:No place for the weak(C1)
“Oh, stop crying like a sissy, Nare. We didn’t hit you that much, right, William?”
“Hey, the punishment isn’t enough. He deserves a better beating. He should’ve stayed in his place.”
“You dare say no to our school head’s request, huh? What gives a lowly runt like you that authority, you skinny bastard?”
Nare, a frail, weak boy so skinny it seemed a burst of wind could carry him away, sitting miserably on the floor. His body was bruised, his glasses shattered, and his eyes struggled to hold back the tears trying to escape.
A tall man stood in front of him, wearing the same uniform but with a red tie—a symbol of belonging to a rich family. Behind him were others wearing the same tie. They stared at the frail boy in the green one with eyes like goblins who did as they pleased.
The tall man spoke in the cold, tiled walls of the school bathroom—the place where this cruel event was taking place.
“I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere else. I’ve had enough fun with this nerd.”
The tall man, named William, spoke, and as soon as he did, the others stopped. One guy hesitantly asked,
“Are you sure?”
William replied,
“I said, let’s go.”
The boy fell silent and followed him. One by one, they all left. The bathroom became empty, and finally, the frail boy broke into tears as his cries echoed through the four walls.
“Why me?”
“What did I ever do to them?”
The boy, who had barely seen the darker side of the world, never imagined that what he thought was the greatest leap of his life would become his greatest downfall.
Nare, a boy born into a household that was neither rich nor poor—just middle class—had only one dream: to get a good education and then a good job so he could climb the social ladder. For that, he worked hard and earned high grades.
Then he was accepted into Central High, one of the most prestigious high schools in the nation, on a scholarship. To him, it felt like a dream come true.
All the elites, big names, and powerful figures of the nation usually graduated from there—whether they were great writers, politicians, actors, or world-class athletes. The students of the high school excelled in every field.
The students were handed their uniforms by a group of seniors standing at the gates, distributing them.
Then he remembered his first day—how everything had felt so perfect when he had entered through gates nearly ten meters tall, which seemed to proclaim their magnificent craftsmanship.
He saw the buildings and blocks—true masterpieces of architecture, built in the late Victorian style.
He had gotten lost more than a dozen times, as the campus was massive. Somehow, he managed to navigate through the corridors and doorways until he finally found his classroom.
When he entered, the classroom—larger than his own house—made him feel as though he had stepped into an entirely different world. The atmosphere overwhelmed him; it carried a rich, almost intoxicating scent.
He was noticed by his classmates, particularly a familiar tall figure named William. At first, William greeted him with a warm smile that seemed genuine.
Then he sat beside him, striking up small talk, trying to get to know him.
“So, you’re a scholar?”
Nare, genuinely surprised, spoke up.
“Yes! How did you know?”
William chuckled before replying,
“You have a green tie. It’s given to all scholarship students, while red ones are for those who pay to attend.”
Nare asked,
“Why the difference in uniform?”
Before William could respond, the class bell rang. An elderly man, dressed in a finely tailored black silk suit and a black tie, entered the room.
The man soon stood at the front of the class. He radiated an oppressive aura, which Nare chose to ignore. Stepping forward, he spoke,
“Good morning, students. I am Otto von Schneider. Remember the name.”
Nare leaned toward William and whispered,
“I suppose black ties are for professors?”
William replied quietly,
“Now you’re getting it! By the way, if you see anyone with a maroon tie, it means they belong to the student council—and black ties are for staff.”
Nare tried to respond, but he was abruptly cut off.
“Care to share what topic you two were discussing?”
It was Professor Otto von Schneider.
“Nothing, Professor Otto vo—sorry, what was your name again?” William replied.
The professor responded coldly,
“If the name is too long to remember, just call me Professor von—and do not disturb my class again.”
They both turned their attention forward as the professor continued his lesson. Nare found himself enjoying it, as he loved learning new things—while William, on the other hand, slacked off.
When the bell rang, Professor von left the classroom after assigning work, saying,
“All of you must have the assignment ready by tomorrow. Excuses will not be tolerated—only results.”
As class ended, William turned to Nare with a smirk.
“Hey, could you help me out a little?”
Nare replied innocently,
“Sure. What do you need help with?”
William’s smirk widened.
“Oh, nothing much. I’m just a bit busy, so I won’t be able to do my assignments. Could you do them for me?”
Nare, being kind-hearted and always willing to help others, agreed.
“Fine—just this once. But you’ll do it yourself next time.”
That “next time” never came.
Day after day, William continued to rely on him. Completing William’s assignments became a routine part of Nare’s life.
Soon, more students began asking him for help. At first, it seemed harmless.
But as the semester progressed, the workload increased. He found himself on the verge of breaking down under the pressure.
He wanted to refuse—but he lacked the courage. He couldn’t bring himself to say no or face the disappointment of his peers. Before he realized it, he had become trapped in a cycle he couldn’t escape.
William slowly began to ignore him. The only time they spoke was when William needed a favor.
One day, while walking through the hallway, Nare saw William surrounded by a group of students—all wearing red ties. It was clearly not a place for someone like him.
He intended to walk away, but something caught his attention—William’s voice.
“That dark blue-haired freak… he’s such an idiot.”
Someone else spoke up,
“Hey, don’t be that harsh. He does your assignments for you.”
William scoffed.
“That’s the least that little rat can do for me. A bastard like him should be grateful to serve us—that’s the highest honor he’ll ever get.”
Nare froze, shocked by the words.
Before he could be noticed, he quickly slipped into a nearby storage room.
