This episode contains violence, strong language, and scenes that may be disturbing to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
"You ugly dog!"
"You ungrateful little creature! Worthless!"
"How dare you touch my sandwich, you low-class thief!"
"This is why I don't like dogs that look cute but are annoying—you don't even deserve to be called a pet in my eyes!"
"A disgusting creature like you shouldn't even live! Just go die!"
"If you're hungry, go back to your master! Don't be a nuisance freeloading off others, you weakling!"
The stream of hateful words struck Margaret's ears sharply.
A long ringing sounded in her head, causing her blood to surge warmly and her cheeks to suddenly flush hot. She felt a strange pulse, not just in her ears, but throughout her entire body.
Her eyes trembled, not out of fear, but because of what she was witnessing—a sight that slapped her logic, shook her feelings, making her hands clench unconsciously.
There, in the corner of the school yard circled by tall, old trees—a place that usually embraced the evening breeze and offered a quiet space for anyone seeking shelter—a different scene was unfolding.
Two female students stood surrounding a small white dog.
The creature was now trapped within the vicious circle of the two humans whose faces were etched with disgust.
With deliberately rough movements of their feet, they chased it away, igniting fear that darted in the small creature's eyes. Every swing of their legs forced the dog to flinch backward.
The tiny body jolted repeatedly, trying to evade, trying to escape, but the girls' movements seemed purposely designed to close off all remaining paths. There was no room for the weak creature to hide, other than attempting to press itself against the roots of the large, towering tree, like a natural shield being summoned.
"What's wrong? Are you scared now?"
"If you're scared, you shouldn't have acted like a little hero who loves to steal, especially with a body as weak as yours!"
"Do you think that with your black, beautiful, and captivating eyes, I'll stop chasing you? Don't be stupid!"
"A thief is still a thief!"
"Anyone who steals what isn't theirs—even if it's just an animal whose life the world never cares about—still deserves punishment!"
Their laughter simply exploded, filling the space between the towering trees.
But that laughter was not one of happiness; it was saturated with a terrifying pleasure, like someone enjoying their own reflection while crushing something that couldn't fight back.
And beneath that laughter, the small white dog curled up deeper, almost melting into the gaps between the roots, as if hoping the earth would open a fissure so it could vanish from the world that was hunting it.
Margaret's hands clenched even tighter, until her knuckles turned white. The laughter of the two female students continued to echo in her ears, like a sound revolving in the empty space of her head, piercing every corner of her mind.
Suddenly, both her eyes widened.
But it wasn't because of the dirty sandwich still clamped in the small white dog's teeth. Nor was it because of the increasingly wild movements of the two girls' feet.
The reason Margaret's breath caught was the tip of one of their shoes—hanging directly above the creature's tiny head, as if only waiting for the final second to drop a small explosion that would crush something fragile.
And before that could happen—before the world granted that cruelty a chance to land—Margaret moved.
Her body shot forward like an arrow released without hesitation.
She grabbed the arm of one of the students with a sudden, rough grip, pulling her back. The yank was strong enough that the girl staggered, her foot nearly tripping over a small root.
"What are you doing with that dog?"
Margaret's tone was cold and piercing.
Her sharp gaze immediately penetrated the eyes of the other student, who stared back in stunned disbelief, unblinking, as if all the arrogance and certainty she had carried instantly collapsed.
But it was only for a moment.
Because Margaret's attention was immediately drawn to the small creature on the ground, her body instinctively leaning down. Her gaze fixed there, unable to look away. Her eyes widened again, this time not because of burning rage or anger, but because of something much more heartbreaking.
One of the white dog's front paws was wounded.
There was a wet, red streak dripping, staining its white fur, and a cold wave seemed to slap Margaret's chest. Her body instantly froze, rigid, as if all movement had stopped in one heavy second.