Chapter -2

The streets were alive with the sound of morning bustle—bikes rushing past, students in uniforms laughing as they headed toward school, vendors shouting out deals for fresh bread and snacks.

But Jihu walked in silence.

His shoes, worn and patched, tapped against the cracked pavement.

His uniform, though neatly washed, was old and slightly faded at the edges.

He carried only a thin bag slung over his shoulder, heavy with textbooks that weighed far more than they seemed to.

His expression was calm, almost too calm, as if carved from stone.

Behind that stillness, however, churned exhaustion, hunger, and a constant ache of memories.

He blended into the crowd, invisible.

Just another scholarship student trying to make it through the day without drawing attention.

That was all Jihu ever wanted—quiet survival.

But fate rarely cared about what he wanted.

Inside the school courtyard, the golden morning light spilled across polished tiles and clean hallways.

Laughter echoed from a group of boys lounging near the entrance.

They were dressed in the same uniform as everyone else, but the way they carried themselves—the way others avoided them—spoke louder than wealth ever could.

At the center of them sat Prince, leaning casually against the railing.

Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, his presence was magnetic, dangerous, and cold.

His fake friends surrounded him like vultures circling a lion—loud, flashy, and desperate for his approval.

One of them suddenly pointed toward the gate.

“Hey, isn’t that him?”

Prince lifted his gaze lazily.

Through the bustling students, Jihu entered the courtyard.

His tall frame and strikingly handsome features were impossible to ignore, even though he carried himself quietly.

His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, and despite his cheap clothes, his natural presence drew attention like a shadow among light.

The boy who had spoken earlier grinned wickedly.

He raised his middle finger toward Jihu and laughed.

“Look, it’s that bastard! Remember? The one we beat up just for some money last time?”

The group erupted in cruel laughter.

Prince’s eyes narrowed slightly.

His friends’ laughter rang in his ears, but he didn’t laugh with them.

Instead, his gaze lingered on Jihu, analyzing.

He’d never noticed him before—at least, not like this.

Jihu’s tall height, sharp jaw, quiet eyes… there was something there. Something dignified, even in the way he walked with his worn-out bag slung over one shoulder.

“…Who is he?” Prince asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

One of his friends snickered.

“He’s just a junior. Some bastard who’ll do anything for money.”

Another one laughed louder, adding,

“Yeah! Why don’t we have some fun again? Let’s beat him up and throw him some change like the trash he is.”

The group howled with amusement, some even mimicking tossing coins.

Prince didn’t respond immediately.

His jaw tightened, and for a fleeting second, his face hardened with something unreadable.

But then, as always, the expectations of his fake circle weighed down on him.

If he refused, they’d mock him.

Question him. Maybe even turn on him.

And though Prince hated them, he hated the idea of being alone more.

So he smirked.

Cold.

Detached.

“Fine. Do what you want.”

His words sealed it.

The group straightened with excitement, their eyes gleaming cruelly as they moved to intercept Jihu.

Jihu had barely taken a step into the hallway when three boys blocked his path.

“Hey, bastard.”

He froze, his grip tightening on his bag strap.

Slowly, he looked up, his eyes meeting theirs. Cold, tired, unflinching.

The boy in front shoved him against the wall.

“You got money on you? No? Then we’ll just take it out of your hide again.”

Jihu’s jaw tightened.

His body screamed for him to fight back—but he couldn’t.

Not here.

Not now.

A single wrong move, and he could lose his scholarship. Without it, everything would collapse.

His voice was quiet, steady.

“…If you want, then just beat me up and fuck off from here.”

His words silenced them for a moment.

Even Prince, watching from a distance, felt something twist inside him.

But the silence didn’t last.

Provoked by Jihu’s defiance, one of them snarled and punched him hard in the stomach.

Jihu doubled over, choking back a groan.

Another kick landed against his ribs. His back slammed against the wall. Fists rained down—face, chest, arms.

He endured.

He didn’t beg.

He didn’t cry.

He simply clenched his teeth and took it.

The boys laughed louder with each hit.

Someone pulled a crumpled bill from their pocket and threw it at him mid-beating.

“Here! You wanted money, didn’t you? Hahaha!”

Prince stood back, arms crossed, his smirk a mask.

Inside, his chest burned with something he couldn’t explain.

Guilt?

Anger?

Or disgust at himself?

Still, he said nothing.

And so, Jihu was beaten miserably, until his tall frame slid down the wall, his breath ragged, blood smearing his lip.

A few bills fluttered to the ground beside him like cruel reminders of the humiliation.

The group finally grew bored.

One of them spat near him and sneered.

“Pathetic. Let’s go.”

They walked away laughing, slapping each other’s backs.

Prince followed, his eyes lingering one last time on Jihu before he turned away.

Time passed.

The courtyard emptied as classes began.

But Jihu didn’t move.

His vision swam, his body ached everywhere, and the crumpled money near his hand mocked him.

He wanted to throw it away. Burn it. But he needed it.

That was the cruelest part.

Elsewhere in the building, Ren frowned as he looked around the classroom.

Jihu’s seat was empty.

Again.

He clenched his jaw. Something was wrong.

Without hesitation, he left the classroom, ignoring the teacher’s call.

He searched the hallways, the courtyard, the back staircases.

Finally, near a deserted corner behind the gym, he found him.

“Jihu!”

Ren rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside him.

His eyes widened as he took in Jihu’s bruised face, the blood at the corner of his mouth, the bills scattered on the ground.

Ren’s heart sank. He didn’t need to ask what had happened. He already knew.

This wasn’t the first time.

“Damn it…” Ren whispered, his fists trembling.

He wanted to storm off, hunt down every single one of those bastards, and make them pay.

But right now, Jihu needed him more.

“Come on,” he said softly, slipping an arm around Jihu’s shoulders. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Jihu’s body was heavy, weak, but his eyes—though clouded with pain—still burned with quiet defiance.

" Hey... I am alright. It's normal for me. You don't have to worry,” he muttered in low voice.

Ren’s chest tightened. He hated this. Hated seeing his only friend broken like this, forced to swallow humiliation again and again just to survive.

...

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