William’s voice continued,
“He actually thinks I’m his friend. A lowlife like him needs to understand the difference—green ties and red ties belong to completely different worlds.”
The words cut him deep.
Nare couldn’t believe how someone could harbor such hatred towards him.
That was the moment he decided—he would stop doing favors for William. He would cut all ties with this wolf in sheep’s clothing.
The next day, when William approached him again with that same fake friendliness—
“Hey Nare, can you—”
Nare cut him off sharply.
“No. Do it yourself, you damn rascal"
A small crack appeared in his carefully worn social mask as he spoke again, his tone sharper this time.
“Why? What happened?”
Nare didn’t hesitate.
“I already said no, didn’t I?”
William’s expression began to shift—slowly, subtly—like something darker was surfacing beneath.
“Come on,”
he said, forcing a grin.
“Help a brother out. Don’t be a jackass.”
Nare’s eyes narrowed.
“William, I’ve heard how you talk about me in front of your other friends. So no—no help for you.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the air in the room changed.
William’s face darkened—not with regret, but with something far worse. A quiet, simmering fury twisted into a grin… one that didn’t belong on a normal face.
The classroom fell silent.
Nare, oblivious at first, suddenly felt a chill crawl down his spine. When he looked up and met William’s gaze, his stomach dropped. That grin. It was wrong. Twisted. Almost… devilish.
“Dude,”
someone muttered nervously from the side,
“you should back off.”
William ignored him.
When he spoke again, his voice was cold—sharp enough to cut.
“Hey, lowly runt. I didn’t ask you… I ordered you. If you don’t agree—”
his grin widened,
“—I’ll find other ways.”
Summoning all his courage, Nare shouted back,
“I said no, you damn scum—”
He never finished.
The next thing he knew, the world spun—and he was on the floor.
“…Did I just get punched?”
he muttered, dazed.
A sharp pain exploded in his head.
Then came another And another.
The blows didn’t stop.
Fists. Kicks. Relentless.
Nare couldn’t fight back—he didn’t know how. William did. He had been trained, taught how to strike, how to dominate.
All Nare could do… was endure.
The class watched.
Some turned away. Some stared and some—like vultures—joined in
“How dare you disobey me someone from a powerful family, you lowlife!”
one of them sneered before driving a kick into Nare’s side.More followed.
Red ties. One after another.
The room filled with Nare’s cries as he begged them to stop.
No one stepped in.
Not a single person.
After it was over, Nare dragged himself back to his desk, every step heavy with pain. He pulled his sleeves down, trying to hide the bruises.
But hiding them didn’t stop anything.
The beatings became routine.
Daily.
Anyone wearing a red tie felt entitled to hit him whenever they pleased. And with each passing day, the punishment grew worse.
Still, he held onto one fragile hope—justice.
The bullying wasn’t limited to Nare alone. Any scholar like him — students who made up roughly twenty percent of the total enrollment — became easy targets.
One day, desperate for help, Nare gathered his courage and approached the teachers’ office to report the relentless harassment. Instead of support, he was met with disappointment as he overheard their conversation through the slightly open door.
“The bullying has started again this year,”
one professor said wearily.
“It took it's time,I had really hoped this year would finally be peaceful.”
Another professor sighed. “When rich and poor are forced together in the same place, the strong inevitably prey on the weak. It’s bound to happen.”
“The Greens have been bullied by the Reds for nearly a decade,”
a third voice added,
“ever since the school first opened.”
Nare’s fragile hope for justice from the school administration grew thinner with every word. Hidden in the hallway, he felt his chest tighten as tears welled up in his eyes. There was no escape — not even through the professors.
Then Professor Von spoke, his tone heavy with resignation.
“Well, it’s the Student Council’s job, not ours. We don’t have the authority to control those little runts. But some members of the council can keep most of the Reds in check — after all, many of them come from influential families as well.”
Professor Von sounded utterly helpless.
“In reality, we staff and administration have no real power. The true authority lies with the parents — whether they choose to discipline their children or let them run wild like devils. We're just puppets of the powerfull”
He let out a deep sigh before continuing.
“They are far more powerful than ordinary students. In this world, only the bigger fish can devour the smaller ones… unless the smaller ones have numbers on their side. But here, they lack both numbers and power.”
“In simple terms,”
Von added quietly,
“only students from the bigger families can truly control the others. Let’s just hope this year’s Student Council is as strong as last year’s.”
His voice grew softer, as if he didn’t want to dwell on the subject any longer.
“I really don’t want this year to turn out like the one three years ago…”
Those words sparked a flicker of hope in Nare’s heart, yet they also made fresh tears spill down his cheeks. The hell he was trapped in felt almost impossible to escape. Everything now depended on the strength of the Student Council.
One day, gathering what little courage he had left, Nare made his way to the student council room.
As he approached, he spotted a senior member standing by the door.
Nare spoke, his voice carrying a flicker of hope.
“Senior… I want to report a case of bullying.”
The senior’s expression turned serious.
“Who is the victim?”
Nare hesitated for only a second before pulling back his sleeve, revealing the bruises.
“I am.”
The senior’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quickly, he asked,
“Who’s responsible? Where did it happen? Were there any witnesses?”
Nare took a breath.
“William Roye. He did this.”
Silence.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence.
Then the senior’s expression changed—not to anger, but to something closer to fear.
“You seriously want to take action against William Roye?”
he said slowly.
“Are you out of your mind?”
Nare blinked, confused.
“Why?”
The senior leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“…Because his family isn’t just powerful.”
He paused.
“They’re powerful in the underworld"
At that moment nare's eyes felt empty like a void filled with despair.
To be continued
