The hallway was loud—too loud for Joon-Seok's liking. Students buzzing around, laughing, shouting, rushing to their classes. He hugged his books close to his chest and kept his eyes fixed on lockers, doing his best to blend in.He has learned early on that making eye contact was a mistake. It meant trouble.
"Hey,look who it is", a cold voice sneered.
Joon-seok's heart jumped, and before he could brace himself, there it was again—Seok-Jim's face, smirking like he owned the whole school. Around him were his usual gang of bullies, watching eagerly for the next chance to make someone's day miserable.
"Still tripping over your own feet?, loser" Seok-Jin laughed out loud for anyone nearby to hear.
Joon-seok's fist curled tightly by his sides. He wanted to shout back, to fight, maybe even just run. But years of this kind of harassment had only taught him one thing—resistance only made it worse. So he swallowed his pride, looked down, and quietly walked past them, feeling their judging eyes burn into his back.
"This is your place.Dont forget it", Seok-jin said, his voice dripping with mock kindness.
The humiliation cut deep, but Joon-seok held his head just a little higher as he walked away. The school was like a wild jungle, and he was the smallest, weakest student struggling to survive.
The social hierarchy was clear. Seok-jin and his clique were at the top—popular, powerful, and feared. Then came the athletes, the "normal" students, and finally, kids like Joon-seok— the quiet, easy and weak ones. Everyday was an invisible line he had to walk carefully, lest he fall Andre endless teasing, shoving, or worse.
In class, the teacher's voice turned into background noise. Joon-Seok's mind replayed the hallway scene over and over, the sting of those cruel words never quite fading. Seok-Jin's gang laughed in the corner, completely untouchable. And the rest? They looked away pretending not to see.
His textbooks lay open in front of him, but the words didn't stick. His thought were fixed on Seok-jin's smirk, the way his gangs had flanked him like sharks circling prey. The feeling of being trapped in this cycle of fear and helplessness was suffocating— how much longer could he survive like this?
Lunch was no better. The cafeteria felt like a battlefield, with groups clustered tightly like rival gang, Joon-seok always found a quiet corner eating alone . Someone's tray slammed to the floor nearby, making him jump. The laughter that followed felt like a personal attack.
He picked at his food, wishing for the noise to stop, for just one person to say something kind, or for a the moment when he could disappear completely. But the isolation was crushing, the silent loneliness worse than any words or blows.
Still,beneath the pain, a small fire flickers inside him. He was tired of feeling powerless. Tired of being invisible and crushed beneath everyone's feet.
That night, in his tiny room, Joon-seok stared at his reflection in the mirror. The boy looking back was worn down, bruised— not just on the outside, but inside too. But somewhere deep in his eyes, a spark glowed. A quiet promise.
"This isn't the end", he whispered to himself. "I'm going to fight back starting tomorrow"
He thought about the martial art classes his dad once wanted him to take— the classes he quit after the bullying got worse. Maybe it was time to go back. Strength wasn't just about throwing punches; it was about having the courage to stand tall, even when everything is pushed down.
He remembered how alive he'd felt on the mat, how precise every movement had to be, how respect was earned with discipline, not fear. Back then he'd quit because he didn't believe he could ever be strong. Now, he wanted to believe again.
The room was small, cluttered with hooks and posters of heroes from his favorite manga and anime that showed characters fighting against impossible odds. Those stories somehow gave him hope— the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could change his own story.
He looked up at one particular poster— his favorite character, fists clenched, eyes blazing quiet fury. That chatacter had once been bullied too, now he protected others. Joon-seok's hand reached out and touched the corner of the poster.
Outside his window, the city lights flickered, a constant reminder of the world moving on, indifferent to his struggles. But Joon-seok wasn't ready to stay a victim anymore. Something deep inside him had shifted—a quiet determination that whispered he could rise above it all.
For the first time in a long while, he opened the drawer by his desk and pulled out his old martial art textbook— creases folded deep in the pages, ink faded from years of dust. He flipped through the worn sheets filled with stances, notes and techniques. His own handwriting greeted him like an old friend. The boy who wrote those still existed. He just needed to be found again.
He imagined himself on the mat again, bowing with respect, body moving with purpose, sweat dripping from his brow not from fear, but from effort. That image grounded him. He wasn't ready to challenge anyone yet, but he could start preparing. In silence, in secret. Like a seed breaking through soil long after winter's end.
He picked up a pen and scribbled something new on the back of the notebook:
"I won't be afraid forever".
It wasn't a promise to anyone but himself, but somehow that made him feel more powerful.
Then he put his notebook down and got under the covers, the weight of the day finally settling into his bones. His eyes stayed open for a few minutes longer, watching the play of his headlights on his ceiling, until finally, his breathing slowed, and the tension drained from his shoulders.
He pictured the next day, walking through those same hallways— but different. Confident,ready, not running, not hiding, but standing his ground. Even if no one else noticed, he would notice. That was enough for now.
Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it carried it with hope. Tomorrow wasn't Just another day. It was the start of something new.