Days passed, turning into weeks, and weeks into months, and much had transpired in that time. The initial accusations of bias left Hina's reputation in shambles.
And, determined to appear impartial, she distanced herself from Kyorin entirely. Her tone grew curt, her demeanor cold, and her once-gentle presence faded into something foreign.
She failed to notice how her newfound indifference came across—not as professionalism, but as something threatening.
In the eyes of masses, her coldness felt less like neutrality and more like punishment, widening the gap between them.
The classroom, once a fragile harmony, splintered further, divided by murmurs and silent judgments.
Without Hina's support, Kyorin once again found himself at the mercy of his bullies. Her dismissive commands to "shoo" did little to deter them, as they returned later, bolder and more relentless.
But Kyorin was prepared. He no longer required her intervention or relied on futile hopes. Instead, he waited.
Quietly, methodically, he retaliated—not through confrontation but by exploiting their crumbling bodies, inflicting subtle, cumulative damage.
Each move was calculated, a slow poisoning of their extremities and strength.
Meanwhile, Hina struggled to reclaim her footing. As her self-image recovered, she returned to her usual self, but the shift only drew more criticism.
"She's fake," the whispers grew. "This is her true nature." What little image she had rebuilt now painted her as pretentious. Caught in a storm of shifting perceptions, Hina found herself adrift.
Amid the chaos, a group of students emerged with a peculiar dynamic. Unlike others, they didn't criticize her; instead, they claimed to admire her.
From the start, they had looked up to her but didn't know how to express it. Watching Kyorin earn her attention through misdeeds, they began imitating his behavior, mistaking rebellion for recognition.
Their actions, though mischievous rather than malicious, soon spiraled out of control. What started as playful defiance escalated into disruption, leaving Hina frustrated and unsure of how to respond.
Her inability to address their intentions only fueled the growing disorder.
Complaints poured in from other teachers, each one more damning than the last. "Her class is chaotic," they claimed. "She's the reason. The students are a reflection of her inability to lead."
By the time the dean returned, the academy was already in disarray. Though Grandma Tang's presence provided temporary relief, the damage was done. Hina bore the brunt of the blame and was suspended as a consequence.
Back at home, Hina's frustration was unmistakable. Her hands trembled as she clutched a glass of water, the cool surface offering little solace against the storm raging inside her.
Hina paced relentlessly, her footsteps an erratic rhythm on the wooden floor. The dim light of the room cast shadows that danced with her agitation, reflecting the chaos in her mind.
"It's his fault," she whispered, the words searing her throat as they left her lips. "If he hadn't—if he didn't—none of this would've happened."
Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as frustration coursed through her veins. Her eyes, once soft, now gleamed with a sharp, dangerous light.
"They pity him," she hissed into the empty room, her voice quaking with venom. "They all think I'm the villain because of him. He's turned me into the monster in their story."
The glass in her hand trembled under her tightening grip before she set it down with a deliberate motion, her frustration spilling over like water.
Her fist slammed onto the table, the impact reverberating through her arm. The sting in her knuckles was sharp, grounding her fury into something tangible. "But he's the one ruining my life!"
Her thoughts spiraled, logic twisting and snapping under the crushing weight of frustration and despair. She froze mid-pace, her body rigid except for the rise and fall of her chest.
Slowly, a cruel smile crept across her lips, dark and deliberate, as a dangerous determination took root.
"He's the problem," she murmured, her voice low and venomous. "That's it. Then I'll solve it. Permanently."
Her reflection in the window caught her eye, stopping her cold. She stared, her own face now a stranger's—eerily calm, yet her eyes burned with unrelenting madness.
"No one will blame me," she whispered, almost as if convincing herself. "They'll thank me, in their own way. Without him, the class will settle. The rumors will stop. Everything will finally go back to how it's supposed to be."
With each word, her conviction hardened, solidifying like stone encasing her mind. She no longer saw herself as the aggressor, but as the savior of her own reputation. He's the root of the chaos.
One sacrifice for the peace of many—it's logical. Justified.
Her fingers twitched as she imagined the confrontation, the satisfaction of removing the thorn in her side. "I'll make it quick," she whispered, her tone steady, her resolve unshakable. "He won't even see it coming."
"Hehe, that's right. I will kill him."
The words escaped her lips like a venomous promise. Then, as if the weight of her madness overwhelmed her, Hina threw her head back and erupted into hysterical laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Her cackle shattered the stillness of the night, piercing and unsettling. Outside her house, passersby paused, exchanging uneasy glances.
"She's lost it," one muttered before the group hurried on, unwilling—or too afraid—to intervene.
Inside, her laughter subsided, replaced by an eerie calm. Shadows crowded the dimly lit room like silent witnesses as Hina sank into a chair, her trembling hands gripping the armrests.
Her eyes fixed on the window. "Tomorrow," she whispered, her voice hoarse but resolute. "When the sun rises, I'll make everything right. I'll fix it all."
At dawn, she moved with purpose. Walking the familiar road to the school, her steps were steady, her face a blank mask concealing the storm within. Her eyes darted across the empty streets, searching. Waiting.
Then she saw him—Kyorin. He was running again, his breath visible in the frosty morning air as he fled from a group of bullies.
But this time, something was different. Though relentless, the bullies looked worn out, their spite the only force driving them forward.
Kyorin stumbled, his footing faltering as one boy shoved him into the dirt. Before they could strike again, Hina appeared—a sudden, commanding presence descending like a force of nature.
