The school hallway was quiet that afternoon. Chelsea walked with light steps, clutching her science textbook to her chest. A small smile played on her lips; her quiz score was perfect, and she couldn't wait to share the news. However, Chelsea's steps halted right beside the slightly ajar classroom door.
A distinct, all-too-familiar voice drifted from inside.
"Honestly, Laras. I just don't get why Mr. Hendra gave Chelsea such a high score."
It was Thomas.
Chelsea's smile vanished. Her heart began to pound uncomfortably. Her instincts told her to leave, but her feet were rooted to the spot, pressing against the wall.
"What do you mean?" Laras's voice replied, sounding hesitant yet curious.
"She doesn't deserve Rank 4, Ras. You should be in that position," Thomas's tone sounded casual, analytical, as if he were dissecting a dead frog rather than discussing a friend. "Chelsea only wins on diligence. She's the type of student who memorizes textbooks down to the punctuation marks, but she's a big zero when it comes to logic. The teachers only give her good grades out of pity because they see her trying 'so hard.' Unlike you, who is naturally gifted."
Chelsea's chest tightened, as if an invisible hand were squeezing her lungs until they collapsed.
"Ah, really? She's your friend from elementary school, isn't she? Isn't she smart?" Laras asked again.
"Precisely because I'm her friend from elementary school, I know her brain capacity. Standard. Average," Thomas answered lightly, without a shred of guilt. "She only has one lucky trait: she's good at sucking up to teachers."
Chelsea's tears fell uninvited.
All this time she had studied herself to death, refusing invitations to hang out, not to suck up, but to prove that hard work could beat talent. And Thomas—the person she supported when he was down, the person she gave a second chance—had just reduced all her struggles to one disgusting label: Sucking up.
Chelsea turned around. She ran toward the restroom, pouring out her tears in the furthest stall, letting the sound of running water mask her sobs.
***
Fifteen minutes later, the bell rang.
Chelsea entered the classroom with swollen eyes that she hid by keeping her head low. Unfortunately, that day, the Indonesian Literature teacher immediately assigned group projects.
"Group 3: Thomas, Chelsea, Aurel, Dustin, and Bagas. Please combine your desks. I need to go to the teacher's lounge for a moment. Discuss the assignment with your groups first. I'll be back shortly."
It felt like the world was collapsing. Chelsea had to sit at the same table as the person who had just flayed her dignity. with heavy steps, Chelsea dragged her chair over.
Thomas sat at the head of the table. He twirled his pen, his face flat and calm, as if the cruel sentences in the hallway had never left his mouth. To Thomas, it wasn't an insult; it was just data observation.
The atmosphere at the table was suffocatingly awkward. Aurel, a quiet student who was easily nervous, looked timid. Bagas was busy with his phone, while Dustin tried to break the ice.
"Whoa, our group is scary. Led by the Class Champion," Dustin chuckled while patting Thomas's shoulder, sucking up as usual. "Getting an A will be easy with Thomas here. Right, Tom? I'll just handle the prayers and logistics, okay?"
Thomas brushed Dustin's hand away gently. "No one is just doing prayers. We all have to work. I want us to get the best grade."
Dustin laughed awkwardly. "Geez, so serious, Mr. Chairman. Relax a little."
Chelsea chose to remain silent, pretending to read her worksheet. Her heart still stung, but she tried to be professional.
"Okay, let's assign tasks immediately," Thomas opened his notebook without preamble. His eyes scanned the group members. "We have to make a paper and a novel analysis presentation. I'll handle the outline, the main content, and the final editing so it's perfect."
Thomas's eyes shifted to Aurel. "Aurel, you take the intrinsic analysis part. Find at least three supporting journals. Can you do that?"
Aurel's face went pale instantly. "Eh? U-uh, Tom... intrinsic analysis? What are the details on that? I mean... I'm a bit weak when asked to dissect literature like this. The language is difficult..."
