The classroom was louder than usual, but not with joy. It was the kind of noise that crawled under your skin—laughter laced with poison, whispers that stung sharper than knives.
Sea stood by his desk, gripping the edge with pale fingers. His textbooks were gone. Again.
"Looking for this?" A high voice, dripping with mockery. Lila, the class queen, held up his torn notebook, the pages fluttering like feathers.
The other girls—Mimi, Bess, and Anya—burst into laughter. They were beautiful, polished, sharp-edged girls with expensive perfumes and mean intentions.
Sea blinked slowly. "Can I have it back?"
"Aww," Mimi pouted mockingly, "did you hear that? He asked. So polite." She leaned closer, voice like a whisper soaked in venom. "Why don't you beg like a proper little slut?"
Another laugh. Someone threw a water bottle at him, hitting his side. He flinched but didn't move. The girls circled him like sharks smelling blood.
"Maybe Boss likes you because you're so pathetic," Bess said. "But don't get confused, scholarship boy. This isn't your place. You're not his type."
"Unless he likes dumb, fragile toys," Anya added with a grin. "Oh wait, maybe he likes them scared."
Sea felt something burn at the back of his throat—fear, shame, maybe rage. But it was buried under layers of confusion. Why did Boss stare at him like that? Why had he threatened Minjae? Why was he suddenly being hunted?
Lila slammed his notebook onto the desk, now soaked from someone's spilled drink. "Oops."
"Clean it," she ordered. "On your knees."
The class went quiet.
Sea looked at her.
And dropped to his knees.
Gasps. Laughter. Phone cameras. Someone whispered, "God, he actually did it."
A sharp pain bloomed in his heart.
He stayed there, head bowed, fingers trembling as he picked up the dripping pages. Their voices blurred around him, but the laughter stayed clear. Loud. Endless.
He just wanted to survive this school.
But the shadows were getting thicker. Boss's stare. Minjae's disappearance. The way Nick and Van had gone silent around him lately. And now the girls—the perfect, cruel daughters of rich families—were tearing him apart without even smudging their lipstick.
Sea bit down on his lip, tasting blood.
He didn't cry.
Not yet.
But he didn't look up either.
Because maybe... he wasn't meant to look anyone in the eye anymore.
Not in this world.
---
To be continued