"Enough!" Her voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The bullies froze, their momentum shattered as her shadow loomed over them.
Without hesitation, she pushed them aside with surprising strength, her fury a palpable force. They hesitated, exchanged uncertain glances, and finally retreated, breathless and confused.
Hina turned to Kyorin, her expression unreadable. "You. Follow me," she said coldly, grabbing his cuffs.
Kyorin struggled. But her grip on his sleeve was iron, leaving no room for escape. Forcefully, he was dragged as she led him forward, her steps an echo of approaching death.
They reached the riverbank, where the soft murmur of the water filled the silence. Hina released him, her gaze fixed on the rippling current. Kyorin stepped back cautiously, unease coiling in his stomach.
"Hina-sensei… what is this about?" Kyorin asked, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty etched across his features.
Hina chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Hehe, don't worry, I'm ending both our suffering." But her laughter was cut short as a voice filled with anger echoed through the hallway, shattering the fragile atmosphere.
"Presumptuous bitch, what are you doing?"
A group of villagers emerged from the shadows, their faces twisted with anger and contempt, tears glistening in their eyes.
The air was thick with tension as they approached the riverbank, their collective murmurs rising like a storm.
The scene before them was unsettling—Hina stood motionless by the river, her expression unnervingly calm, while Kyorin appeared cornered and wary, his eyes darting nervously between Hina and the approaching villagers.
They had witnessed everything unfold with unsettling clarity.
Earlier, they had encountered the ten boys. The bullies Hina had shoved earlier lay crumpled on the ground, motionless.
One villager rushed forward to check on them, their face draining of color as they shouted for help. "Someone call for help!" Panic laced their voice, but it was too late.
"She… she pushed us," one boy managed to rasp pointing at the river before his eyes rolled back and his chest fell still.
Over the years, injuries to their extremities and multiple foreign object and fats entering in their bloodstream had clogged it, causing a cardiac arrest.
A trembling hand checked his pulse. Nothing. The boy was gone.
Panic erupted as the villagers scrambled toward the scene. Their eyes darted between Hina and Kyorin, and the thought took root: She is the perpetrator.
Their anger turned into hatred, and they closed in on Hina. "What have you done?" someone demanded, their voice trembling with both fear and fury.
Hina's eyes widened as her composure shattered. She pointed at Kyorin, her finger trembling. "It's him!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation. "He's the devil! He ruined my life!"
"Please, listen to me!" Hina cried, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "I can explain everything. This wasn't supposed to end like this!"
The villagers recoiled at her wild gestures and frantic cries. One man stepped forward cautiously, but she lashed out, her hands clawing like a feral animal.
"Stop her!" someone shouted. The villagers surged forward, pinning her to the ground. Even as they subdued her, Hina refused to release Kyorin's sleeve, her screams tearing through the air.
"He's a devil!" she screeched, her voice hoarse and frenzied. "A devil sent to destroy me! You're all blind! Blind!"
The villagers stepped back, horrified by the madness in her eyes. One muttered, "She's gone mad." Another whispered, "She's cursed. A witch."
Fear and ignorance ignited the crowd. A stone flew, striking her shoulder. Hina didn't flinch. More stones followed, their anger and terror consuming them.
As Hina's cries began to wane. Kyorin, the true orchestrator of it all, stood silently amidst the chaos.
Though his expression was weary, a faint flicker of satisfaction glimmered in his eyes. 'So this is the blindness of society... presumptive judgment,' he mused inwardly.
He remained motionless, wide-eyed, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to move or speak. The sun climbed higher, casting its golden light over the riverbank, now tainted with blood.
By midday, the crowd had dispersed, but news of Hina's death—and the ten children—spread rapidly.
The village was consumed by mourning, torn between grief for the young lives lost and confusion over what truly transpired. Some wept, others prayed, their whispers heavy with pity and sorrow.
Amid it all, Kyorin stood, regarded as the lone surviving victim. Yet he felt nothing—no guilt, no remorse. His moonlit eyes wandered toward the place where the river was, its surface reflecting the fading light of day.
The golden sunlight danced across the gentle current, carrying with it the haunting reflection of Hina's lifeless body—a wuthering reminder of the woman she once was.
To be continued...
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A/N: Hey! I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the recent chapters and share some thoughts with you all.
My focus has been on portraying Kyorin's journey of integrating into society—a critical part of his development as he learns to adapt and understand societal expectations.
However, as my exams approached, my thoughts and energy scattered. The pressure I felt seeped into my writing, and I realized that my chapters were influenced by the turmoil in my mind.
While I aimed to highlight Kyorin's navigation of society, my own stress may have affected the clarity and quality of the storytelling.
After some reflection, I've decided to step back and prioritize my exams. Since they'll last a month or two, I think it's best to avoid writing entirely during this time.
This break will allow me to return with a fresh perspective and deliver chapters that meet the standards you all deserve.
Excitingly, a significant power-up is on the horizon! The next set of chapters will align closely with Kyorin's ultimate goal as he begins his journey toward ascension and immortality.
Also, with this chapter, Kyorin has earned the title of "The Victim" in the eyes of others. Well, at least there is a title now.
Thank you for your patience and understanding during this time. I truly appreciate your support, and I promise to come back stronger, with chapters that reflect both my vision and Kyorin's journey as intended.
Until then, wish me luck on my exams! I look forward to returning with a clearer mind and an even better story to share!