The school gates felt heavier than usual that morning, like each step I took was sinking me further into quicksand. The crisp autumn air did nothing to lift the weight in my chest. Every whisper of wind reminded me of the voices waiting for me—not the gentle ones, but the cruel, biting words that always seemed to follow me wherever I went.
By the time I stepped into the courtyard, I could already hear the familiar murmurs.
"Look who it is."
"They say he cries over spilled milk… or just life in general."
"He's such a spoiled brat. Bet his parents just roll their eyes and pay someone to fix his mistakes."
I kept my head down, fingers gripping the straps of my bag so tightly that I could feel my nails digging into my palms. Each laugh, each pointed glance, was a blow I couldn't dodge.
I tried to move past them, silent, invisible. But the words chased me relentlessly, gnawing at my chest.
"Hey, worthless Omega!" someone laughed. "How's it feeling being useless? You're lucky your parents give you money, otherwise, you'd starve with your pathetic skills!"
I froze. My lips parted, wanting to protest, to scream that I wasn't worthless, that I wasn't a spoiled brat—but the words caught in my throat.
"Aw, look at him stammering," another voice added, smirking. "Pathetic. I'd almost feel bad… almost."
I felt my stomach twist violently, bile rising. My hands shook. My chest ached. And then the words from home—the ones I couldn't escape—came flooding back: Worthless. Better off dead. Our reputation is ruined because of you.
I swallowed hard, biting my lip until it bled slightly. My classmates didn't notice, or if they did, they only laughed harder.
By the time I reached the classroom, my vision was blurry. I tried to focus on the lessons, on the teacher's words, but every sentence sounded like a whisper through cotton. My mind wasn't on math, or history, or literature—it was on the cruel laughter, the whispers, the pointed looks.
At lunch, I sat alone at the far end of the hall. I tried to eat quietly, to let my food sustain me, to let the act of chewing keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.
"Hey, spoiled Omega," someone sneered, leaning over from the next table. "Did your parents buy you a place here too? Or are you just naturally pathetic?"
I didn't answer. I kept my eyes on the tray, forcing my fork to move, forcing my body to obey.
"Don't act like you didn't hear me," another chimed in. "Everyone knows you're useless. You're nothing but a disgrace. You should just—"
I flinched. Every word was a whip, slashing across my chest. My breath hitched. My hands shook, spilling a few grains of rice onto the tray. I wanted to vanish. I wanted the floor to open beneath me.
Why can't they just leave me alone? I thought bitterly, the edges of tears threatening to spill. Why does everyone hate me? Why do I deserve this?
And then a small, fleeting thought cut through the despair, fragile as glass: Dae-hyun.
He… he said I was stronger than I believed. That someone saw me… saw me as more than worthless…
I pressed my face against my arm, letting my stomach tighten with a mixture of shame and longing. The teasing continued, relentlessly, but I stayed silent. I couldn't speak. I didn't have the energy to defend myself.
"Why is he always so quiet?" someone muttered behind me, clearly annoyed.
Another voice snorted. "Because he knows it's useless. Nobody cares about pathetic little Omegas like him."
I bit my lip until the taste of blood filled my mouth, swallowing the sobs that threatened to escape.
By the end of lunch, I barely touched my food. I moved mechanically, returning to my seat in class, wishing, praying, for the day to end—wishing that somehow, the world would let me disappear just for a moment.
Just for a moment… I repeated silently. If only they'd leave me alone…
The whispers, the laughter, the weight of their judgment—it all followed me, relentless, echoing through my mind.
And I knew the worst wasn't over. I knew that after school, home would wait, cold and cruel, ready to remind me exactly who I was… or who they wanted me to be: worthless, insignificant, broken.
The front door clicked behind me, but stepping inside didn't bring relief. The house smelled of cold polish and stale authority. Every corner seemed sharper, every shadow heavier. I had no time to breathe before the familiar weight descended—my father's gaze.
"Back so soon," he said, voice low, dangerous, almost humming with malice. "Did the little spoiled brat get laughed at today too?"
I swallowed hard. "Y-Yes… Father."
He slammed his hand onto the table, rattling the dishes. "Do you know what you are?" he hissed, stepping closer. "You are a disgrace. A pathetic, weak Omega who can't even survive a day in the real world!"
I flinched. My knees threatened to buckle. My stomach twisted.
"My… best…" I whispered, barely audible.
"Your best?" he barked, whip glinting in his hand. "Your best is worthless! You bring shame to this family every day! Every tear, every flinch, every pathetic attempt at life—disgusting!"
I pressed my palms to my face, shaking, trying to block the words, the whip, the judgment.
"Do you hear me, boy?" he snapped, stepping forward. "If I could erase your existence without a second thought, I would. You're… better off dead!"
I couldn't breathe. The words carved deep into me. Better off dead… The echo of it reverberated in my chest.
My mother's voice sliced through, calm and cold. "Don't act like you're suffering. You've had everything handed to you, yet you still fail. Our reputation, our family name… all of it, tarnished by your weakness."
