I was six years old.
For three whole years, in that quiet, old house, my grandmother built a world for me— not with toys, not with money, not with tablets or phones—but with words, with love, with patience.
She held my hand, taught me to read, to write, to think.
From morning till night, she practiced with me, set up brain games, made puzzles, asked questions, and I answered… I knew more than the kids on TV.
In that house, I felt strong. Special. Smart.
But the real world wasn't there.
The real world was beyond the door. In the street. At school.
One day before enrollment, my grandmother gently called me:
"Ranji, tomorrow we're going to school. Be ready, my dear."
For a moment, my heart stopped. Was I ready? No. I was never ready.
My lips said "Okay," but inside… it felt like an earthquake.
The fear from kindergarten returned. No, not just returned—it overwhelmed me.
Those looks… those whispers… the distancing.
The fear that everyone would treat me like something strange. Like something scary.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. I kept thinking:
Maybe someone will need help, and I'll help them… Maybe if I show kindness, they'll like me too…
Maybe just… maybe just one person will say: Come sit next to me.
Morning came.
My grandmother smiled and said:
"Ranji, it's time." I
said:
"I'm coming."
I came. But my heart hadn't arrived yet.
We went to the bus stop. We sat down. A few young girls were chatting nearby.
One of them said:
"Be thankful your little brother just jokes around; imagine if his face looked like that kid's?"
The second said:
"Lower your voice… he can hear us…"
I heard them. Every single word.
They pierced my mind.
Like a hot nail driven into your heart.
But I stayed silent. Didn't look. Didn't speak.
My grandmother looked at them. Sharply. With an anger in her eyes that never reached her voice.
But I understood… everything starts here. I hadn't even entered school, but the judgments had begun.
At that moment… I wanted to throw myself into her arms.
To say:
"Don't let me go… don't let me enter that hell alone…"
But I didn't say it.
We arrived at school. A large iron gate, black, heavy.
Maybe for others, it was just a school gate.
But for me… it was a portal from my grandmother's little heaven to the hell I feared.
Children were running, laughing, screaming.They wore uniforms, colorful backpacks, shiny shoes.
They talked, they laughed.
I just watched.
I had completely forgotten that kids my age were supposed to be like this.
We entered the office. The principal was sitting. A middle-aged man with small eyes and a sparse beard.
When he saw me, he didn't frown, didn't step back, he smiled.
It felt strange.
That smile—without fear, without pity.
My grandmother spoke with him, told him how I had learned to read, to write, to solve puzzles, even math.
The man listened, nodded, said:
"Excellent, truly excellent. I'm glad to have a student like you." I
said:
"My name is Ranji Tasuko. Thank you for letting me study here."
He said:
"Little Ranji, welcome to our school."
Everything was fine… until the moment he said:
"I just have a suggestion for you, but I don't know how to say it without being
misunderstood… maybe it's better if you wear a mask in class. So no one bothers you."
I couldn't breathe.
A mask? For what?
To hide what? The face that is me? The appearance that is me?
Wear a mask?
Does that mean I'm going to suffer so much that I have to hide my face?
Does that mean I can't be myself?
I said:
"I'm not bothering anyone. I don't have a mask."
My grandmother quickly said:
"A mask? That would cause more mockery than protection."
The principal said:"I know. But some kids are cruel. They still don't know the difference between good and
bad."
When we left the office, I felt terrible.
It was like someone was squeezing the bottom of my heart.
That night, dinner was ready. My grandmother called me. Several times.
I didn't hear. Or maybe… I didn't want to hear.
The next morning, I wore my uniform. Dark pants, a blue-collared shirt. Backpack, books, lunchbox.
In front of the school, my grandmother said:
"Pay attention to your lessons, dear."
I said:
"Yes, grandmother."
I walked toward the building.
When I turned to see her, she was still standing there. Smiling, waving.
I waved back. Without a smile.
I found class A1. Opened the door.
The looks… the silence…
Everyone who saw me stopped. Didn't blink.
For a few moments, everything froze.
I sat in the back seat. Without a word. Without looking.
The lesson began. The teacher introduced herself. One by one, it was our turn.
When it was my turn, I took a breath and said:
"My name is Ranji Tasukoe. I'm glad to meet you. I hope we can be good friends."
The boy in front smirked. A few others chuckled under their breath.
But I stayed silent.
The teacher said, "Thank you, Ranji. You may sit down again."
Recess came. Everyone brought their food. Some ate in class, some in the yard, some in the cafeteria.
I, out of fear of the looks, stayed there. In class.
