Chapter 2: Behind the School Gates

The school bell rang with a shrill cry as Y/N stepped inside the campus. The sun had just risen, and already the corridors were buzzing with energy—students laughing, teachers hurrying to their classes, the faint smell of chalk and ink drifting through the air.

But for Y/N, it wasn’t excitement she felt. It was dread.

She walked through the halls, head low, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly. Her shoes tapped against the polished floor with hesitant steps, almost as if she was walking into a battlefield.

Whispers followed her like shadows.

“Hey, mafia brat’s here.”

“She probably paid to pass her last test.”

“Do you think she has a gun in her bag?”

“I bet her brothers kill people for fun.”

The words were knives. And though Y/N had grown used to the stabs, they still cut deep. She didn’t know how the rumors started—maybe someone had overheard her driver mention “boss,” maybe someone’s parent had seen one of her brothers on TV. But ever since that day in fifth grade, her classmates treated her like she was a criminal in training.

She wasn’t. She didn’t even like violence. Loud noises made her flinch. But none of that mattered to them.

She entered her classroom and quietly took the last seat by the window. The desk was scratched with graffiti, old chewing gum stuck underneath, as if even the furniture knew she was an outcast.

“Move,” a voice snapped beside her.

Y/N looked up. It was Minsol—the class queen bee. Rich, pretty, mean. She was followed by her two sidekicks, Rina and Jaehee, who giggled behind her like trained parrots.

“I said move,” Minsol repeated, now louder.

“But this is my seat—” Y/N began.

Minsol rolled her eyes. “Do I look like I care, trash?”

Before she could react, Minsol dumped her books on the floor. The entire class went quiet for a moment, then burst into soft laughter.

Y/N knelt quickly to pick them up. Her math book had torn slightly. Her notes were smudged.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. Crying never helped. It only made things worse.

During the first period, Mr. Choi handed out last week’s math tests. Y/N’s hands trembled as she unfolded the paper.

63/100.

Her heart dropped.

“Y/N,” Mr. Choi called, voice sharp, “what is this? Didn’t your brothers get you a tutor? Or are you too busy being a mafia princess to care about school?”

The class laughed again. Even the teacher didn’t like her.

She forced a smile and mumbled, “I’ll do better next time.”

“Don’t bother,” he said, waving her off.

During break, she tried to find a quiet spot to eat, but her lunch had already disappeared from her locker—again. All that was left was a sticky note:

“Go eat your dirty money.”

She sighed and walked out to the courtyard with her empty lunchbox. On the way, she bumped into someone—Minjun, one of the boys from her class. Her books fell again.

“Oh no, did I hurt the mafia baby?” he mocked. “Gonna call your killer brothers on me?”

He stepped on her notebook before walking away, crushing it under his heel.

Y/N picked it up slowly. The pages were smudged with dirt, the spine broken. She hugged it close to her chest and walked on.

No one ever stood up for her.

And the worst part?

She never told anyone. Not her brothers. Not the maids. Not even herself, sometimes. She just bottled it all up. Every push, every insult, every stolen lunch. She carried it like armor, because deep down, she believed—

Maybe it really was her fault.

Maybe she really was a disappointment.

After school, she sat in the car quietly, staring out of the window.

“Rough day, Miss Y/N?” Mr. Han asked gently.

She nodded once.

“Did you eat?”

“No.”

He reached over and handed her a small chocolate bar. “Don’t tell your brothers. Just eat something, okay?”

Her eyes softened. She took it wordlessly and nibbled on the edge.

At home, she went straight to her room. The math test burned in her bag like a bomb waiting to go off.

She considered hiding it. But Jungkook always found out. And when he did…

Last time, he’d thrown her books across the floor. Jimin had yelled. Taehyung had grabbed her wrist so hard she had a bruise.

She knew what was coming.

Still, she opened her bag and took it out. Quiet steps walked down the hallway toward the study room where they were all discussing mafia business.

She hesitated at the door, then knocked lightly.

“Come in,” Namjoon called.

She opened the door slowly. Seven pairs of eyes looked up.

She stepped in and held out the test with trembling fingers. “I got my math paper…”

Jungkook snatched it and scanned the score.

“63? Are you kidding me?”

“I tried, I—”

“Shut up!” Jimin barked. “You always have excuses!”

Taehyung stood up, angry. “Do you think we work this hard so you can fail basic tests?”

“Go kneel in the hallway,” Jin said coldly.

“Hyung—”

“I said go.”

So she did.

She knelt on the cold marble floor, her knees screaming in pain. Her hands trembled in her lap.

None of them looked back.

That night, Y/N stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

Her stomach was empty. Her heart even more so.

And somewhere, in the darkness of her room, she whispered a quiet wish:

“I wish I had someone… someone who would listen.”

Little did she know, the universe had heard her.

And soon, everything would begin to change.

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