"Watch out." The voice wasn't one of concern but a mocking tone.
"Oh right, you can't." Then the voice burst into laughter, followed by the others.
So childish, I thought.
I raised my hand to wipe off the smudge on my glasses.
It was soft and runny.
Eggs then.
Meaning that it would be harder to remove.
I had no expression on my face and walked to the male bathroom to clean my glasses.
I bumped into people randomly, and it felt like there were more people than usual in the hallway.
Normally they would be cursing me out for bumping into them,
even though they clearly made sure I hit them on purpose.
Then they would say in anger,
"Can't you see?" as if looking at a joke.
"Oh right, you're the blind kid, it shows," the person beside them would say.
Then everyone in the corridor would start snickering.
I would just stand silent, waiting for them to get over it.
Then I would roll my eyes as they walked away still laughing.
Tsk.
For heirs to large families, they are so childish.
At present, no one stopped to mock me or make a lame blind joke.
They hurried past me.
Through the blurry shapes that the world appears to me in,
I could guess that they were carrying people who were limp.
After looking some more, I left to go to the male bathroom.
It was empty and clean.
I took off my glasses, and the world went dark.
I rubbed them, but it was still only darkness that I could see.
Or more accurately, I couldn't see.
Even with the glasses, I could only recognize shapes and colors.
Basically, the world that I can see is only in two types:
Blurry or dark.
There's no in between.
I wonder if this is the only thing that I'll ever be able to see.
Instead of rinsing my glasses, I stumbled my way to the wall and sat down.
My hands went to place the headphones that were always on me, on my ear.
The melody began, and the sound of instruments harmonizing with a person singing felt soothing.
I increased the volume to full blast and smiled.
This should be enough, I thought.
Then I placed my hand into my pocket and brought out the blade.
It was a cutlery knife that I stole during lunch in the cafeteria.
It was dull, of course, because the only thing it was meant to cut was soft meat.
But I have been sharpening it for a long time using anything I could find.
I couldn't see it, so my thumb brushed around the edge until I felt it sting.
I smiled.
It seems it should be sharp enough to make the cut.
All I need is to press that sharp edge on the skin of my wrist, accurately cutting the major artery.
Then close my eyes and listen to the music as I slowly lose consciousness.
But it's not time yet.
If I die here without any preparation, then the Noi family will just push the blame to the school.
I can see it now: blind boy sponsored by the Noi family killed from school bullying.
Then they would place the blame on a minor family that was getting on their nerves,
and would promise the public to seek justice.
Hypocrites.
I hate those kind of people the most.
No, I have to prepare adequately.
Just like the way the tones in music can be erratic in terms of arrangement but result in a beautiful melody,
my death has to be the most beautiful melody created.
That's why I was happy to realize that there was something off about school today.
There were a lot of people getting sick spontaneously and collapsing.
Though no one else seems to be concerned, and I don't blame them.
It would be a miracle for young masters to care about anyone but themselves.
Especially 15-year-old young masters.
The only thing that doesn't change with a young age is petty pranks and insults.
Though maybe I should be thankful to the orphanage that they don't beat me.
But sadly, I wish they would.
I wish they would beat me to death so that I would become a stain to the precious Noi family's honor.
But the Noi family was very strict with their instructions.
I was their puppy.
A toy whose purpose was to look good in front of the public.
I was just a means of controlling the public, and it disgusted me.
I hate the Noi family.
They go around pretending to be saints while destroying lives.
They say that they are adopting the children in the slums to save them.
But they push them deeper into despair.
On the guise of "adopting."
They cripple them and parade them around,
dressed neatly, well fed, and happy smiles on their faces.
Even though life dealt them a hard hand,
look, they are smiling.
So why don't you smile too by believing in us, the Noi family.
Disgusting hypocrites.
Actually, I'm more disgusted in myself for ever thinking that I was going to be saved.
I am disgusted that I was happy for being chosen at the time,
just for me to face an even greater despair.
I thought that I was dirty, so it made sense for the people that brought me to the orphanage to smuggle me in.
They hid us like they were kidnapping us and took us to this nice building.
They said it was an orphanage—
a place where kids with no parents like us could find hope.
It was named Hope.
Truly ironic.
It was the place that made me lose all hope.
They took us in and treated us well for a year.
Then the despair began.
They would pick ten kids, five boys and five girls.
The criteria was we had to be moderately good looking, or at least cute enough.
Then they took us to the basement.
The director of the orphanage that was always smiling at us would appear.
He was smiling as always, but the words that came out of his mouth sent shivers down our minds.
We were 10 years old, not that aware of things in life.
