I wake up to the faint light streaming through the window of my room, the same one-room box that feels smaller with every passing day. The walls are stained with damp patches, the ceiling fan wobbles precariously, and the sound of traffic outside never stops.
I stare at the mirror, adjusting my glasses. There’s a bruise on my neck—a parting gift from yesterday. I don’t bother trying to hide it. Everyone at school knows anyway. It’s not like anyone would care.
The walk to school feels heavier than usual. Students pass by in groups, their laughter ringing in my ears. I wonder what it feels like to laugh like that, carefree and alive.
When I reach the gates, I see them—Minjae and his gang. My chest tightens. I lower my head and keep walking. Maybe today they’ll leave me alone. Maybe today I’ll just be invisible.
“Hey, Park Soojin.”
The words stop me in my tracks. My shoulders tense, but I don’t turn around. A hand grabs my shoulder, spins me around, and suddenly I’m face-to-face with Minjae. His grin makes my stomach churn.
“Did you forget to bow to your betters this morning?” he sneers.
I don’t answer. My silence only makes him angrier. His hand comes down hard on my shoulder, shoving me backward. My books slip from my hands, scattering across the ground.
Laughter erupts around us. I don’t look up. I just stand there, staring at the pavement, wishing it would swallow me whole.
“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” one of the others says.
I brace myself, and the slap comes. My head snaps to the side, my cheek stinging. The crowd laughs louder. They always do.
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The day goes on, and so does the torment. I eat alone in the cafeteria, trying to keep my head down, but they find me anyway.
“Hungry, loser?” Minjae’s voice cuts through the dull chatter. I don’t respond. He walks over and, with a single swipe, knocks my tray to the floor.
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The room goes quiet for a moment, and then the laughter starts.
“Oops,” he says, smirking. “Looks like you dropped your lunch.”
I crouch down to pick it up, my hands trembling. Before I can reach for the food, a piece of bread hits me in the face. More laughter.
“Eat up,” someone says.
I force myself to breathe, to stay calm. I tell myself it will be over soon. It always is.
But it doesn’t end. In the hallways, they shove me into lockers, tearing at my shirt until it hangs in tatters. The cold air bites at my skin as their laughter echoes around me.
“Is this what a body’s supposed to look like?” one of them jeers, poking at my ribs.
I catch a glimpse of Ara, standing in the crowd. For a moment, I think she might step in. Her eyes meet mine, but she looks away. My stomach sinks.
No one’s going to save me.
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By the time gym class starts, I’m barely holding myself together. My whole body aches, and all I want is to disappear.
But they’re not done yet. In the locker room, they corner me again. Minjae stands in front of me, his arms crossed, his grin wide.
“You really should fight back, Soojin,” he says. “It’s no fun when you just stand there.”
I say nothing. What’s the point?
His fist comes down hard, slamming into my stomach. The pain is sharp, and I double over, gasping for air.
“See? Much better.”
Another punch lands, then another. I can’t even tell who’s hitting me anymore. All I feel is pain—sharp and unrelenting.
I collapse to the floor, my arms wrapped around my torso, trying to shield myself. But they don’t stop. The kicks come, one after another, until I can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe.
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The laughter rings in my ears, louder than the pain. It’s everywhere, drowning me, suffocating me.
I close my eyes, and for a moment, I’m somewhere else. I’m at home, sitting with Jihoon, eating the ramen he bought me. I can hear his voice, telling me to keep going, to stay strong.
But his voice fades, and all I can hear is them.
Why?
The thought burns in my mind. Why do they get to do this? Why does no one care? Why does it always have to be me?
The kicks stop, but I don’t move. I can’t. My body is too broken, too weak. My vision blurs, but I can still see their faces—twisted with malice, their laughter filling the room.
I hate them.
The thought is sharp and clear, cutting through the haze.
I hate them all. I want to kill them. Every single one of them.
My vision darkens, and the world starts to fade. The last thing I feel is the cold floor beneath me, the taste of blood in my mouth, and the burning rage in my chest.
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And as Park Soojin lay there, broken and beaten, something deep within him began to stir. A spark ignited, faint but undeniable—a fire that would not be extinguished.
“This fire was not born of rage alone, but of something far more dangerous. Something primal, something ancient, something that had been waiting for this moment.”
“Park Soojin was not like the others. He never had been. And now... he never would be again.”
“A fire had been lit, and the world would never be the same.”
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