"Hey, skinny freak! Take this!"
A sharp, disgusting voice cut through the noise of the classroom. The other students laughed, chatted, played on their phones, or slept. But in the corner of the room, behind a pile of unused desks stacked like debris, the sound of blows echoed—repetitive, rhythmic, like a broken record that refused to stop.
"Ugh!"
A fist landed in Kang Taeyang's stomach.
His body automatically curled forward, nearly collapsing to the floor, but Do Jinhwan's hand gripped his collar and yanked him back up like a ragged doll. Taeyang said nothing. He couldn't. His breath caught in his throat like shards of glass.
"Kang Taeyang," Do Jinhwan muttered, tasting the name like something rotten, "why didn't you do our homework?!"
Sangwoo, the short, stocky one, laughed. "He did, but he got one problem wrong on mine. This idiot almost made me get a D!"
"How could his tiny brain handle three assignments at once?" added the third bully, Jongpil, who was quieter but liked to kick from behind.
And then he kicked.
"UGH!
A hard shoe slammed into Taeyang's ribs. It felt like his bones split in two, the fractured edges stabbing into his lungs. But Taeyang's face only twitched. No sound escaped.
Just short, ragged breaths.
His trembling hands tried to steady himself against the desk, but Do Jinhwan yanked him backward, sending him crashing to the floor—no carpet, no padding. His head bounced once before going still.
The other students?
They looked.
And then… they stopped looking.
Some pretended to write, others chuckled softly. One girl even took a cute selfie. No one spoke up. No one intervened.
The teacher? There was no teacher.
Class hadn't started yet.
This was the dead zone—fifteen golden minutes to destroy someone like Taeyang.
Jinhwan crouched in front of Taeyang, leaning in so close his breath hit Taeyang's face.
"You know what? Sometimes I feel like we're gods, Taeyang. We can hit you, stomp on you, and you just take it. The world gave us power. But you… you can't even ask for help.
Taeyang didn't look up. He just stared at the floor. Dust. Dirty shoes. His own nails, cracked and bleeding. All of it was normal. Too normal.
Sangwoo kicked again. Not hard—just a reminder.
"Chemistry homework tomorrow. Don't screw it up."
"Yeah. One mistake, I punch you. Two mistakes, I kick you. Three mistakes…"
Jinhwan stood, slowly pressing his shoe down on Taeyang's hand. "I break your fingers one by one."
"Got it?"
Taeyang stared at the floor. Then closed his eyes. One slow breath.
Finally, he nodded.
Jinhwan smirked, patting his bruised cheek.
"Good boy."
The bell rang. The teacher entered. Footsteps shuffled. Everyone returned to their seats like reset robots. Taeyang crawled slowly back to his chair. No one turned to look. No one cared.
And when he sat down, when he gripped his pen for the first lesson, he realized—his hands were shaking too hard to write.
---
Some time later.
The school bell had long since stopped ringing. The laughter of other students echoed as they left through the gates in groups—chatting about homework, idol dramas, and the latest viral videos. Kang Taeyang wasn't part of any of those groups.
He waited until everyone was gone. He always did. It was safer that way.
When the schoolyard was finally empty, he walked out slowly. One hand clutched his bag strap tightly, as if it could steady him from collapsing. His shoulders were slightly hunched—not from posture, but from the pain lingering in his bones.
The sun burned as if trying to scorch the world. The asphalt in his imagination melted slowly, dissolving his already worn-out shoes. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, but he didn't wipe it away. Let it sting. Maybe the pain would distract him from thinking.
His steps were short and slow. Every few meters, he glanced back. Not out of paranoia. Out of habit. Sometimes, Jinhwan sent others to follow him and beat him on the way home.
No one was there today. Just the sound of passing motorcycles and a weak breeze that wasn't enough to cool anything.
In the narrow alley cutting through the old neighborhood, he passed fluttering laundry, a dog barking behind a tin fence, and the loud blare of TVs from small houses.
Then he reached his home.
A weathered wooden house, its paint peeling like dead skin, its windows sealed with plastic because the glass had broken last year. The door hung slightly open, its hinges crooked. He stepped inside.
Click.
He tried the light switch. Nothing.
Knock knock knock.
He turned the faucet. No water.
The air inside smelled like a mix of dust, old oil, and something almost rotten—but not dead enough to fully decay.
Taeyang dropped his bag on the floor. The cracked wooden boards creaked softly. He didn't change clothes. Didn't shower. Didn't lie down.
He just stood in the middle of the room, breathing shallowly. His heart pounded too fast.
His back hurt. His stomach hurt. But worse than that—nothing would ever change.
He glanced at the corner of the room. A small, cracked mirror. That was where he saw himself every day.
Today… he couldn't bear to look.
He took a slow breath. No water to drink. No food on the table.
Only one sentence settled in his mind like cold fog:
"Enough. Just end it here."
His feet moved toward the door again. But this time, not to escape.
There was a place he'd thought about for a long time.
---
The road to the bridge was long, but he didn't remember taking a single step.