Thomas looked baffled by Aurel's incompetence.
"Okay, in that case, you don't do the analysis," Thomas cut in sharply. "You just make the presentation slides. Just copy the points Bagas gives you later. Make the design good, okay?"
Aurel grew even more restless. Her hands crumpled her uniform skirt. "That... my laptop is broken, Tom. Besides, I'm tech-illiterate when it comes to PowerPoint design. I'm afraid it'll be ugly and drag your grade down..."
"Then what can you do?" Thomas's voice rose slightly. Dustin and Bagas, who had been joking around, suddenly stopped upon hearing Thomas's sentence.
Aurel went silent for a moment. Her eyes glazed over with tears. "L-let me print the paper later, or I can bind it..."
Thomas looked at Aurel with disbelief.
"This isn't an arts and crafts project, Aurel. Binding the paper?" Thomas's voice was cold and piercing. "We are about to take exams, Aurel. You can't think, you can't do technical stuff—what can you actually do?" Thomas continued with an expression of pure disappointment.
"Tom, that's enough," Dustin tried to intervene, his face turning serious as he saw Aurel's tears fall. "Have some pity on her, man."
"Thomas really has no filter on his mouth," whispered Bagas to Dustin.
Thomas turned to Dustin with a face full of genuine confusion. Truly confused. "Why pity? I'm just speaking facts, Tin. If she doesn't contribute, our grade goes down. I just want to be fair."
To Thomas, he wasn't being mean. He just wanted the best for this group project.
"ENOUGH, THOMAS!"
The shout startled the entire class, making everyone turn their heads. It wasn't from Dustin, nor Aurel.
Chelsea stood up from her chair. The chair screeched loudly against the floor. Her breath was ragged. Her face was flushed deep red—a mixture of accumulated heartbreak, the morning's incident, and rage at seeing Thomas's cruelty that the perpetrator didn't even realize he was committing.
Thomas turned slowly. "Wh... why, Chels?"
"Shut your mouth, Thomas!"
Chelsea's voice cracked, trembling violently between sobs and exploding anger.
"Who... who do you think you are? Hah?!" Chelsea pointed a shaking finger at Thomas's face. "You think just because you're smart, you have the right to trample on other people's dignity? Aurel just said she couldn't do it; as the leader, you should be teaching her, not insulting her!"
Thomas blinked, seeming to process the information. "I wasn't insulting her, Chel. I just want her to contribute."
"To hell with your logic!" Chelsea cut him off roughly.
The whole class held its breath. A gripping silence blanketed the room.
"You say we're stupid? You say we're incompetent?" Chelsea stared deep into Thomas's eyes, channeling all her wounds. "Just so you know, Thomas... at least we have hearts! Unlike you. You're just an arrogant, empty robot!"
Thomas fell silent. His mouth opened slightly, wanting to defend himself with logic, but Chelsea wasn't finished.
Chelsea wiped her tears roughly.
"Back then... back then you bullied people with your physique," Chelsea's voice lowered, but it rang out clearly in the silent room. "Now, you bully people with your words. You feel superior, but actually, you've never changed."
"I have changed!" Thomas finally raised his voice, his face looking confused and defensive at being accused so wildly. "I don't bully people anymore! I just want you guys to improve! I'm helping you do the assignment—"
"Helping?" Chelsea laughed bitterly. A laugh that sounded painful. "You call that helping? Do you realize, every time you teach someone, you always end it with a condescending line: 'How can you not even do that?'"
Chelsea's breath hitched, her eyes glaring wildly at Thomas.
"You make your help feel like an insult, Thomas! You make other people feel stupid just so you can look great! That is the same as bullying. You are mean. You are selfish."
Thomas felt cornered. He turned to the side, looking for support.
"Dustin, you know me, right? I'm not a bad person, right?" Thomas asked with a tone demanding validation. "I always give you guys the answers. I'm good, right?"
