The world is a hunting ground.
I understood that very early. Some are born to be loved, others to be devoured. Me? I was born to watch the first ones beg and the second ones struggle.
My name is Daniel Nim. Seventeen, soon to be eighteen. Handsome enough to make ugly girls cry. Rich enough to never worry about price tags. And lucid enough to despise it all. Because beauty, wealth, popularity… those are weapons. And weapons? I collect them.
I never believed in love. Or friendship. Those words are polite lies, clothes we wear to hide the nakedness of our intentions. I prefer the raw truth. Desire. Power. Control.
When I was twelve, my father taught me one essential thing: "The world belongs to those who take it. Not to those who ask."
He said that one night while getting a client drunk in our living room, in his underwear, a cigar between his teeth, and a prostitute between his legs. A true role model, my father. Mister Nim. Insurance broker—mainly in illusions.
My mother? Dead. Antidepressant overdose when I was eight. I didn't cry. Not because I'm heartless. Because I'm honest. She'd been dead for a long time already, drowned in a life she never chose. She looked at me like a burden. So when she closed her eyes for good, I just whispered, "Finally."
Since then, I've lived by my own rules. And they're simple: never get attached. Never beg. And always win.
Sainte-Cécile High School, today
School is a sanitized jungle. Beasts in uniform. Girls made up like storefront mannequins. Boys obsessed with football, video games, and the next girl they can grope at a party. They admire me, envy me—some even fear me. I have everything they want: the face, the confidence, the mystery. I don't smile much, but when I do, panties drop. Literally.
I walk the hallways like a king in his kingdom. Everyone steps aside. I don't talk much. No need. My silence is a language. My looks, a sentence.
And then there are the girls. The ones in love, the curious ones, the masochists.
I remember Léa.
Flashback: Léa
Fragile little blonde. Pretty, but nothing special. She looked at me like I was her miracle. I took her one night, in my room, after a party. She trembled like a wounded animal. I kissed her like marking territory. She whispered she loved me after a week. I laughed.
A month later, I dumped her. By text. Three words: "It's over."
Two days later, she jumped from the roof of her building.
It made the local news. The students, the teachers—they all whispered. Some blamed me in silence. But no one dared confront me. Because they knew. It wasn't my fault. It was her. Weak. Too weak to deserve someone like me.
"When a boy that handsome dumps you, there's nothing left but to die." That's what a girl said in the bathroom. I heard her. And I smiled.
I didn't cry. I didn't love her. I never did.
Back to the schoolyard
I'm leaning against a wall, watching the courtyard. Bored. Tired. Same faces, same routines. Then I see her.
Not because she's beautiful—though she is, in a sad way. Not because she smiles—she doesn't. But because she gives off something raw. A contained rage. A filthy sort of dignity.
She walks like she hates walking. Like the ground owes her something. Her eyes are empty and full all at once.
Hena Ferza.
I know the name. Everyone does. Her mother, a drunk. Her, a problem child. Rumors swirl. That she might sell herself. That she hangs out late. That she's not like the others.
I haven't decided yet if I'll break her. But she intrigues me. She doesn't look at me. Better—she ignores me. Like I don't exist. No one does that. No one ignores me.
I feel a shiver. Not of anger. Of excitement.
She'll be my next project.
I'll watch her. Peel her apart. Slowly. Gently. I'll find out what she hides behind that dead stare. I'll offer her what no one else dares to: the truth.
The world is a hunting ground. And I've found my next prey.
Back to reality – The next morning
The car dropped me off in front of the school gates. My father didn't say a word, as always. I stepped out without looking back. Same routine. Same building. Same idiots.
They didn't take long to show up.
Chris and Adam. My little pets.
— "Yo, Daniel! Did you watch that adult film we told you about?"
— "Come on, you've gotta see it. Pure gold, bro!"
I rolled my eyes.
— "Seriously, guys… You know I don't watch that kind of crap. It's not really my thing."
In my head:
These two are so predictable. They think we're close. That I actually care. Pathetic. Chris is just a stupid mutt in heat, chasing anything with a skirt. He disgusts me. And Adam? A hopeless weeb—anime, manga, cosplay... a clown. But I keep them close. They're smart enough to be useful, popular enough to be a shield. The perfect camouflage. But having to survive another year with them? Pure boredom.
---
Inside the classroom
As I walked in, the usual stares followed. Especially from the girls. I didn't even bother looking at them. I headed straight to the back, middle row. Always the same spot.
Then came the voice I expected.
— "Daniel, how are you today?"
Sena.
I looked up, gave her the smile she wanted.
— "I'm good, Sena. And you?"
— "I'm doing great. But… why didn't you come say hi when you walked in?"
In my head:
There she is. The fake princess. She thinks she owns the school just because a few guys drool over her. She believes she can claim me, like I'm some kind of prize. But I let her play her little game. She amuses me. And when I'm done pretending, I'll tear her down like the rest. Just not yet.
— "Sorry, didn't see you."
— "Really? I don't believe you. If you want me to forgive you, you owe me a date this week."
— "Doubt I'll have time. Maybe next week."
— "You're such a bad boy…" she teased, walking away like she'd won something.
---
Then she arrived.
Hena.
Quiet. Distant. Beautiful in a broken way. She sat near me.
Same class. Same row. Fate just gave me a gift.
In my head:
There she is. My project. My prey. And we're seated together. That'll make things even easier. A slow approach. Careful. Precise.
I turned slightly.
— "Hi."
No answer. No glance. She simply turned her face the other way.
In my head:
Interesting. No reaction. Cold, even. Was it defiance? Or just habit? Doesn't matter. I won't rush. The more she resists, the sweeter it'll be in the end. Patience is everything.
---
Then the hyenas arrived.
A couple of guys, smug and loud.
— "Hey babe, wanna grab a drink with us tonight? We're short on girls."
She said nothing.
— "Hey, we're talking to you! Don't ignore us."
Still no reply.
— "Bitch. Ignoring us like you're better? When we all know what you really are. I'll teach you some respect—"
He raised his hand.
In my head:
Now's the perfect moment. If I step in now—
But someone else moved faster.
— "Touch her and I'll break your hand. Got it?"
Bérénice.
Class rep. Tall. Calm. Eyes like knives.
She'd grabbed the guy's wrist mid-air.
They backed off.
— "Let's just go, man. No need to deal with her."
Cowards.
Then Bérénice turned to Hena.
— "Why do you let them treat you like that? You should slap them next time. Hell, I'll break their hands if I have to."
Hena, quiet as always:
— "Why are you helping me? I've never even talked to you."
— "Because I'm the class rep. And honestly, I don't believe the rumors about you. I'm going to help you. Until you realize I'm on your side. Maybe even become your friend."
Silence again. But this time, it was heavy with meaning.
In my head:
Doesn't matter. I'll get my moment eventually. I always do. Like a predator stalking in silence. I'll wait. And when the time is right, she'll be mine.