The clock ticked too loudly in the classroom. The lights hummed like they're part of some cruel experiment, and the air smelled faintly of chalk and metal. I sat at my desk, staring blankly , counting the stripes , blue stripes . I don't know the reason but I was told my position changed and now I had to sit in the second row . Then I took out my books , maybe if I forced myself to study I would shut down those thoughts that kept on tormenting me because again , no matter how hard I thought about it… none of this makes any sense.
The more I tried to piece things together — my brother's disappearance, the strange behavior of the students, that ranking system , those cameras in every corner of the school , capturing every movement ready to film the worst fights and display them on that damn app — the less it all fits. It's like trying to solve a puzzle that kept changing shape the moment I looked away.
And then, out of nowhere, a voice cut through my thoughts.
"I can explain."
I turned my back , lifted my head a little higher, startled.
There , next to my desk , stood Zion – Rank 12 ; tall, effortlessly confident, with hair that looks like it's never known gravity. His uniform's undone just enough to make it look intentional.
Before I could even respond, he leaned closer — too close — his grin sharp and bright.
"Oh!" he blurted, suddenly stepping back ."Right, I forgot to introduce myself."
He ran a hand through his hair and, I kid you not, struck a full-on pose like he was auditioning for a fashion magazine. "I'm Zion," he said, smiling like he was doing me a favor. "And I can answer any of your questions because I'm basically ..." he tilted his head just slightly, "... living proof that beauty and brains can coexist."
And for a few seconds , I just stared at him . And he just stood there frozen.
This guy's unbelievably full of himself.
A minute almost passed and he was still posing, moving from one angle to the next like he's waiting for a camera flash that never came. I could feel my soul slowly leaving my body.
Why is he still posing? God…
He noticed me watching and smirked as if he was amused by my confused expressions . "So, how do I put this…" he started , still maintaining some ridiculous stance :
"Basically, this school is like a fight club. Once you enroll, your rank automatically shows up in the school's app . Every fight either keeps your rank — if you already outrank your opponent — or you steal theirs if they're above you . And the loser…" He paused, smiling wider. "…has to pay money . The amount equals the difference between your ranks, with six zeros added to the right ..."
I cut him off. "Wait . Pay to whom?"
His gaze locked forward , features sharpened as the soft edges of his expression suddenly carved into focus " Me ".
Just two letters, yet they sent a chill coursing through me. In an instant I thought , was he truly the one orchestrating this chaos? Could that bright, carefree smile conceal the architect of such a ruthless order?"
I blinked :"…What?"
He burst out laughing, too loud, too nervous : "AHAHAHA—ha—Guess that wasn't funny."
My eyes rose , then settled again , the silence after his words louder than the "joke" itself :
"Yeah , not really ," I said as I let out a faint , awkward laugh that died almost instantly.
"Yeah, not funny at all " another voice joined in . Someone spoke up from behind, their tone casual, as if they'd been listening all along.
I glanced to my side and noticed another student standing nearby — a curtain of silky, violet-tinged hair framed his face, soft as midnight satin, lazy posture, a quiet kind of presence. I let my eyes examine his uniform , his name tag said Cleo – Rank 25 .
I look between them. Who even is this guy?
Zion shrugged, regaining his composure. "Anyway," he said, "no one really knows who we're paying, or who even created the app. It's a kind of a total mystery."
His words hit me harder than I expected. Does this have something to do with my brother?
I swallowed . "And what happens to the ones who don't pay?"
Zion hopped up onto a desk, crossing one leg over the other like he owned the room. "They get a warrant," he said easily. "And then they disappear."
My stomach tightened. "What?!"
"Yep" he answered immediately . "That simple. Their names get wiped from the list… and they just vanish."
Before I could respond, the bell rang, loud and shrill.
The teacher at the front sighed walking in , rubbing his temple with a ruler :
"Zion, back to your seat. I've already had a rough morning at home."