Dustin remained silent. His mouth was locked tight. He looked away, not daring to meet Thomas's eyes. Dustin's silence was an answer that slapped Thomas harder than any shout could.
Seeing Thomas bewildered because no one at the table defended him, Chelsea's anger slowly receded, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. Meanwhile, the other groups awkwardly resumed their discussions.
Chelsea slumped back against her chair. Her breathing was still heavy, but she was no longer shouting. She looked at Thomas with a gaze that was hard to interpret—a mix of disgust and pity. "I can't believe you actually think you're a good person..." Chelsea murmured softly, shaking her head slowly.
Her voice was low, audible only to the five of them at the table. Aurel, who had been crying earlier, was now silent, holding her breath. Bagas went back to playing with his phone; the atmosphere at the table suddenly felt cold and suffocating.
Chelsea leaned her body forward slightly, closer to Thomas.
"You don't realize it, do you? Before, you destroyed people physically; now you destroy people mentally," Chelsea whispered, stabbing directly into his core. "The tools are different, but the result is the same. You are still a destroyer, Thomas."
Thomas wanted to object, opening his mouth to unleash his logical arguments, but Chelsea cut him off quickly.
"It reminds me of Dimas."
That name made Thomas's tongue go numb. Bagas and Dustin looked at each other with tense faces. They all knew that name.
"You must feel that the incident in elementary school was just an accident, right? Just a childish prank?" Chelsea smiled mirthlessly, her glassy eyes staring intensely at Thomas. "Just so you know, Tom... Dimas is permanently paralyzed after falling from that table."
Silence.
Amidst the low hum of other students discussing in the corners of the classroom, Group 3's table seemed soundproof. Time froze there.
Aurel's eyes widened in horror, her hand covering her mouth. Dustin swallowed hard.
"Para... lyzed?" Thomas whispered, choked. His face, previously full of intellectual arrogance, was now deathly pale, the blood seeming to drain from his head.
Chelsea nodded slowly. "And I suspect you were the one who did it, right? You deliberately pulled the table leg when he climbed up. You thought it was funny."
"No! It wasn't!" Thomas denied reflexively. "It... that table broke on its own! I didn't break it..." Thomas stammered, his breath coming in short gasps, cold sweat starting to wet his temples. "It was an accident, Chels! I swear to God."
Chelsea didn't argue. She just looked at Thomas with a hollow gaze, a look that made Thomas feel incredibly small.
"You always have a reason, Tom. Before, the excuse was a joke; now, the excuse is logic," Chelsea said, delivering her final verdict as she opened her textbook again, breaking eye contact.
"You think because you're smart now, your sins are erased? No. Your achievements mean nothing. In my eyes, you are still the same destructive monster."
Chelsea started reading her book, as if Thomas were no longer there. Aurel shifted her chair slightly away from Thomas. Dustin and Bagas looked down, neither daring to make a sound.
Thomas sat frozen in his chair. Isolated in the middle of a crowded class.
His gaze was empty, staring at the whiteboard in front. But inside his head, the memory replayed in high resolution, shattering his defenses.
Paralyzed? Permanent?
Thomas's empty stare fell to the desk. His body was stiff, but his memory came alive with terrifying clarity.
He remembered the sensation on his back perfectly. The sensation when he leaned his entire body weight to prop up the leg of Dimas's rickety table, holding it for a moment... and then that fatal second where he deliberately shifted his body away suddenly, just to see his friends laugh.
I didn't mean to make him paralyzed, Thomas's mind screamed in silence, feeling like he wanted to vomit. I just wanted to pull a prank. I just wanted to be funny...
But no one was laughing now.
The walls of logic and arrogance he had built so painstakingly cracked instantly. They crumbled into dust. For the first time since becoming "The Genius," Thomas didn't feel smart. He felt stupid. Extremely stupid and dirty.
Destructive Monster.
The words rang in his ears, buzzing louder than any applause he had ever received.