The back of the school was quieter than the rest of the campus, away from the prying eyes of teachers and students. The faint hum of distant conversations drifted in the air, but it was mostly silence—until Minho and his friends stepped into the narrow space. They surrounded Tae, their presence suffocating.
Tae's eyes locked with Minho's. The strong, handsome figure in front of him radiated an aura of power that the other boys practically fed off. Minho's reputation was well-known—he was the strongest in the school, the guy who had everything. Wealth. Strength. Respect. And now, most importantly for Tae, he had Jiwon.
"You really think you can just walk up to her?" Minho sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
"You think you deserve her attention? You're nothing. Just a smart kid who thinks he's got it all."
Tae didn't back down, though every fiber of his body told him to run. He had to stand his ground, even if it meant enduring whatever Minho had in store for him.
Minho took a step closer, his friends following suit, forming an unspoken barrier.
"Jiwon's mine, Kang. You're just a little joke, trying to play in a league you don't belong in."
Tae's chest tightened, but he didn't speak, didn't give them the satisfaction of showing weakness.
Minho's grin widened, his fist coming up in a blur of motion. Before Tae could react, the punch landed squarely in his stomach. The air whooshed out of him as pain exploded across his body, and he staggered back, unable to catch his breath.
The sound of the punch echoed, drawing a small crowd of students who'd heard the commotion. Whispers spread quickly, the atmosphere shifting from curiosity to something darker. Tae's heart pounded in his chest, his body aching with the effort to stand. The blow Minho had landed earlier still rattled in his skull, but his pride burned brighter than the pain. He wasn't going to just lie there. He swung wildly, his fist cutting through the air in a desperate attempt to land a blow.
Minho stepped back effortlessly, dodging the punch with ease. His eyes were filled with amusement, like watching an ant struggle against a boot. Tae's frustration grew. He swung again—this time at Minho's jaw—but once more, Minho moved like water, slipping to the side with a fluid motion.
"Is this all you've got?" Minho taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "I thought you were supposed to be tough."
Tae's anger surged, but his movements were sloppy. His fists flew through the air, but none of them connected. Each swing felt heavier, his body growing more sluggish with every failed attempt. The laughter around him grew louder, more mocking. His classmates circled them, phones raised to capture the humiliation unfolding before them. Tae's breath came in short, ragged bursts.
He swung one last time, aiming for Minho's face, but Minho was already behind him. With a cruel left hook to Tae's jaw, Minho sent him sprawling to the ground. Tae's palms scraped against the rough asphalt as he tried to push himself up, but his limbs were like lead. It wasn't like this was Tae's first time in this kind of situation, but that time was different...
He managed to raise his head, and his eyes locked onto Jinho's. The look in Jinho's eyes wasn't sympathy, or even indifference—it was cold. Detached. As if Tae was nothing more than a passing distraction. Tae's heart sank. Jinho's gaze flicked away quickly, like he was ashamed to even acknowledge Tae's pain.
Tae's head was spinning, his vision blurred by tears he refused to shed. The laughter of his classmates echoed in his ears as Minho's booted foot came down on his chest, pinning him to the ground.
"You're nothing but a shadow in my world," Minho sneered, placing his foot harder against Tae's ribs. The pressure stole the last of his air, leaving him gasping for breath.
Tae's breath came in ragged gasps as he lay there, helpless beneath Minho's foot. His mind screamed for him to fight back, but his body refused to obey. He lifted his head, eyes scanning the crowd that had gathered around him, all of them watching—laughing, recording, enjoying the show. Each face was like a reminder that they weren't his friends. They weren't his allies. They were just spectators to his pain. The last time he was in this kinda situation he had stepped up for someone else, who was gonna step up for him this time?
He looked to his past friends. Jinho, standing there, his arms crossed, offering nothing but a cold, distant stare. The same Jinho who had laughed with him, trained with him, shared jokes and dreams. Now, he didn't even have the decency to step forward. His eyes flicked over to Tae for just a moment, then quickly turned away, like he was embarrassed to be associated with him.
Tae's heart sank further. He could barely breathe beneath the weight of Minho's foot, but it was the betrayal, the isolation, that cut the deepest. His friends, the ones he thought he could count on—were nothing more than strangers now.
Then his gaze shifted. Jiwon. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes? She wasn't looking at him. She wasn't even paying attention. Her fingers absently twisted through her hair, lost in her own world. Tae's stomach twisted. She had once been the girl he dreamed of, the girl he'd believed could see something in him just like a certain person from his past. But now, she was no different from the others. Indifferent. Unbothered.
His chest tightened with a rush of fury and humiliation. His whole life had been a lie. The things he'd believed about reputation, status, strength—none of it mattered. Not here. Not now.
But then something inside him snapped.
With every ounce of strength he had left, Tae pushed against Minho's foot, shoving it off his chest with a grunt. He didn't wait to see Minho's reaction. His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and with a burst of adrenaline, he sprinted away from the crowd. His body screamed in protest, but he ran faster than he ever thought possible, his heart pounding, the sounds of laughter and mockery fading behind him.