But we still knew what would be bad for us, especially after coming out of the slums.
"These are good kids."
"Break his left leg until he has a limp."
"Break her right hand until it's useless."
"Break his right leg."
"Break her left hand."
"Cut off his right leg."
"Cut off her right hand."
"Hit his head until she's a fool."
"Cut off her fingers."
"Blind his eyes."
"Pluck out her eyes."
"Make sure it's very neat and they don't die."
The director said these words to each kid, still with that smile.
We, the kids, weren't fools, and we did try to escape.
But there were a lot of big and strong men.
We were caught, and the operation was carried out by doctors.
So in that dark, bloody basement,
they poured a liquid into my eyes that felt like acid.
I shed tears, struggling, but my world slowly turned dark.
And then I couldn't see.
I passed out and woke up in the basement alone.
I couldn't hear any voices or movements.
So I felt around, calling out to the other kids.
I eventually felt a sticky liquid and soft bodies.
Then I knew.
They were dead.
The other kids were dead, and I was the only survivor left.
I shed bloody tears until the director came to pick me up.
After that, I was forced to eat, sleep, and dress nicely.
I was taken care of by a nanny and displayed to the public.
The orphanage took care of my schooling, food, and rent.
They even developed special glasses that made me moderately able to see,
though the purpose was to show off their efforts in taking care of us.
Over the years, they sent a lot of kids to the basement, and every time, I would hear them scream.
The director placed all of us in a room above the basement so that we would hear them torturing the newcomers,
with the purpose of ensuring we never had the idea of rebellion.
Eventually, it was time for me to enter high school.
They gave me a series of instructions and threatened to kill the kids left behind in the orphanage.
I admit that I do have some acquaintances there, but so what?
They don't actually like me.
They are just glad that they weren't chosen to become like me.
After all, the orphanage still needed normal orphans.
Even though they didn't tell the kids what they did and claimed I had an accident while going out,
living in the slums made us smarter for our age.
So they knew that it was on purpose.
But they didn't care what they did as long as they weren't the victims.
And I don't care about the hypocritical care they showed me over the years.
They wanted to take advantage of the fact that the director took care of me,
no matter if the reason was because he crippled me himself.
Anyway, I agreed to go to the high school for the elite obediently.
I promised to be on my best behavior, but they didn't trust my words.
So they placed a chip in my glasses to monitor my movement.
I was their best display doll and had to remain that way.
Then when I got old, I would be thrown away—
probably in a body bag buried underground.
I knew that clearly.
I didn't want to escape, but to destroy them.
Utterly tear apart all that they have built until there was nothing left.
But not yet.
If I do it in such a hidden place without any witnesses, then it would all be for nothing.
But this is the best time to slip away.
There was something going on, and I could feel it.
I planned to cut one of the collapsed kids, making them bleed, and force the school to call an ambulance.
Then I would sneak into it as they drove the student away.
Anyway, it's easy to deceive people when you're blind.
I placed the knife back in my pocket and hummed along to the music in my ears.
The headphones were a sort of compensation from the director of the orphanage.
He said I could ask for anything I wanted as a reward for my service.
And I asked for blue headphones.
Blue was the color of my iris before I became blind.
Now it's silver white.
They went beyond what I requested and made me a special set of headphones.
It was blue, sleek, and high-tech, specially from the Ming Tech Corporation.
It was connected to my brain signals and had infinite battery life from that special ore.
It could respond to my commands I said in my head and doubled as a phone by adding holographic image.
Honestly, they would have bugged the headphones too if they knew that I came here and was out of their sight.
Unfortunately, I was their first experiment, and they assumed that I would either live in the orphanage under supervision,
or be killed by them.
They did try to bug the headphones when I was preparing to come here,
but I had it on me at all times.
It was waterproof, so there was no need to take it off while bathing.
At least they could get to my glasses.
And they made sure I didn't have any contacts except the director,
and of course the kids in the orphanage who were the supposed hostages.
But unfortunately, I don't care about their life or death.
All I want is to destroy the Noi family in my own way.
I smiled at that thought and went back to the sink where I left my glasses.
I was rinsing it under the water when the door opened.
I couldn't see who it was, but I did hear them slam the door.
I heard a thud, which I guessed was the sound of someone falling.
I felt that something was wrong and tried to move away.
Unfortunately, I was too late as I felt someone slam into me.
I tried to push the person off, but I couldn't see anything.
So I moved my hands to where it felt like the person was.
Then I felt a pain in my neck, and I realized that something bit me.
I struggled some more, but it was useless.
What can a blind man do?
I slowly drifted off, and my eyes rolled back amidst the chewing sounds and the song from my headphones.