Kim’s steps faltered as Min launched into a cold, unapologetic defense of her actions. “What’s the big deal?” she said, folding her arms. “They give me their money willingly. It’s not my fault they’re desperate for my attention. If anything, I’m doing them a favor. They get to bask in my company, and I get to live the life I deserve. It’s a fair trade.”
Her voice was calm, almost bored, as if discussing a mundane transaction. Kim stared at her, a knot of disbelief and anger tightening in his chest. “But don’t you feel even a little guilty?” he asked, his voice trembling. “You’re taking advantage of people who can barely afford to help themselves.”
Min laughed, a light, condescending sound that grated against Kim’s frayed nerves. “Guilty?” she echoed, tilting her head mockingly. “You don’t understand how this world works, do you? Morality is a luxury, and I can’t afford it if I want to get ahead. People like you will never understand the kind of pressure I’m under.”
“Pressure?” Kim repeated, his tone incredulous. “You’re not struggling to make ends meet or fighting to stay in school. How is living lavishly on other people’s money a kind of pressure?”
Min rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his argument. “You wouldn’t get it. Do you think people respect you for being a scholarship student? No. They respect wealth, power, and status. That’s how you survive here. If I have to play the game to get what I want, so be it.”
Beside Kim, Seo let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s some next-level rationalization,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Kim, are you really going to waste more time listening to this nonsense?”
Min’s gaze shifted to Seo, her eyes narrowing. “Who asked for your opinion?” she snapped.
Seo smirked, unfazed by her sharp tone. “No one. But I’ve got a feeling Kim needs to hear it. Listen, man,” he said, turning to Kim, “this isn’t just about her. People like Min are everywhere in this place. They’ll smile in your face, make you feel special, and then bleed you dry the moment they see an opportunity. You’ve got to figure out who’s worth trusting and who’s not.”
Kim felt the sting of Seo’s words, not because they were cruel but because they were true. His initial excitement about university life—the clubs, the connections, the sense of belonging—had been overshadowed by this harsh encounter. He’d been naive, blinded by the hope that his new environment would be different from the struggles he’d endured before.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Min, clearly irritated by Seo’s interruption, crossed her arms and scoffed. “You talk a big game for someone who’s barely a step above him,” she said, gesturing toward Kim. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have what it takes to make it here either.”
Seo’s expression darkened, but he didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he looked at Kim with quiet determination. “Don’t let people like her define your experience,” he said firmly. “Yeah, there are sharks in the water, but that doesn’t mean you have to swim with them. There are good people out there, too. You’ve just got to be careful.”
Min’s laughter cut through the tension like a blade. “Good people?” she sneered. “In this place? You’re dreaming. The only people who get anywhere here are the ones willing to do whatever it takes. If you’re not willing to play dirty, you’ll just get stepped on.”
Kim’s hands curled into fists at his sides, not out of anger but out of a deep, consuming disappointment. Min’s words confirmed what he’d already begun to suspect—that his idealistic hopes for university life didn’t match the reality of its cutthroat social hierarchy.
But Seo’s words lingered, offering a glimmer of solace. Not everyone was like Min. Not everyone would see him as a stepping stone or a source of easy gain. He just had to learn to see through the smiles, the charm, and the façades to find the rare, genuine connections worth keeping.
Kim took a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looked at Min one last time. “I feel sorry for you,” he said quietly.
Min blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“I feel sorry for you,” Kim repeated, his voice gaining strength. “You think you’re winning, but you’ve lost something more important. You’ve lost your humanity.”
Min’s face twisted in a mixture of anger and disdain, but Kim didn’t wait for her reply. He turned and walked away, Seo following close behind.
As they left the booth behind, Kim felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and a faint sense of relief. He glanced at Seo, who gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
“You’ll be fine, Kim,” Seo said with a grin. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Just don’t let people like her mess with it.”
Kim nodded, a quiet resolve settling in his chest. He might not have the wealth or status that seemed to dominate this world, but he had something just as valuable: the determination to rise above it without losing himself in the process.