His mind raced, replaying the humiliation over and over. They all saw me. They saw me weak, pathetic. They saw me fall and did nothing. He felt the burn in his throat, the sting of tears he couldn't let fall. I thought I was better than this. I thought I was strong... like last time. I was... so wrong.
As his feet hit the pavement, Tae's thoughts became a jumble of anger and regret. I was nothing. Just a fool. The wind whipped past his face, cold and biting, but it didn't numb the pain inside. Jiwon. Jinho. I trusted them. I trusted all of them. And they... they just watched.
His chest heaved as he rounded the corner, the school behind him now just a distant blur. But the sting of betrayal? That was still there. You're nothing, Tae Kang. You never were…
Tae slammed the door behind him, the loud sound echoing through the quiet house. His chest was tight, his chest still sore from the fight, but it was the humiliation that burned the most. He couldn't stop seeing the laughing faces in his mind, the way everyone had gathered around to watch him fall. It wasn't just Minho. It was everyone. His friends, classmates, people he thought he could trust, people he thought were on his side. They weren't.
His breath quickened as he walked down the hallway, past the empty living room, and straight to his bedroom. Slamming the door behind him, he dropped onto the floor, staring at the ceiling. His hands pressed against his forehead as if trying to push away the thoughts that were relentlessly assaulting him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. None of it.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, his eyes scanning the screen as his stomach churned. Yapchat. The notifications were flooding in—comments, reactions, and video clips of his humiliation. People tagging him, making jokes, laughing at his expense. He couldn't escape it. Not now. Not ever. Even if he wanted to forget, everyone else had already made sure it would be impossible. His face. His voice. His failure. All of it, captured forever.
A sick feeling crept through his chest. The words scrolling across his screen felt like daggers. "Look at Tae Kang. Thought he was something special. Too bad he's nothing." The mocking comments, the laughing emojis. He could almost hear their voices echoing in his ears. "Pathetic."
The screen blurred as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the suffocating wave of embarrassment. He wanted to disappear.
Lying back on the floor, his gaze slowly drifted to the ceiling. His body was heavy, his chest tight with frustration and anger. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, hollow and bitter. What's the point of all this? he thought. What's the point of trying to be better, to stand tall, if it means nothing?
Strength. That's what it all boiled down to. Strength.
The weight of that realization crushed him. Strength wasn't just about how hard you hit or how fast you could run. It was about power. Reputation. Money. The things that made people bow down to you. It was everything. The stronger you were, the more people feared and respected you. The more people feared you, the less they could laugh at you. The less they could take what little dignity you had left.
But Tae didn't have that kind of strength. Not anymore.
His phone buzzed again, a notification from Yapchat. Another video. He could hear the laughter behind it, feel the sting of it in his chest. He didn't need to watch it. He already knew what was in it. Another clip. Another piece of his pride ripped apart. Tae threw his phone aside and let out a frustrated scream. It was useless.
What if I didn't talk to her? he thought suddenly. What if I hadn't gotten close?
The "what ifs" haunted him, but deep down, he knew it wouldn't have mattered. Jiwon would've found someone else. She would've still gone for Minho. Strength was the key, and Tae had none of it. He needed it. He had to have it.
There was only one way to escape.
Tae closed his eyes, his breath slowing as a plan formed in his mind. He couldn't stay in Korea. Not with this. The entire school—no, the entire city—would know what had happened. The video would spread like wildfire. It didn't matter how far he ran; it would follow him. His only choice was to leave. To start over.
He opened his eyes and looked toward his window, his gaze distant. England. His grandfather lived there, in London. Tae had learned English over the years, and he knew enough to get by. He could go there. He could disappear. No one would know who he was. No one would know the person he used to be. It would be a fresh start. A new life. A chance to be someone different, someone stronger.
It was his only shot.
With a sharp inhale, Tae stood up and walked downstairs. His heart was heavy, but his mind was set.
His mother was in the kitchen, the soft hum of the radio filling the silence. When she saw him, she raised an eyebrow. Tae stood still for a moment, unsure of how to begin.
"I want to go to London," he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside of him.
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to process his words.
"London?" she repeated, as though the suggestion were absurd. But Tae could hear the flicker of something in her voice—an eagerness, hidden beneath the surface.
"Yes," Tae said, more firmly now.
"I want to live with Grandpa. I can leave as soon as possible. Please... book the flight."
His mother's expression didn't change, but there was a spark in her eyes, something Tae couldn't quite place. She stared at him for a long moment before she spoke, her tone softer than usual.
"Thats a surprise but I guess you want to take your education to the next level?Fine. I'll book it right now. You'll leave as soon as I arrange everything. I'll hire someone to take you to the airport."
Tae didn't notice the smile creeping onto her face, her lips twitching with something like relief. It was almost as if she had been waiting for this moment.
Tae didn't care.
All he cared about was getting out of here.
"Thank you," he whispered, turning to leave the room.
His mother didn't respond, but as Tae stepped away, he heard her murmur under her breath, "It's for the best, maybe he'll meet him there."
