I stared with curiosity and awe at the unconscious werewolf. How was his body shrinking, his fur falling out?! His legs rearranged themselves in a sickening spectacle until he transformed into a boy my age—completely naked, without a single scrap of clothing.
Well… The question begged itself: **How do I get out of this chaos my curiosity and sense of justice dragged me into?** There was a dead woman and a naked boy who'd been a werewolf seconds ago. After a moment's thought, I carried the boy away, left the corpse behind, and returned to my apartment, avoiding prying eyes. Luckily—or unluckily—I'd moved to this neighborhood full of criminals, the poor, and gangsters. In the early morning, no one was on the street… except a werewolf and a woman with her throat slit.
I opened the apartment door, dumped the boy in the bathroom, and bound his hands and feet with the iron chains I used for training. I checked the clock: **"There's still time to get to school if I take a taxi…"** But then a question struck me like lightning: **"Do I go to school and leave a werewolf in my bathroom?!"**
Of course not… The werewolf took priority. School wouldn't wait?! As if the world would end if I missed the first day!
I locked the bathroom door with an extra padlock and whispered to the wall as if it were a witness: **"If he wakes up suddenly, the chains will buy me at least ten minutes…"** Then I grabbed my school bag, the image of the slaughtered woman floating like a ghost in my mind.
Despite my words, I went to school to avoid suspicion. I hailed a taxi and told the driver, **"Head to Dong Jin High."**
Dong Jin High was considered the most prestigious academy in Seoul; only top students, prodigies in sports, or those with connections to powerful figures and vast wealth could enroll. Now, some might ask: **"How did I get in?"** The answer was simple: I'd won local championships in boxing, jujutsu, taekwondo, and Muay Thai. I'd studied all these martial arts to defeat the Third Beast, and it had paid off—especially after learning strange combat techniques in the White Room, the same ones the Beast itself used. Those techniques weren't just moves; they were brutally lethal, designed to either end lives or maim.
I stepped out of the taxi, paid the driver, and said, **"Keep the change."** Then I looked at the massive crowd of students swarming the main gate. Everyone wore sleek uniforms, while I was in my battered training jacket, stained with dried blood.
**"Since when was the academic world this shiny?"** I muttered to myself, slipping through the crowd. Suddenly, I noticed a group of students surrounding a skinny boy near the entrance, their gazes provocative. **"They're definitely trouble,"** I thought, recalling my training in reading body language. But the school bell rang, and I was swept inside with the crowd.
The marble-clad building was extravagant, with golden plaques displaying the names of top graduates. The scent of luxury perfume mixed with the ink of new textbooks, as if the place was designed to remind you: **"You're a guest here… behave politely!"**
The group I'd noticed earlier had gathered around the skinny boy. One shoved his shoulder: **"You think this school is for beggars like you?"** The others laughed. I paused, my fists clenching instinctively—until a sharp voice cut through: **"Break it up, now!"**
In class, I sat in the back row, avoiding attention. The lecture was on Greek philosophy, but my mind was on **how to keep the werehog bound until I returned**. Suddenly, a question was directed at me:
**"You're the new combat arts student. What do you know about Alexander the Great's military strategies?"**
I looked at the teacher holding a thick textbook and answered coolly: **"He broke his enemies psychologically before battle… weakened their alliances with cunning."**
Silence. Even the teacher seemed surprised. The bullied boy turned to me with a strange look… as if he saw something in my eyes others didn't.
During break, as I drank juice in a corner, the skinny boy approached:
**"You… you're not like them. I recognize that look—the look of someone with something to lose."**
I shot back: **"And you have the look of someone used to losing."**
He smiled bitterly, then whispered: **"There are secret clubs here… they test new students with fights. Be careful."**
I asked curiously, **"Do you know anything about these clubs?"**
He glanced around nervously before answering, **"Don't speak so loudly about the clubs. And yes, there are three."**
1. **The Blue Bloods Club**
An elite group who saw themselves as "guardians of tradition." They held secret fights in the school basement every Friday. Victory wasn't just about physical strikes but **psychological humiliation tactics** that broke spirits before bodies. The prize? **A key to the locked rooms** rumored to hold documents about failed human experiments from the Japanese occupation era.
2. **The Black Network Club**
Tech geniuses who used the school's advanced labs to hack major corporations. Their motto: **"Knowledge is power… and power is stolen!"** Membership required passing a bizarre test: **stealing a teacher's personal data and forcing them to resign.** They were rumored behind three teachers' disappearances last year.
3. **The Shadow Sons Club**
The most dangerous. Its only members were survivors of the **"Bloody Bus Incident"** five years ago (which claimed 20 students). They practiced dark martial arts resembling predator movements and held occult rituals in the school forest at night. Their creed: **"Only suffering erases weakness."**
I asked cautiously, **"How do you know all this?"**
He answered flatly, pain flickering in his eyes: **"The guy who bullies me has an older brother… a high-ranking Blue Blood."** His bitter smile twisted into suppressed rage: **"He uses me as a footrest when bragging to his friends about the clubs—they don't care if I hear their secrets!"**
I stayed silent, picturing it: **A skinny boy forced to bend like a table while aristocrats laughed.** His voice cut through my thoughts: **"Now that you know… what will you do?"**
I didn't answer. His smile felt like a warning: *"You'll become their plaything too."*
---
Ji-Hoon notices the faint scars on Min-Jae's wrist.
**"Min-Jae-ssi… these scars aren't from ordinary bullying. What did they really do to you in those clubs?"**
Min-Jae's hands tremble around his teacup, his broken smile masking a shaky voice.
**"Know the worst part of being a lab rat? Realizing your screams… get recorded as 'research notes.'"**
Ji-Hoon narrows his eyes, recalling the chained beast in his bathroom.
**"You mean they… experiment on students?"**
Min-Jae jerks forward, glassy eyes flashing with pent-up fury.
**"My sister… attended here five years ago. The day before she vanished, she said the club sought volunteers for 'physical enhancement trials.' A week later, they found her shoe soaked in blood… but not human blood."**
Ji-Hoon leans in, voice tight.
**"Non-human blood… like monsters?"**
Min-Jae pulls an old photo from his wallet: a girl who resembles him, her face scribbled over with black ink.
**"The blood was black, Hoon-ssi. Black as shadow… just like the aura around those club monsters."**
Suddenly, Min-Jae grips Ji-Hoon's arm, eyes blazing.
**"The black aura you saw around that beast? It's not its power. It's their leash. The club uses it to turn them into weapons… like they did to my sister."**
Ji-Hoon remembers the dark halo around the werehog's neck.
**"If we break the aura—"**
Min-Jae cuts him off with a look fiercer than any beast.
**"—we'll unleash monsters that only obey their masters. Are you ready to see what's behind the shadow?"**