Until a boy came. He said:
"Hey! My name's Konoe. Who are you?"
t was the first time someone approached me. My heart trembled. I said:
"My name's Ranji. Nice to meet you."
He asked:
"What did you bring for lunch?"
I said:
"A sandwich with sausage, eggplant, and lettuce."
He told his friend:
"See? Told you! Weird kid, probably poor, our food's way better!"
He laughed at me and left.
Hearing those words made the classroom atmosphere heavy for me. I wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
I went to the cafeteria. There was an empty table. I sat down. A girl said:
"Oh no, don't sit in front of us. We're eating, it's making us sick!"
Then her friends raised their voices and said, "Go away!"
I wanted to scream. To smash my lunch on their heads. To say:
"I want to eat too! Why do you think you're better than me?"
But I said nothing. Just went to a corner of the yard. Sat down. Alone. Ate my food.
Then I returned to class. I saw that now several people had teamed up. They said:"Good job, from now on always eat outside, you weirdo!"
And they started laughing loudly.
Seeing that everyone was turning against me, I lost myself. I just wanted to get back home as quickly as possible.
I left the class quickly.
Went to the bathroom. Locked myself in one of the stalls. Waited until recess ended, then returned to that hell called class.
The lesson ended. I picked up my backpack. Ran away.
It felt like I had been released from prison.
I wanted to tell my grandmother I didn't want to go to school anymore. To say, "Teach me yourself like before. Others aren't as kind as you." But when I saw her happiness, I couldn't.
She asked:
"How was your first day? Was it hard? Did you make friends?"
I said:
"The lessons were easy. The kids were kind. We ate together, talked…"
My grandmother's smile deepened. She said:
"I'm glad everything went well."
I thought to myself:
"If one lie can keep her happy… then I'll lie forever."
The next day, before school, I went to a shop that sold masks. I bought a white mask with red eyes and a smile. And I went to school with it.
And from that day on, the only people who called me by my name were the teachers.
The rest either called me the weird masked kid or the crazy one.
I was six when I started wearing a mask. From the day I decided to hide my true face from everyone, ten years have passed. I'm now in tenth grade. In these ten years, I got used to cruelty. Well, "got used to" isn't the right word; because it still hurts, the wounds are still fresh... I just learned to accept it: I'm cursed. Someone whose very existence brings misery. Someone who seems undeserving of happiness.
During the day, I wore my mask, and at night when I went to my grandmother's, even without the mask, I still felt the weight of it pressing down on me. I never told her what I went through at school. I didn't want to see worry in her eyes. I wanted her to be happy.
My whole life had turned into a bitter lie. And the fact that my grandma was growing older, that was another grief for me.
Sometimes I wonder, if one day I just disappeared, would anyone even notice I wasgone? Would anyone even ask if someone named Ranji had ever existed?
In these ten years, I never had a friend. Not because I didn't want one, but because no one wanted to be friends with me. No one even wanted to talk to me. During group work in class, everyone would quickly sit next to each other so I wouldn't sit by them. But it didn't matter to me. I was strong in school, stronger than the others. And I had gotten
used to being alone.
The only light in my life was going home after school. The only place where my
grandmother waited for me with her homemade food. A warm and loving feeling—knowing someone in this world saw me, someone was waiting for me, someone loved me.
But fate wanted to take away even that small light from me.
Like always, I left school and on the way home, I saw a small white kitten with big black eyes and a silver collar around its neck. I realized it had an owner. No one was around.
I slowly approached it, and suddenly it growled softly. I thought maybe it was scared of my mask. So I lifted my mask and gently said, "It's okay, little one, I won't hurt you. Did your owner lose you?" I bent down to pet it.
At that moment, a scream rang out: "Freddy! Freddy!"
I turned my head. I saw a girl—my classmate, Bali—run into the alley with a worried face. When she saw me without my mask and my hand on her cat, she screamed with rage and fear: "Freddy! Let go of my cat! What are you doing to him?!"
I said, "It's a misunderstanding. I'm not hurting him, I just—"
But she suddenly ran toward me. The cat, startled, ran off toward the end of the alley.
Bali chased after it. I quickly put my mask back on and wanted to go after her to explain, but when she saw me coming toward her, she ran faster... and suddenly, everything happened at once.
A car turned into the alley and hit her.
She fell to the ground. Blood poured from her head. Her leg was completely broken.
People gathered. When they saw me with the mask, all eyes turned to me—because both of us had come out of the alley at the same time. I looked down and ran away.
On the way, my voice echoed in my head: "What was that? Why did it happen like this?
