I could endure anything for that.
But I'll graduate after three years...
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Three years was a long time. An eternity. Could I really survive that long? My fingers trembled as I clutched my bag strap, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.
Anyways, just bear it for Mum. That's all that matters.
---
The moment I stepped through the school gates, my anxiety spiked. Every corner seemed to hide a threat. Every whisper felt like it was about me. I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the ground, and walked as quickly as I could to Class 10-A without making eye contact with anyone.
I sat in my seat, trying to concentrate on the lecture, but my mind kept drifting to yesterday's incident. The image of Hyunwoo's bloodied face. Daejung's cold glare. Cheng's mocking smile. The paper ball with its threatening message. I couldn't shake any of it.
Soon the bell rang, and as soon as the teacher left the class, I felt something hit my head. Then another. And another. Pencil shavings and bits of crumpled paper rained down on me like confetti—but this was no celebration.
I bit my bottom lip and lowered my head, my hands clenching into fists beneath the desk. Don't react. Don't give them the satisfaction. Just ignore them.
I decided to do as Jisung said this time. Which is to not provoke them any further. I could hear their laughter, cruel and sharp, cutting through the classroom chatter. My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I forced myself to stay still, to not look up.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Cheng said loudly, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "I thought you were a trash can."
More laughter erupted from his friends. I kept my head down, my jaw tight, and began removing the trash from my hair with shaking hands. Small pieces of paper and graphite dust clung to my uniform, and I could feel the eyes of my classmates on me—some curious, some pitying, most just relieved it wasn't them.
But then I felt a hand on my jaw.
Daejung grabbed my face roughly, his fingers digging into my skin as he forced me to look up at him. His grip was iron-tight, and I could smell the expensive cologne he wore, clashing with the sharp scent of his cruelty.
"Did you forget your guts at home?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Where did all your bravery from yesterday go?"
Even though his lips were curved into a smile, his eyes looked like he was ready to kill. They were cold, empty, devoid of any humanity. I felt my breath hitch, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it through his grip.
I opened my mouth to respond—what, I didn't know—but just then, the door opened and the teacher entered the class. Daejung released me roughly, shoving my face to the side as he stepped back. But before he turned away, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear.
"This isn't over yet."
---
Lunch break came far too quickly.
I could feel the anxiety growing inside me like a living thing, coiling in my stomach and squeezing my chest. My hands were clammy as I gathered my things, my mind racing with escape plans.
Calm down, Junseo... It will be fine. Just stay quiet. Keep your head down. They'll get bored eventually.
I knew I was only feeding myself empty words. People like Daejung and Cheng didn't get bored—they fed on fear. And I had made the mistake of showing them mine.
I glanced around the classroom, hoping for some kind of support, some sign that I wasn't completely alone. But Jungwon, Jisung, and Hanbin didn't even look in my direction. They were huddled together, whispering, their backs turned to me as if I didn't exist. It was like I was invisible to the whole class.
I couldn't blame them. They had warned me. They had told me to stay out of it. And I hadn't listened.
Maybe I should stay at the library for recess then—
My thoughts were cut short when Cheng threw his arm around my shoulder, his grip deceptively friendly. His face was close to mine, his smile wide and predatory.
"Where are you going, lil bitch?" he snickered, his voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Why don't you come with us? I'm so happy that you didn't skip school today."
Before I could protest, he was dragging me out of the classroom, his fingers digging into my shoulder. I stumbled to keep up, my heart racing, my mind screaming at me to run. But my legs wouldn't obey. They felt like they were made of concrete.
Cheng pushed open the door to the rooftop, and the cold air hit me like a slap. The sky was gray, the wind biting, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
I saw them all there—Daejung, Minseok, Baekhyun, and Jaesung—lounging near the railing like they owned the place. And then I saw Hyunwoo, pale and trembling, standing off to the side like a cornered animal.
"Oh, if it isn't our new hero of justice!" cheered Baekhyun, clapping his hands together. "What took you so long? Were you protecting someone else this time?"
"Quit kidding, Baek. He can't even protect himself," Jaesung said, his arms crossed, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Minseok stepped forward, his smile cruel. "Hyunwoo, dear, let's see how loyal you are to your 'hero.'"
I looked at Hyunwoo, searching his face for some sign of defiance, some hint that he might stand up for me the way I had stood up for him. But his eyes were downcast, his shoulders hunched, and I could see the fear radiating off him in waves.
I don't know what they are planning, but I don't have a good feeling about it...
Daejung held up two fingers, his expression almost bored. "So Hyunwoo, you have two options here. First: you share your 'position' with Junseo. And second: let Junseo replace you."
Considering that I tried to help him yesterday, I hope he can stand up. I hope he can be brave.
But hope was a fragile thing.
"Se-second! I choose the second option." Hyunwoo's voice cracked, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. He didn't even look at me. He couldn't meet my eyes.
Jaesung scoffed, while the rest of them burst into laughter—loud, mocking, triumphant.
