Han Dae Su wasn't anyone special. Not in the eyes of his classmates, not in the halls of Jinhwa Private Academy, and certainly not in a city where the wealthy walked on polished marble while the poor begged for scraps in alleyways. He was invisible, but not in the way that kept you safe. He was the kind of invisible that made you an easy target.
Every morning felt the same.
The heavy gates of the academy loomed like the mouth of a beast, swallowing him whole the moment he stepped inside. Students in tailored uniforms and gleaming watches passed by without a glance, their laughter sharp as glass. Han Dae Su kept his head down, clenching his worn-out bag strap like it might somehow anchor him to the earth.
And then, the first voice of the day.
"Oi, trash."
It was always Kim Min Seok. Slick black hair, smug grin, and eyes that gleamed like a snake's. He didn't need a reason. Some people kicked dogs because they could. Min Seok was the kind who kicked the same dog every day, just to watch it flinch.
Dae Su didn't answer. That was a mistake.
A sharp kick struck the back of his knee, sending him stumbling forward. His bag spilled open. Books scattered across the pavement. Laughter rippled through the courtyard.
"Tch. Not even fun anymore," Min Seok sneered, stepping over him like garbage.
The other nine followed. Park Jae Hyun's hand slapped the back of his head as he passed. Oh Seung Min casually kicked a book into a nearby puddle. They didn't need a plan. It was routine. Like clockwork.
Teachers watched from classroom windows, pretending not to see.
In the cafeteria, it was worse.
Dae Su learned to sit at the far end, a corner seat with a clear view of the exits. Not that it mattered. His food would be taken. His drink poured out. Someone would 'accidentally' spill soup on his uniform. It was never the same boy twice, but it was always one of the ten.
Today, it was Lee Do Jin.
A bowl of hot curry tipped over his head. The sting of spice in his eyes. The sudden hush of the room before it broke into mocking laughter.
"Oops," Do Jin grinned. "Careful, man. You're clumsy as hell."
No one offered help. No one met his gaze.
Dae Su wiped his eyes with a sleeve and stood. He wanted to scream. To throw a punch. To shout until his throat bled. But he knew better. The last boy who spoke back transferred schools. Or so they said. No one ever heard from him again.
In the locker room, his shoes were missing. In the classroom, his notes defaced. At practice, the coach made him run laps until his legs gave out while the ten laughed from the sidelines.
It wasn't a day. It was a routine.
Even home wasn't safe. His parents asked questions. "Is everything alright at school, Dae Su?" his mother would ask, worry creasing her brow. His father's face was tighter, jaw clenched, but both spoke with hope in their voices, as if their son would one day say yes.
But what was the point? Who would believe him? Who would care?
So he smiled. Said it was fine. Said nothing happened. Every day.
At night, in the cracked mirror of his tiny room, he'd stare at his reflection, at the bruises that never seemed to fade. At the eyes that no longer looked surprised.
He was used to it.
That was the worst part.
Another day. Another kick. Another insult. Another breath taken just to survive one more hour.
Han Dae Su wasn't anyone important.
And in a city like this, nobodies weren't allowed to fight back.