The reason we have to fight is because we know that life is precious.
Even if Mom never says it out loud, deep down, I want to become someone they can rely on someone who makes them feel at ease and proud.
That's why we can't afford to die.
At the same time, we also have to stop ourselves from causing other people to die. Prison isn't some short vacation you can just walk away from. The more people you kill, the longer you stay sometimes with a lifetime sentence thrown in as a "bonus."
"So… you're not calling our parents, right?"
Tawan asked again, looking more timid than I'd ever seen him.
I felt both sorry for him and couldn't help wanting to laugh. The state of all of us was ridiculous swollen heads, bruised foreheads, split lips, puffed mouths like we'd been attacked by a swarm of bees.
"What are you so worried about?"
Mok stepped in, openly teasing his friend while trying to hold back his laughter.
"If you hadn't fought yesterday, you'd be dead already. Those guys don't have brains to analyze anything you saw that yourself."
Right in the middle of his forehead was a deep purple bump, standing out proudly.
The more I looked at it, the more it resembled a rhino's horn.
Thump!
"Ow!!"
"I know! That's exactly why I didn't want to lose!"
Tawan snapped back, suddenly fierce again after being laughed at. He reached out and grabbed Mok's thick arm. Mok pretended he was fine, but the moment he was touched, his shoulder slumped.
His stiff face twisted as he groaned dramatically, which made Tawan break into a satisfied grin.
"From now on, we're sworn brothers in crime, yeah? If anything happens, we tell each other so we can help out right, Lilith?"
Mok still tried to sound cool as he walked over and dropped down beside the smaller friend, his arm hanging uselessly.
"Yeah… just say it already. My jaw hurts."
The smaller one tilted his head, gesturing for him to go on, secretly agreeing that sticking together as a close-knit group wasn't a bad idea they got along like they'd known each other forever.
"My mom slapped me," Tawan said, showing the reddish handprint to the others.
"She hates it when I fight. She's afraid people will say her kid turned into a thug, just like my dad who died after picking a fight with some powerful people."
Lilith immediately pulled out some powder and gently dabbed it over the bruises, covering the marks until Tawan's face looked pale with powder.
As we sat there, seriously discussing whether our parents would be called in because of what happened yesterday, the tension on Tawan's face made it clear the friend who always wore a bright smile was really just putting up a shield to hide the pressure he was carrying.
Truth was, we were scared too.
Scared that this would affect our standing at the university, because none of the three of us came from wealthy families.
Strangely enough, most of us were raised by our mothers.
That was probably why we grew up gentle, and why we respected them so deeply.
We had to be strong because we were born male because somewhere in our hearts, we wanted to protect the woman we loved the most.
We had to fight for our dignity, without letting ourselves complain.
After all… we were men.
Hahaha~
Laughter echoed from the classroom doorway.
While we were drowning in seriousness, a group of high-society kids strutted into the room, faces glowing with delight as they loudly showed off their cosmetics, clothes, and expensive belongings—annoyingly loud, annoyingly carefree.
Rich kids with nothing better to do.
They didn't care about studying, didn't understand hardship. All they did was spend money and stir up trouble. They never had to try hard to make their parents proud everything they wanted was simply handed to them.
Meanwhile, kids from poor families worked their asses off.
Helping at home, studying hard, living frugally, struggling every day just to support their families yet they were always the ones people watched closely, waiting to see when they'd mess up.
The world really is cruel to good people.
"Oh? Look at that our department's so-called heroes. Three against twelve. Bet they think they're real cool."
"Yeah, right. People who only know how to use their fists always end up like that. Instead of apologizing like educated people, they go sticking their faces and heads into fists and feet. What do you call that kind of person again? Stupid, maybe? Hahaha!"
"They're ugly already, and now with swollen faces they look like bloated toads. Who would ever like guys like that? Tried to act tough and ended up wrecking their own faces~"
"Hey, you high-class mutts who the hell are you talking about? Say it straight! If you're so damn brave, try wearing your fancy jackets and walk into our faculty. Don't just talk big!"
"I didn't even say any names. Why so defensive?"
Tch—damn it.
Bzzzt—
The teacher's here.
Those short, high-society mutts always take every chance they get to bully people about their looks.
As if they're that beautiful themselves—please. They've probably been injecting filler instead of eating meals. Their faces are so tight they look like they're about to crack.
And that makeup like some cute cartoon character? Yeah, right. Gross.
The way they act all prissy, pursing their lips when they talk honestly, I feel like shoving their socks into their noses just to shut them up for good. Annoying and punchable, every last one of them. If it weren't for the connections they have at this university, I'd have jumped them already and beaten them senseless.
So damn full of themselves.
They're nothing but overhyped little mutts people only like them because they look "cute" and "high-class." Compared to me, they're nothing. I'm way hotter. If they're so confident, why don't we all strip down and see whose underwear is cuter, whose body is hotter!
"Guys, I'm going to the restroom first. I really need to pee."
"Mm."
Shorty Eve waddled out of the classroom, her short legs moving like a wind-up doll.
Fueled by pure irritation and a hot temper, I told my two close friends that I was going to the bathroom too then quietly followed that short brat in, step by step.
Bang!
You little runt… you're dead today. I'm in a bad mood, so you'll be my stress relief. Hahaha.
Her cute face twisted, lips pouting, eyes rolling at the person who had just entered the innermost stall of the restroom the only one with the door closed.
The small figure in a red shop jacket slowly walked in, pushing the janitor's mop bucket that hadn't been emptied yet.
Tap… tap… tap…
Click
Splashhh!!
"KYAAAAAA!!!"
…