"You're free to go then," Cheng said to Hyunwoo, waving his hand dismissively.
Hyunwoo didn't hesitate. He dashed toward the stairs like his life depended on it, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared from sight.
I had forgotten that Cheng was standing behind me. I felt like I had lost my voice, my throat tight and dry. Betrayal washed over me, cold and sharp. I had risked everything for him—my safety, my friendships, my peace of mind—and he had thrown me under the bus without a second thought.
"Looks like he wasn't loyal to you, Seonie," Minseok said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Then let's start with the orientation ceremony!" Cheng cheered, clapping his hands together.
"Why don't you do the honor, Jaesung hyung?" asked Daejung.
"It would be my pleasure."
Jaesung pulled out a bottle filled with some thick brown liquid. It sloshed ominously as he held it up, his grin wide and menacing.
"Drink up," he said. "It won't kill you."
I shook my head frantically, taking a step back. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, a frantic drumbeat of panic.
Cheng grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, and I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I could feel my palms getting sweaty, and I'm pretty sure the desperation to escape was written all over my face. I looked around wildly, searching for an exit, for anything, but there was none.
"Geez... I don't know why you all refuse," Jaesung sighed, shaking his head. "It's not that hard to finish this. Don't blame me for what I'm about to do."
He brought the bottle to my mouth, and the smell hit me first—sickeningly sweet and sour at the same time, like fermented garbage mixed with chemicals. It made me gag, my stomach lurching violently.
"Open up," he cooed, and then he forced the bottle between my lips.
The liquid touched my tongue, and I immediately knew I would throw up. It was vile—burning and bitter and rotten all at once. What the fuck is that thing?! I couldn't swallow. I couldn't breathe. I spit the liquid out with a violent cough, retching as the foul taste coated my mouth.
But I accidentally spat it in Jaesung's face.
The brown liquid dripped down his cheeks, splattering across his pristine white shirt. For a moment, everyone froze. The silence was deafening.
Then I looked up, and my blood ran cold.
Jaesung's face was red with anger, his eyes blazing with murderous fury. He cracked his knuckles, each pop like a gunshot in the quiet.
"Now you've done it, boy..."
He threw a punch at my face, but this time I ducked and dodged it. The movement was instinctive, pure survival. But it only made things worse.
Someone kicked my back, and I fell face-first onto the cold concrete. The impact jarred my entire body, and before I could even gasp, another kick was thrown at my stomach. The air was knocked out of me in a painful whoosh. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I could only curl into myself, pulling my knees to my chest and covering my head with my arms as the blows rained down.
"That's what you get, you bastard!" someone shouted I couldn't tell who, the voices were blending together. "Just because you're a student in this school doesn't mean that you're the same as everyone here! Don't forget the sewer you fucking rat came from!"
Kicks landed on my ribs, my back, my legs. Pain exploded through every nerve, hot and blinding. I could taste blood in my mouth, copper and sharp. My vision swam with tears, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted more blood.
I just want it to stop...
My ears were ringing. My vision was blurry. I could barely hear their laughter over the pounding in my head.
It's difficult to breathe... Please... Someone, please help—
I stopped thinking as I coughed again, and blood dripped from my nose in a steady stream. I knew my lip was busted, swollen and raw. My back was probably badly bruised, maybe worse. Every breath was agony.
And then, suddenly, the kicks stopped.
"That's enough," said Daejung.
Through my blurred vision, I saw him standing off to the side, his hands in his pockets, his expression one of mild boredom. He hadn't joined in hitting me, but he had clearly been entertained by the show.
"Let's go. Recess is almost over. We don't want him to be badly injured on his first day now."
His words dripped with sarcasm. I heard them laugh as they walked away, their footsteps fading down the stairs.
I lay on the cold concrete for what felt like an eternity, trying to gather the strength to move. My body screamed in protest with every breath. I stared up at the gray sky, watching the clouds drift lazily overhead, and wondered how the world could be so beautiful when everything felt so broken.
Eventually, after what must have been ten minutes, I gathered the strength to stand. It took three tries. My legs buckled beneath me, and I had to brace myself against the railing, my hands shaking violently.
I looked down at myself. My uniform was torn and dirty, stained with blood from my nose and lip. My face was swollen, and I knew I'd have bruises by tomorrow. The pain was a constant throb, a reminder of what had just happened.
I made my way to the infirmary, taking the stairs slowly, one painful step at a time. When the nurse asked what happened, I forced a weak smile and told her I fell down the stairs.
She didn't look convinced. But she didn't push.
As she cleaned my wounds, I stared at the ceiling and let my mind drift. The betrayal sat heavy in my chest, a weight I couldn't shake. Hyunwoo's words echoed in my head: "I choose the second option."
I had stood up for him. I had risked everything. And he had left me to drown.
But even as the anger burned, I knew I couldn't dwell on it. I had bigger problems now. Daejung had made it clear—this was just the beginning.
I needed to survive. For Mom. For my dreams.
I just didn't know if I had the strength to do it alone.
---
To be continued...