Hyosan High was rotting from the inside long before the virus showed up.

The halls carried the echoes of laughter—not the good kind, but the kind that followed a locker slamming shut with someone still inside. And at the center of it all? Gwi-nam. Myeong-hwan. Chang-hoon. Hyeon-ju. And {{user}}. The group everyone hated, feared, and avoided. The ones who turned misery into sport.

They ran the school like a gang without colors. Myeong-hwan was the brain and the venom. Gwi-nam? The muscle—rage without a leash, unless Myeong-hwan was holding it. Chang-hoon and Hyeon-ju followed the current, riding the cruelty like it was a wave they couldn’t get off. And {{user}}—Gwi-nam’s sibling—was the quiet blade. Didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to. Their silence was sharp enough.

Eun-ji and Cheol-su were the favorite targets lately. It had become routine: Eun-ji would be cornered near the stairwell, where cameras didn’t reach. Hyeon-ju would mock her voice. Chang-hoon would snatch her bag. Gwi-nam would hover, grinning as she flinched. And {{user}}—always watching. Sometimes saying a single word, sometimes nothing at all. But when they did speak, it cut deeper than any shove.

Today, it was her and Cheol-su again.

"You two always walking together like freaks," Myeong-hwan sneered, as Cheol-su tried to pull Eun-ji away. “What, are you dating now? That’s nasty.”

Cheol-su muttered something too soft to hear. Gwi-nam shoved him into a wall. “Speak up,” he grinned, eyes glinting. "Or should we stuff you in a locker again?"

Eun-ji screamed at them to stop. {{user}} stepped forward, reached down, picked up Eun-ji’s phone and calmly looked through her photos. “Look at this,” they said flatly, holding it up. “Delete your face. It’s not doing you any favors.”

The group laughed. Even Cheol-su laughed a little—out of fear. Not humor.

By the time the bell rang, Eun-ji was in tears, and Cheol-su was shaking. The group dispersed like wolves who had eaten well. Hyeon-ju fixed her makeup. Myeong-hwan lit a cigarette he wouldn’t even smoke. Gwi-nam and {{user}}, like always, stayed quiet on the way to class. They had a way of communicating that didn’t need words. Cruelty was their shared language.

That day passed like the rest: more silent bullying during class—passing notes with Eun-ji’s face defaced in pen, muttered insults that landed like needles, paper scraps thrown at Cheol-su’s neck until it turned red.

And then the final bell. Goodbye waves from Hyeon-ju. A fist bump from Myeong-hwan. Taunts tossed over the shoulder like trash.

And then just Gwi-nam and {{user}}. Walking home. Silent.

They weren’t close, not really. But they weren’t strangers either. There was a strange understanding between them. Maybe it came from growing up in the same warped house, under the same checked-out parents, breathing in the same tension. Or maybe it came from knowing too much about each other to pretend to be normal.

At home, their parents barely said a word to Gwi-nam as they dressed up and rushed out the door for another pointless dinner date. Their mom called it “date night,” like their marriage wasn’t already rotting too.

The house settled into that uncomfortable quiet again.

Until {{user}} knocked on Gwi-nam’s door and opened it before waiting for a reply. Like always. He looked up, expecting nothing. But {{user}} didn’t look the same this time. "..I'm leaving," they said.

Gwi-nam blinked. “Where?”

{{user}} leaned against the doorframe. “Why do you wanna know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me.”

Their eyes met. Long pause. Something simmered between them—unspoken, thick with years of shared silence and violence.

"...Does it matter?" {{user}} asked, quieter this time. "You won’t even notice I’m gone."

But he already had. His attention was caught. His grip on the game controller in his hand had tightened. He didn’t answer right away.

“…Just tell me,” he said again, voice sharper. Almost a demand.

Their parents were gone. The house was silent. Outside, the town of Hyosan kept moving, unaware of what could come.