Whispers Of Regret | Hyunlix

Désespoir - Despair

Le désespoir est le prix que l'on paie pour être conscient.

Translation: "Despair is the price one pays for being conscious"

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Caution: This content includes portrayals of bullying and physical abuse that may be upsetting to some readers. If you feel uncomfortable, please feel free to skip over those sections.

Amidst the bustling school hallway, where typically the sound of footsteps and conversations filled the air, a darker scene unfolded. In the center, a lone figure, a girl with flowing black hair, stood encircled by a jeering crowd. Rotten eggs and ripe tomatoes flew through the air, finding their mark on her expensive uniform. The pristine white of her shirt now marred by streaks of red and yellow slime, dripping down her face and hair.

Driven by a shared sense of unity, the students took delight in their torment of the newcomer. They mocked and taunted, their laughter echoing off the walls like a chorus. At the center of it all, Harin and her friends stood casually, their disdainful gazes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. Sipping on her drink, the brown haired girl tilted her head with one hand casually tucked in her sweatshirt, observing as the girl bore the brunt of their ridicule.

Draped in her designer sweatshirt, Harin exuded an aura of arrogance, her gaze never leaving the girl in the middle. "You actually look kind of cute like that," she remarked, her words laced with malice disguised as innocence.

The students gathered around stifled a laugh. Hyeji couldn't help but interject, gasping mockingly as she covered her mouth. "Wait- don't tell me you're sad about your ruined uniform," she taunted, eliciting a chuckle from her friends. Bora, the pink-haired girl, chimed in with a playful slap on Hyeji's arm. "Come on, don't joke like that. She can always get another one," she said, shooting a glance at Aera.

A dark chuckle escaped Aera's lips, surprising the group. "It must be fun for y'all to trample on poor kids like me, showing off your money and acting all filthy," she retorted, raising her head defiantly as she glared at her tormentors.

But the crowd wasn't swayed. One of the boys spoke up, his voice filled with arrogance. "Oh well, it's kind of satisfying, but trust me, Harin doesn't treat anyone badly without a reason. And if she does, you must've done something to irk her badly! And we don't need filth in this school," he declared, drawing cheers and whistles from his peers.

As Harin nonchalantly tossed the empty packet towards the black-haired girl, she sauntered closer, her expression tinged with a mix of indifference and defiance. "He's got a point," she began, her voice carrying a casual air. "I don't make a habit of bullying anyone. And frankly, we're not all about the money like you seem to think. Whether someone's got a fat wallet or an empty one doesn't make a difference to us."

With each step, Harin's words carried a weight of truth, challenging the notion of wealth defining worth. "But it's crystal clear that it matters a whole lot to you," she continued, her tone tinged with a hint of accusation. "Why else do you always bring money into every conversation? You think that's the only reason we'd pick on you? Nah! Take a moment to think. There's gotta be something else about you that just doesn't sit right with me."

As the tension hung in the air, Harin's gaze pierced through the facade of innocence. "And enough with the jealousy act, alright?" she added, her words cutting through the silence. "It's not our fault your parents didn't work hard enough to make you wealthy. And it's certainly not our fault we were born into privilege, even though we're grateful for the blessings bestowed upon us. We also extend a helping hand to those in need-unlike you."