She... she was bleeding. She must be dead... What do I do now? It's all my fault... I shouldn't have gone to the cat... if something happens to her, what should I do...?"
I got home. I took off my mask and went inside.
Grandma asked, "Why do you look so pale, my dear?"
I said, "Nothing, I'm just hungry."
But at night, my nightmare began. I couldn't sleep all night, haunted by what had happened to her.
The next morning, I saw Bali's picture at the school gate. The kids were putting flowers for her.
The real Bali was dead.
Hopelessness, fear—things I'd always dealt with—this time overwhelmed me in a new way. I had caused someone's death. After seeing that scene, I ran with all my might. I kept repeating to myself: "I'm a killer... I caused her death..."
I wandered the city aimlessly. Near sunset, I headed home so grandma wouldn't worry.
She asked, "Where were you, my dear?"
I said, "I was out with friends."
She asked, "Did you have fun?"
I said, "Yeah, a lot... we ate, talked, sang... it was really fun." Then
I said, "I'm not eating dinner. I'm full. I'm going to bed."
I lay in bed. I told myself:
"Don't think... just don't think... not about that scene, not about the scream... be
strong... for grandma... it was just an accident and you're not to blame..." I kept repeating those sentences to myself when suddenly, it was dark outside and the door shook with loud knocking. Someone was banging hard on the door. I wanted to open it, but grandma went first and said, "I'll get it."
When she opened the door, three strong men entered.
A man with a tattooed face shouted: "Does Ranji live here?"
Grandma said, "Yes, I'm his grandmother. What's going on?"
The tattooed man said: "He killed my sister... I'll kill that bastard myself."
Grandma said, "What are you saying?"
And suddenly, he shoved her violently. Her head hit the table and blood started to flow.
When I saw this, I ran to grandma.
I screamed: "Grandma! Grandma! Get up!"
She didn't respond. I was screaming when the man grabbed me by the hair and said,
"Are you Ranji?"
I said, "Yes! But... please call an ambulance... my grandma is bleeding... she's an old
woman..."
He said: "You better worry about yourself, you beggar kid! You're so ugly! You disgust me!" And he spat in my face.
He told his guys: "Take him!"
They grabbed me. No matter how much I struggled, it was no use. I looked at my
grandma's bloody body. My heart burned. I clenched my fist and hit one of the guys' ears, he dropped his phone. I fell to the ground, got back up, and rushed to my grandma. I hugged her tightly... screamed, "Grandma! Can you hear me? Please wake up... don't leave me alone... you're all I have..."
Suddenly, a blow hit the back of my head. I blacked out.
When I came to, I was in a dark warehouse. Around me were addicts and thieves. The tattooed man stood in front of me and said:
"My name is Kim Yukiniro. Brother of Bali Yukiniro. The same girl you killed. Now you're going to die... but not easily."
I tried to speak, but he said, "Shut up! You're Ranji... son of Sylvia and Jang. Those two filthy thieves who stole drugs from us and never paid. Now they've disappeared. I guess they thought you should pay the price."
He shouted: "Anyone with a grudge against Sylvia and Jang, come beat up their kid!"
Everyone laughed. Someone said, "But boss, he's just a kid!" The
boss punched him in the face.
Then they all came at me.
I covered my head, but it was useless. They kicked my legs, head, stomach, arms so much I couldn't move or stand.
He laughed and said: "Did you enjoy that?"
I barely said, "My grandma's alone... call an ambulance... if she keeps bleeding, she'll die... please let me go save her. I promise I'll come back..."
He shouted: "I told you to only care about yourself! Why aren't you crying?! Is it not enough? Or is your pride stopping you?"
He added: "I'm sure my sister cried a lot before she died—and it was because of you, you cursed brat. So now you'll suffer a hundred times more."
He laughed and said: "I'll make you cry!"
I remembered my mother... I thought maybe if I had cried back then, maybe my face wouldn't be like this. Maybe there'd be no scars. Maybe I wouldn't be here now...
He shouted: "Take him to the dogs!"
I said, "Please... let me go to my grandma... I just want to save her... after that, do whatever you want to me..."
But two men grabbed my arms.
I screamed: "Please let me go! I need to call an ambulance!"
When I heard the dogs growling, I knew they weren't puppies... they were monsters.
Four giant black dogs... more like bulls than dogs.
They threw me into a cage. I screamed: "Please... my grandma's alone... I need to save her... let me go..."
One of the dogs jumped on my head and bit my shoulder off. I screamed: "Grandma!
Grandma!" I punched the cage bars, begged...
"Let me save my grandma! She's all I have!"
And then... there was only darkness.