Zion's grin faltered for a moment — just long enough for me to catch a flicker of guilt. Then it's gone.
"Yes, sir" he sang , hopping off the desk . And as he walked by, he tapped my shoulder and gave me a knowing look . I couldn't tell if it was supposed to be friendly or a warning so I gave him a small, automatic smile anyway.
When I finally got home, the quiet hit me like a wall. The door clicked shut behind me, and it felt like the world stopped moving . I dropped my bag in the hallway and kicked off my shoes, the weight of the day pressing down on my chest. The apartment smelled faintly like laundry detergent and old instant coffee.
Was my brother a low-ranker? I thought as I hung up my coat. Even if he was, he could've paid on time… right?
But then again — no one ever saw him after that last semester. And no one ever said why.
None of this makes sense. No anti-violence committee. No teachers trying to stop it. No police. Just a system that rewards fights and punishes the weak.
My phone buzzed, breaking the silence as notifications flooded my screen.
[ Follow request: ZION.
KakaoTalk – Parents: "Darling, hope you're doing well, we miss you …"
School app: "You have an assignment." ]
I groaned , tossing the phone onto the bed. "Oh hell no, I'm not watching this crap again."
In the shower, hot water steamed the mirror, and my thoughts spiraled. I miss my parents . I really do . But I was the one who insisted on finishing school here . Once I find out what happened to my brother… I'm going back to the US . I definitely don't belong here.
When I stepped out, towel around my neck, I checked my phone again — and a single ping made my heart seize , the notification had thrown me completely off guard .
Fine: 10000 Won.
"A fine?! Seriously?!"
I picked an incoming call.
"Hey Mom," I said . "How are you guys?"
Her voice softened immediately :
"We're good, sweetheart. Your dad's still working. How's school?"
I hesitated , I mean I wouldn't tell her how school was actually :
"Well… it's fine, I guess. Don't worry about me — I'm doing great."
"Of course you are," she said warmly. "You've always been such a great young man. …Did you get the money?"
"Yeah, it came through about thirty minutes ago. Thanks."
"We're doing all of this for your happiness and your future," she said. "Just be smart with it, okay? I have to start dinner now. Love you, sweetheart."
"Love you too, Mom."
The call ended. The room feels emptier than before.
I sat on the edge of the bed, cracking open an energy drink. The faint buzz of carbonation filled the silence.
A fight club. A ranking system. Disappearances. Fines.
If my brother went here, his name had to be on the list.
I nearly leapt onto my laptop, fingers fumbling as I opened it , searched through the app's archives — only to find everything wiped clean. No old data, no access logs, no trace.
Whoever built this system surely didn't want anyone digging.
I stared at the reflection of my face on the dark screen. My pulse slowed. My decision felt heavy, final . Even I was frightened by my own mind, by the terrible conclusions I might reach ;
If I can't find the truth from the outside… then I'll fight my way in.
That night, sleep didn't come easily. But when it finally did, it dragged me into something dark . A red room. Blood on the floor. Someone was repeatedly screaming my name :
"Kai! Kai!"
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
"I didn't …"
A masked figure stepped out of the shadows, wearing the same school uniform I wore every day. The voice was low, distant — like it's speaking from the bottom of a well.
"Kai…"
I jolted awake, gasping. My sheets were damp, my heartbeat wild.
The room was swallowed in darkness, the only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator bleeding through the walls. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to slow the rhythm, then I drank a cup of water hoping that could help me separate dream from reality.
But the echo of that voice—Kai!—still clung to me. It felt too real, like someone actually called out from the edge of my consciousness . The air felt heavy, electric, as if the world itself was holding its breath . For a moment, I swear I could feel something tug at the edges of my mind—like someone else, somewhere, just woke up from the same nightmare.
The sensation faded as quickly as it came, leaving only silence.
I laid back down, eyes open, staring at the ceiling until the first light of morning creeped through the blinds.