The Strings She Pulls

Chapter 2: The First Thread

The classroom was too quiet.

Not in the comforting way, where silence meant focus, but in the kind that felt like a trap.

Woo Seulgi sat near the back, her hands resting lightly on her desk as the teacher droned on about economic policies. Around her, the students looked effortlessly at ease—some listening, others idly scrolling through their tablets, their pens tapping against notebooks that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

Nobody acknowledged her.

That should've been a relief.

Instead, it felt like standing in the middle of an empty street before a storm—a momentary calm before something worse.

She wasn't naïve. She knew how places like this worked. The invisibility they granted her now wasn't mercy; it was just their way of deciding whether she was worth their time. And when the moment came—when someone finally got bored enough—they would make sure she regretted being here.

The first note hit her desk before lunchtime.

A small, neatly folded piece of paper passed down the rows with practiced ease.

Seulgi didn't react at first. She stared at it, the delicate white square sitting atop her textbook, before carefully unfolding it.

Inside, a single line was scrawled in elegant handwriting:

"Try not to embarrass yourself."

A sharp, bitter laugh almost slipped past her lips. She crushed the paper in her palm and slid it into her pocket.

They'd have to do better than that.

By the time the lunch bell rang, the storm had arrived.

It started small.

A deliberate nudge as she walked through the crowded hallway, just enough force to make her stumble. A few girls laughed behind perfectly manicured hands.

Then, as she entered the cafeteria, a voice carried over the noise—just loud enough for her to hear:

"Does she even have money for lunch?"

More laughter.

Seulgi ignored them. She had no interest in playing whatever game they were trying to start. She focused on getting food—a simple meal, the cheapest on the menu—before scanning the cafeteria for a seat.

Everywhere she looked, students sat in carefully formed groups. Wealth and status determined their placements like an unspoken caste system. The thought of sitting alone didn't bother her, but finding an empty table was impossible.

Her grip tightened on her tray.

She turned toward the staircase at the side of the cafeteria—a quieter corner, away from the crowd. She was almost there when a foot suddenly appeared in her path.

Seulgi barely had time to react before she tripped.

Her tray hit the floor with a sharp clatter. The bowl of rice tipped over, spilling onto her uniform, staining the already worn fabric.

Laughter erupted around her.

She pushed herself up slowly, ignoring the sting in her palm from where she had caught herself.

The girl responsible—the same one from this morning, the one with the designer bracelet and a voice dipped in sugar-coated cruelty—smirked down at her.

"Ah, my bad," she said, tilting her head like she actually expected Seulgi to believe her. "You should really watch where you're going."

Seulgi exhaled through her nose.