Tae woke up to the soft hum of the airplane, the stillness of the early morning sky outside his window. It was calm. Peaceful. A far cry from the chaos he had left behind. The clouds stretched endlessly, a serene gray, and the sun had only just begun to rise, casting a faint glow over the horizon. His phone was off, tucked away in his bag—far from the drama and humiliation that had plagued him for so long. It was all so distant now, like a bad dream he had woken up from.
The man in the black suit, who had been assigned to escort him, stood by the door of the plane. He was tall, with a large frame that spoke of power. His short black hair was neatly styled, and his dark sunglasses hid his eyes, adding an air of mystery. Tae couldn't help but notice the man's cold demeanor—like someone who was here only to do his job and nothing more. He wasn't there to talk, and Tae wasn't about to start a conversation either. The man guided him off the plane and into a waiting black car.
As they drove through the city streets of London, Tae couldn't help but feel a sense of finality. This was it. His reset. His fresh start. He had deleted all of his social media accounts before the flight, knowing full well they would be filled with nothing but humiliation and mockery. It wasn't worth keeping, not when it only served to remind him of what he had been. Let it go, he told himself. Just move on.
He sat quietly, watching the city go by as they drove toward his grandfather's house. The car was silent, save for the sound of the rain softly tapping against the windows. It felt as though the world was washing away all the dirt and shame from his life in Korea. His old life felt like a distant memory, fading with every mile.
After what felt like an eternity, the car finally came to a stop in a small, quiet neighborhood. This was his new life now.
He stepped out of the car, his suitcase feeling heavier than it should. The rain, light as it was, chilled him to the bone, and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself, looking up at the house. So this is my reset button, he thought bitterly, but the words felt almost comforting in their own way.
The house was a bit smaller than his own back in Korea, modest and unassuming. It didn't matter. It was a place to start over, to leave everything behind. He was starting fresh. That's what mattered. Right?
Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell, the sound echoing in the quiet morning air. He stood there, staring at the door, unsure of what to expect. His heart raced, his nerves bubbling up again. He hadn't seen his grandfather since he was four, back when his dad was still around. Now, at almost sixteen, the memory was a foggy blur. He was about to meet a stranger, and the thought made his stomach twist.
Ding Dong.
The door creaked open, and for a split second, Tae's heart stopped. The figure that appeared in the doorway seemed like a demon, its silhouette dark and menacing, and for just a moment, his mind flashed back to all the fear he had felt before.
But as the door opened fully, Tae saw that it was only an old man. He was shorter than Tae expected, with a thin, worn face and a gentle, if somewhat reserved, smile. His hair was grey, and the years had been kind to him—his wrinkles were soft, not harsh, Tae also noticed a strange chain that he was wearing on his neck. He didn't seem overjoyed, but there was no anger in his eyes either. It was almost as if he was waiting, patiently, for this moment.
"Ah, Tae," the man said, his voice low and calm, "It's been a long time."
Tae, still feeling the pangs of his earlier trauma, shook it off and tried to compose himself. It's just the stress, he thought, Just your brain messing with you.
"Grandfather," he replied, his voice soft, as if testing the words in his mouth. The old man stepped aside to let him in, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Come in, come in," his grandfather said, gesturing toward the small living room. "I'll show you around."
Tae followed him inside, his eyes scanning the room. It was cozy, simple, and nothing like the lavishness of his old home. It was clean, with old furniture and small decorations that spoke of a simpler life. As they walked through the house, his grandfather spoke of how London had changed over the years, about how things were quieter now, a little more peaceful.
Tae responded with short answers, his voice quiet. "Thank you." "Oh, I see." "Yeah."
He noticed, though, as they passed the kitchen, that his grandfather was missing one finger in his left hand. It made Tae pause for a moment. He didn't ask about it, but his mind began to wander, thinking about how difficult it could have been for him. His grandfather had likely lived through struggles, something that Tae could now relate to on a deeper level. He couldn't help but feel a small sense of sympathy, wondering how his grandfather had adjusted to life with such a handicap.
Finally, after what felt like a tour of a life he would never truly understand, Tae was led to a small room at the back of the house. It was simple, but it was his. A bed, a desk, and a small window looking out at the rain-soaked street. His grandfather told him to make himself at home, and with a soft smile, he left the room.
Tae stood there for a moment, the weight of everything finally hitting him. The soreness from his humiliation back in Korea seemed to fade, but the thoughts were still there, lingering just beneath the surface. He sat on the edge of the bed, his mind spinning, but then he did something he hadn't done in a long time. He checked his phone.
No messages. No notifications. Nothing from his past. There were no videos. No humiliating comments. Just a blank screen, untouched by the chaos of his old life.
Tae let out a long breath. This was his new beginning. No one knew who he was here. No one would know the failures he had left behind. He was free.
He lay back on the bed, his hands resting behind his head. A small, genuine smile crept onto his face.
"You know," he whispered to himself, "I don't need to be strong. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I can just... be."
For the first time, he felt the weight of his past lift, just a little. He wasn't the most powerful. He wasn't the most popular. But in this moment, he didn't need to be. He could be anyone. He could fade into the background and live without fear.
"Thank you, mother," he murmured, the words escaping his lips as a quiet gratitude.
But little did Tae know, the harshness of London was about to reveal itself in ways he could never have prepared for...