Chapter 10: Do I Look Pitiful?

Classes were uneventful.

It was the first day, so they kept things light.

Mostly introductions to different abilities and explanations of why we were there.

I spent most of the time resting my chin on my hand, meeting the teacher’s occasional glares, stifling yawns.

The rest of the week was the same.

The only thing that caught my attention was the date circled on the classroom calendar: exam day.

—————

About a week later,

something different happened.

“Teacher, the new student seems to be having trouble adjusting. Can I help her?”

The teacher waved a dismissive hand and left the classroom. The boy stood up and walked towards me.

He wore the same uniform, but the material looked different, adorned with elaborate embellishments.

“You’re Ha-rin, right? Where are you from?”

“Suddenly curious? I thought you weren’t interested.”

He smirked.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just come with me.”

He gestured to a few other students, and they approached me menacingly.

“Why?”

“Are you slow? Just come with us. Do slum rats have trouble understanding basic instructions?”

I had never mentioned living in the slums. The teacher hadn’t even asked us to introduce ourselves.

Was it that obvious? Did I look like a beggar?

Or was it because I had overslept, still high from the night before, and showed up to class with messy hair?

I stood up.

He smirked, leading me and his followers to a secluded area on school grounds.

“Late on your first day, sleeping in class… are you some big shot’s daughter? Or a bastard child, maybe? White hair, red eyes… lots of prostitutes came over after the war.”

I didn’t answer. I just observed them.

Two boys snickering and sharing dirty jokes.

The leader, standing before me. Two girls looking at their phones.

“My father pulled some strings, so I know all about the new students.”

He poked my cheek.

“You’re from the slums. The same neighborhood as that Lee Seo-jun. Good thing you’re the same rank as me. Means you’re probably worthless…”

He put on a pair of brass knuckles, the ends tipped with dull spikes. They were well-worn, scratched and dented.

“So, are you two close? You must know each other, growing up in the same neighborhood. Though, I doubt they have schools there.”

I stared at him, silent. I didn’t know how to answer his question.

Or perhaps I simply didn’t want to.

He frowned, sighed, and punched me in the side.

“ Answer me when I talk to you!”

I felt a crack in my ribs, but I held my breath. They healed quickly.

“I waited a week. You haven’t met with Lee Seo-jun, so I guess you’re not close. Good.”

Killing him would cause problems. This was a school for ability users, located in the heart of the city.

Escape wouldn’t be easy.

I could explode him, leaving no trace. Just a puddle of blood to clean up.

But my sudden disappearance would also be problematic.

“Ugh…”

He punched me again, harder. I did nothing.

“Next time, just follow me. You’re a pretty girl. You don’t have to get beaten up like this.”

He slapped me across the face, leaving a red mark. I didn’t mind. I felt like I deserved to be hurt.

My mission was to gather information for the organization. And a weak, bullied girl attracted less attention.

No one cared what happened to me.

I decided to endure it. He was just a bully.

I was used to being hurt. This wasn’t as bad as the hammer, or the electric shocks.

He punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air, but I didn’t cry.

My face didn’t even crumple.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

He lit a cigarette, then started scratching his ear frantically, as if something was inside.

I didn’t know what it was. Perhaps blood. Or a fly.

He flicked the cigarette butt at me, spat on the ground, and nudged me with his foot.

Did I look pitiful? I hoped so.

I wanted to look pitiful when someone found me, especially Seo-jun.

I didn’t know if she considered me a friend, but I wanted her to pity me.

A pitiful girl wouldn’t burn down a lab or kill innocent people.

——————

“H-hey! What are you doing?!”

I looked up. A girl with a sword at her hip stood before us.

Her uniform was a different color.

Slightly blue hair, a sword, unusually beautiful… she must be one of Seo-jun’s friends.

Seo-jun had been wearing a similar uniform when I last saw her.

The uniform colors must denote rank. That’s why everyone from the auditorium was in the same class, or nearby.

This wasn’t the kind of attention I wanted.

The boy and his followers scrambled away, their faces pale with fear.

I started to follow them, but the girl stopped me, seeing my injuries.

“A-are you okay? You should tell a teacher! Or someone!”

A different teacher? Or different people altogether?

This didn’t apply to me, but her genuine concern touched me.

I stared at her pretty face for a moment, then spoke softly.

“I look pitiful, don’t I? Beaten up and lying on the ground on my first day of school.”

“N-no! You should go to the infirmary…”

I couldn’t remember her name. She must have been an important character in the novel.

More important than me, at least. To everyone.

I was forgetting even the person who had been my greatest source of comfort.

A sharp pain shot through my head.

Did it even matter? They were just words on a page.

Was I, was Yoo Ha-rin, so worthless that a tragic backstory was all it took to make someone worthy of love and attention?

I was just words on a page too.

“What’s the polite way to say… off’? I can’t remember. Just… go away. You’re annoying.”

I hated headaches. More than physical pain.

Physical pain could be numbed with drugs. Headaches couldn’t.

She stood there, flustered. I would be too, if someone I tried to help cursed at me.

“I’m fine. Just go. You’re not going to sit next to me in class, are you?”

She didn’t move. I smiled faintly and walked away.

I wiped the spit from my clothes with a bloody hand and flicked it away.

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, coughing as I inhaled.

Everyone stared as I walked away, smoking. Perhaps because I was smoking in the hallway, or because I was a girl.

I extinguished the cigarette on my hand before entering my dorm room and ground the butt to dust, scattering it in the wind.

I had to find Seo-jun. I should have asked the girl. How well did she know Lee Seo-jun? What class was she in? Where did she live?

Back in my room, I poured more white powder onto the table and inhaled deeply. I couldn’t face her sober.

How should I approach her? Should I just go to her? Now?

The drugs made me feel optimistic. I imagined Seo-jun welcoming me with open arms, like a long-lost friend.

 A cherished childhood companion.