His legs moved automatically, as if his body had already made the decision while his mind lagged behind, powerless to resist. He passed empty bus stops, shops that had closed early, and an overpass connecting two sides of the city that never truly met.
Dusk began to fall, but it wasn't beautiful. The sky was a dirty orange-gray, like half-burnt paper. The wind came and went, bringing no relief—just noise.
Then he reached the bridge.
Red iron stretched over the filthy river below—wide, stinking of rust and factory waste. The water didn't flow fast, just sat there, dark and stagnant. In the distance, city lights flickered on, but from where Taeyang stood, everything felt distant. Unreal.
He didn't cry. He didn't hesitate.
He climbed the bridge's iron support slowly, gripping the sun-heated metal. His shoes slipped. His knees shook. But he kept climbing. Until finally, he stood on a narrow horizontal beam, three stories above the water.
The wind was stronger up here. His school uniform fluttered slightly.
He looked down. The wide canal. The river, still as black glass.
Then he spoke, his voice barely audible but still escaping:
"Trash world. Just break already."
He closed his eyes.
His hands released the railing. His body leaned forward. No scream. No dramatic moment. Just a decision finally acted upon.
Yet—
His body fell forward.
Air rushed past his face. His feet left the beam. The world turned upside down, slowly.
But before gravity could fully claim him—
FLASH!
Something appeared before his eyes. A bright blue light exploded from thin air like a hologram from the future.
[ Exclusive Mission Started: Jump from the Bridge.
Reward: Fighting System Activated. ]
Taeyang froze mid-air. Not that time stopped—but something locked his mind in place. The screen didn't just appear—he felt the message. As if the words spoke directly into his skull.
His eyes widened. His muscles twitched reflexively. But his body kept falling.
He rubbed his eyes quickly.
"A… a dying hallucination…? Is this oxygen deprivation?"
His voice trembled, though no one could hear him.
The blue screen didn't move. It stayed fixed in his vision, unaffected by his fall. Like it was embedded in his subconscious.
"Funny… Well, I was going to jump."
He let out a small laugh—bitter, desperate, and… slightly amused?
His arms spread wide.
WHOOSH.
The wind rushed harder. But the next second—cold.
Not wind-cold. More like… a mattress.
THUMP.
His body landed.
But not in water.
On something… soft, hard, and cold like an old bed. His breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut, then slowly opened them.
No sky. No water. No sound of the river.
He was staring at the cracked ceiling of his own shabby house.
He was back. At home.
No injuries. No water. No drowning sensation.
He sat up, his breathing erratic. His body wasn't shaking from the fall—but from something far worse: the reality that he was still alive.
And then… the blue screen reappeared.
[ Exclusive Mission Completed!
Fighting System Activated. ]
[ Beginner Reward: 1 Random Skill ]
[ Would You Like to Open 1 Random Skill Now? ]
Taeyang didn't answer. He just stared at the screen like it was an alien.
But finally, in a quiet voice, he replied:
"…Y-Yes?"
[ You Have Obtained Skill: Jab (Uncommon) ]
The blue text hovered in the air like a hologram. It didn't touch anything, yet couldn't be ignored. Its glow faintly illuminated the dark, electricity-less room.
Taeyang rubbed his eyes a third time. It didn't disappear.
"Jab…?" he murmured, leaning closer as if that would explain something. "Like… a boxing punch?"
Another screen appeared, answering his thoughts.
[ To activate a skill, simply think its name in your mind.
Your body will automatically execute the movement. ]
"…Think it?"
Taeyang stood slowly, his body still feeling weightless, like he'd just woken from a nightmare.
His hands trembled. He stared at his fingers—covered in scars and dirt. A punch? Him? With hands like these?
But…
'Jab.'
He said it… in his mind.
And suddenly—
"WHOOSH!"
His right hand shot forward. Fast as a reflex. Straight. Precise.
A thin gust of wind followed the motion. It didn't hurt. It wasn't powerful. But… it was clean. Accurate. Not the wild flailing of a panicked person. This was like… something trained over years, forcibly implanted into his nerves.
Taeyang stared at his own hand, breathless.
"That… was me? But…"
He took half a step back. Then another.
'Jab.'
"WHAP!"
His right hand shot out again. Just as clean. Just as fast.
For a body that couldn't even withstand a normal high schooler's punch—this was… a miracle.
He laughed.
Softly. Then louder.
A laugh mixed with shock, despair, and… awe.
[ Main Quest 01: Revenge #1
Use the Jab skill to hit one of your bullies at school.
Reward: 1 Random Skill. ]
Taeyang stopped laughing.
He read the words slowly.
"Hit… one of the bullies?"
His mind immediately conjured Sangwoo's face—those chubby cheeks that always laughed when he got kicked. Then Jongpil's. And… Do Jinhwan's.
"HAAA?!" His voice cracked, panicked, hysterical, unsure whether to be angry or laugh again.
He stood frozen in the middle of his dark house.
And for the first time in his life… there was something inside him that wanted to go to school tomorrow.