Even after six years of living here, his morning ritual as a dormitory resident at Special Proctor Gildas Junior High School remained unchanged.
The sun had yet to fully rise. Leaving the lower world of Sylvaine Macarena shrouded in darkness. Yet, Hanasta was already awake. Sitting in the shadowy corner of one of the dorm rooms designated for working-class students.
The hard floor beneath him served as his bed, while a thin blanket provided the only protection against the biting cold of the night—his sole companions in endurance.
The other students were still asleep, lost in sweet dreams on their comfortable beds. Meanwhile, as Hanasta glanced at his own bed, he could only let out a silent sigh.
He sat on the edge of the bed, deep in thought as he surveyed his surroundings. "Once we enter high school, every student will have their own room. Everything should be fine until then."
One thing was certain—he had already resolved never to lose in this game. No matter what happened, Hanasta was no damsel in distress waiting to be rescued by a hero, a prince, or anything of the sort, like the fairy tales of the old universe.
No, he was more than that. Even as pain throbbed through his body, his bruises a painful testament to the actions of his dormmates, he would simply rise again, hiding all his wounds from the world.
"I should take a shower first," he muttered, pushing himself up. He headed toward the shared bathroom in the dormitory room occupied by five students.
"It's worse than I thought," he murmured upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. Dark bruises and dried blood marred the skin beneath his eyes.
Gripping the edge of the sink tightly, he fought against the flood of memories from the night before, trying to keep them from resurfacing.
*
Even though he was in his final year, the transition from the more relaxed life of elementary school to the academic pressures of junior high sometimes felt like an ongoing natural jet lag.
Especially since at school he comes from a different class than all the residents of the working-class student dormitory. Making it impossible for him to return at the same time as them.
And that night, it had happened again.
"Hahh…" Hanasta let out a short sigh as he saw his bed covered in trash and filth. A mix of foul-smelling liquids had seeped through the sheets into the mattress. There was no way he could just ignore it.
It was already late, and he was far too exhausted to clean up the mess.
Without making a sound, he changed his clothes, occasionally glancing at the four other boys sleeping peacefully in their beds. He had no idea who was responsible.
Creak. The door suddenly swung open, revealing several dorm residents wearing masks to conceal their identities.
Heh, I already know exactly who you are, Hanasta thought, swallowing hard as he braced himself.
"You finally came back," one of them said. It was impossible to tell which, given the dim lighting in the room.
"Sorry, unlike you jobless fools, elite-class students are very busy," he retorted with biting sarcasm.
"Someone like you has no place here!" another voice snapped. This time, it was a different tone.
Then, as if rehearsed, the four teenagers moved closer, their voices merging into a single command:
"Get him!!!"
They didn't care about the other students sleeping in the room. The commotion they created was something no one would step in to stop.
As if suffering and hostility were simply his inevitable fate—the only anomaly to have ever attended this school since its founding.
THUD SMACK THUD THUD SMACK.
Blow after brutal blow rained down mercilessly on his already exhausted body, creating loud, echoing noises. Hanasta was certain the racket would wake up the others in the room.
Yet, no one moved.
"No matter what, we won't let you have peace in this school," one of them sneered, grabbing a fistful of Hanasta's deep Azul Marino hair and yanking it upward.
"If only I were as dumb as you, my life might be easier," the fourteen-year-old shot back with a sarcastic smirk before spitting at his attackers. Ptui!
It only made his suffering last longer that night.
But it didn't matter.
Being ganged up on by people like them felt no different than being pinched by toddlers. He had long since forgotten what real pain felt like.
Life in the slum area had been far harsher. He could no longer be surprised by things like this.
The only difference now was the perpetrators.
Proving that, when consumed by hatred and desire, all humans would ultimately become the same—no matter where they came from.
*
"Are you okay?"
A voice greeted him as he stepped out of the bathroom.
His roommate stood by the door, watching him.
Expressionless and indifferent, Hanasta didn't respond.
Instead, he walked back into the room, a towel loosely wrapped around his lower body, clearly displaying the marks of the previous night's brutality on his pale skin.
The sky was still dark. The boy followed him inside.
The spacious room lacked partitions, with each student's space marked only by their individual desks and wardrobes. Hanasta was about to put on his uniform in front of his wardrobes when the other student spoke again.
"Do you really have to get ready this early? It's not even three yet."
"Georgiy, you already know what happens if I move at the same time as the others in this dorm," he replied flatly.
Even though Georgiy never bullied him directly like the others, he also never defended him when things got bad.
It had happened so many times that Hanasta no longer bothered thinking about it.
"I heard even the Tidsears refuse to do anything about it," Georgiy continued.
"They gain nothing from protecting a student from the slum area," Hanasta replied as he finished buttoning up his long-sleeved shirt—part of his uniform, along with dark gray trousers. The fabric was already worn and slightly damaged in some areas.
"You're the top student in the elite class, yet you get treated like garbage in the dorm. Are you really okay with that?" Georgiy asked.
"It's not like I have any other choice."
Hanasta paused for a moment after fastening the final button.
"I have to do everything I can to rise from this powerless position."
"I know you have another plan, Hanasta," Georgiy said, his tone pointed.
"What do you mean?" Hanasta turned to face him.
Georgiy gestured for him to follow.
Out in the quiet dorm hallway, he leaned in and whispered into Hanasta's ear,
"Not just me. Everyone already knows."
"Knows what?" Hanasta asked, maintaining his composure.
He had been so focused on his studies lately that he had neglected to monitor the social interactions between students.
Everything needed to be perfect.
For his plan.
Georgiy leaned even closer, whispering,
"You're actually a spy for an extremist organization outside the walls, aren't you?"
Thud.
For a split second, Hanasta froze.
What?!
His eyes widened in shock. Reflexively, he grabbed Georgiy's head and slammed him against the wall.
THUD!
"Who the hell started that rumor?!" Hanasta demanded.
His face had gone pale, but his gaze was razor-sharp.