I lowered my gaze. My hands trembled on my lap. "I… I just want to… survive," I whispered.
"Survive?" he spat, his whip raised. "Pathetic. Do you even deserve to live? You've done nothing but ruin everything for us. Stop embarrassing us with your existence."
"I JUST TRIED TO KILLMYSELF TODAY AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE!"
I started crying.
"If you are gonna do it, do it where no one can see you or not, so that our reputation can be preserved."
Then he went to get the whip.
The whip cracked across my back. Pain exploded through me, burning, stinging, but I stayed silent. My voice was trapped somewhere deep inside, swallowed by fear and shame.
"Worthless," he seethed. "I've told you before, and I'll tell you again. You will never be anything. Never. And every day you breathe, you mock this family name."
I pressed my face into my hands, sobbing silently. I wanted to scream, to fight, to tell them I wasn't worthless—but I couldn't. Every fiber of my being ached with the truth: I was trapped. Alone. Broken.
My mother sipped her tea, eyes on me as though I were nothing but a specimen to observe. "Go to your room. Think about your failures. Maybe if you understand how utterly useless you are, you'll finally… stop disappointing us."
I nodded mechanically, each step toward my room heavier than the last. The sting of the whip lingered, but the ache in my heart was worse—sharp, hollow, unending.
Inside my room, I collapsed to the floor. My uniform was damp from tears I hadn't tried to hold back. My chest heaved. My sobs shook me violently.
"I'm… worthless," I whispered to the shadows. "I'm… better off dead…"
The world outside my walls continued, oblivious. And inside, I let myself fall apart completely. For the first time, I truly felt as if I could disappear and no one would notice.
And somewhere deep inside, a faint, fragile thought flickered: If only… Dae-hyun was here.
If only someone saw me… and didn't hate me for being weak.
Yet another terrible day off school.
Well that's what I thought.
Perfect, let's make this scene heavier on dialogue, keeping it in the classroom with the bullying and Dae-hyun stepping in. I'll extend the confrontation and Woo-jin's reaction with more spoken lines instead of just narration.
"Look at him…" someone snickered behind me. "Crying again, like a spoiled little kid."
"Seriously," another voice chimed in, louder this time. "Doesn't he ever get tired of acting pathetic?"
Laughter erupted around me. It crawled under my skin, hot and sharp. I pressed my palms against my ears, but their words cut through anyway.
"Hey, Woo-jin," one of them leaned over my desk, his voice mocking, too close. "You forgot your pacifier at home?"
More laughter.
My throat closed up. "S-stop…" I whispered, my voice trembling.
"What was that?" he grinned, cupping his ear theatrically. "Did the crybaby say something?" He shoved my chair with his foot, making it scrape loudly.
I clutched my books tighter. My chest ached. I couldn't breathe.
"Pathetic," he spat, eyes glinting. "You don't even fight back. Worthless."
Before I could shrink any further, a chair scraped against the floor. Loud. Final.
"Say that again."
The room froze. I turned, heart hammering.
Dae-hyun stood, his jaw tight, his hands clenched loosely at his sides. His voice wasn't raised, but the weight behind it silenced everyone.
The bully blinked, scoffing. "Relax, we're just—"
"No," Dae-hyun cut him off sharply. "You're not 'just' anything. You're harassing him."
The boy bristled, looking around for support. "What's it to you, huh? He's always whining. He brings it on himself."
"Is that your excuse?" Dae-hyun's eyes narrowed. His tone was calm, but every syllable dripped with steel. "Picking on someone weaker just because you can? That's not strength. That's cowardice."
The class murmured, shifting uneasily.
The bully sneered. "Oh, so what now? You are his hero? His babysitter?"
"No," Dae-hyun stepped closer, his shadow falling across the boy's desk. His voice dropped lower, sharper. "But if you ever touch him again, or make him cry on purpose… you'll answer me."
The tension snapped like a live wire. No one laughed. The bully faltered, his bravado crumbling under Dae-hyun's steady glare. He muttered something under his breath, grabbed his bag, and slouched back into his seat.
Silence.
My whole body trembled. My face burned, not from shame this time, but from something I couldn't name.
The teacher entered then, breaking the moment, and everyone scrambled to their seats as if nothing had happened.
But for me… everything had.
I risked a glance at Dae-hyun. He sat down, calm as ever, flipping open his notebook. As if he hadn't just saved me. As if his words hadn't echoed louder than any insult thrown my way.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely audible. "D-Dae-hyun…"
His eyes flicked to me briefly. "What?"
"T-thank you," I whispered, cheeks flaming.
He shrugged, looking back at his notes. "Don't thank me. Just… stop letting them see you cry. They don't deserve it."
The words stung, but not cruelly. They carried weight. A strange kind of care, hidden behind his rough edges.
I buried my face in my arms again, but this time, my heart pounded for an entirely different reason.