I used to think I was just an ordinary person—nothing special, nothing unique. But maybe that's the lie we all tell ourselves. Deep down, we all want to matter. We all want to be seen.
After washing up and putting on my school uniform, I headed out.
I arrived at school—by bus—which was, for the most part, a normal school with no special circumstances.
As I entered, I noticed something unusual: many students were absent, which was rare here.
I was somewhat surprised, but it didn't really matter to me. I walked to my seat, sat down, and laid my head on the desk, waiting for class to start—and for the school day to end, like always. But then I remembered something.
My friends and I had been getting harassed by a group of classmates. They always said awful things to us, and we never responded or fought back. But today, I'd had enough. Seeing that his friends were absent and he was the only one around, I realized this might be the perfect chance.
When the last class ended and most of the students had left, I approached Jon, the bully.
"I have something to talk to you about," I said in a serious tone, wearing a confident expression.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue. "Hurry it up, pipsqueak. I can't waste my precious time on a nobody like you."
A slight frown crossed my face when I heard that.
I thought I'd be able to take him down myself. I wasn't completely weak; I had trained and practiced with various tools.
I grabbed his shirt with my hand and said, "Leave us alone and we won't bother you anymore."
Hearing that, he chuckled with an ugly smile on his face.
"You actually think you can beat me by yourself?" he scoffed, then furrowed his brows. "And why would you say 'leave us alone'? I don't need that kind of crap from you."
He pushed me back as he continued insulting me, forcing me to release my grip on his shirt.
Thrown off by his reaction, I grew angry. I charged at him, trying to punch him in the face—but he easily dodged. I was wide open. He took his chance and kicked me.
I fell to the ground. As I tried to get back up, he kicked me again. And again. Over and over—until I couldn't stand.
He laughed at me, ridiculed me, and humiliated me while I lay on the floor, unable to do anything.
"Next time, think twice before fighting people, loser," he said after finishing his one-sided beating.
It showed me how weak I really was, how I wasn't as strong or special as I thought. If I were, I would've beaten him.
Despite the fight, I wasn't left with many bruises or scars—just a nosebleed and some stomach pain.
Two people rushed into the classroom and helped me up. They were dear to me—my friends.
I was devastated, but at the very least, I had them: Rin and Alin. They were there for me.
"Dude, I told you not to do anything about it. We could've just kept quiet and let them say whatever," Alin said, while Rin nodded beside him.
I turned to him and replied, "I won't let them speak badly about you or anyone else."
"You guys are precious to me," I muttered.
Hearing that, Alin hugged me. He spoke with a happy but serious expression. "We're grateful," he said, pausing before continuing. "But we don't want you getting hurt, either."
Rin agreed, wearing a grateful look on his face. "Yeah... and next time, at least tell us. We could help. We're best friends, after all."
"I'm not used to you being sentimental, Rin," I said with a tired smile.
"Shut up," he replied.
We all shared a smile. Since it was the end of the day, we decided to go somewhere together—to move on from what had happened.
I felt happy for a moment, but I couldn't forget the humiliation I'd gone through. Jon's words had struck me hard. They shattered the way I saw myself and reminded me just how helpless I was.
We spent some time outside. Before I realized it, the sun had already started to set. I had to head home.
"I'll see you both soon," I said, watching my friends wave to me as I started walking away.
"Don't forget—we're always here for you," Rin called after me.
As I walked home, I remembered Naomi.
She was one of my close friends—someone I'd loved for some time now. I adored her long blackish-purple hair and deep, dark-blue eyes you could stare into forever.
But she was one of the students who had been absent today. Naomi usually came to school every day. Her absence had surprised me, and I was upset that I didn't get to see her—but at the same time, I was glad she hadn't witnessed my humiliation.
Still thinking about her, I arrived at my house. The moment I got back, I went straight to bed to rest after the awful day I'd had—but it wasn't over yet.
After napping for a while, my dad woke me up for dinner.
My parents had divorced when I was young, and my siblings and I had parted ways. I stayed with my father. My brother and sister had gone with my mother. I could understand why—but at the time, I had been too young to realize anything.
I always wondered why they separated. Seeing my friends with their happy families made me jealous. My family was living overseas—or rather, we were. So I never had a chance to meet them again.
I often wondered what had gone wrong between them. They were my parents. I deserved to know. But my father's temper was unpredictable. Even so, my curiosity kept pushing me to ask—despite his cold, dismissive responses.
Once, while we were out, I asked him: "Why did you and Mom separate? I really wish I could meet my mom and siblings."
He looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Stop asking that dumb question over and over. It doesn't concern you."
"How doesn't it concern me?! It's my family," I replied, my tone growing more expressive.
He answered more sternly this time. "I said stop asking."
And so, I swallowed my feelings and dropped the subject—for a while.
I had always seen my father as a kind, respectable man. I adored him deeply. That evening, when he woke me up and we sat down for dinner, he seemed to be in a good mood.
I thought maybe it was a good time to ask again. I raised my head and looked at him.
"Dad... can you please tell me what happened between you and Mom?"
He ignored me, not even glancing in my direction.
I kept asking, pushing. "What happened? Why won't you tell me? I want to know more about my mother and siblings. I deserve to know."
He still didn't respond.
I grew irritated. "I can see why you got divorced—probably because of this attitude of yours."
Suddenly, he stood up from his chair and told me to shut my mouth.
"Why? They're my family too!" I said seriously.
I was lost in my thoughts, driven by curiosity, and hadn't even noticed how furious he looked.
Then he stepped closer, fists clenched.
"I told you to stop!" he shouted.
"I don't care! I want to know! I don't want to stay ignorant forever!"
Then, out of nowhere, he punched me in the face, screaming at me.
I was too shocked to move. My nose started bleeding. I was in a lot of pain. "Dad...?"
He pushed me to the floor, pinned me down on my stomach, and kept hitting me as he shouted:
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?! IS IT?! I DIDN'T TELL YOU FOR YOUR OWN SAKE, DAMN IT!"
He unleashed years of bottled-up rage. I couldn't say anything back. I just begged him to stop—uselessly—thinking it might work. I was in disbelief. This was the father I had admired and loved for so long.
He said everything that had been on his mind—words that cut deeply and broke my heart.
Then, seeing my face covered in blood and bruises, he muttered, "What have you made me do?"
He walked to his room, grabbed a bag I'd never seen before—it looked packed with belongings. He glanced back at me, still lying on the floor.
"I'm sorry, son," he whispered.
Then he left the house.
Lying on the ground, covered in bruises, I smiled. That smile turned into laughter... and that laughter slowly became sobs.
I was hurt, broken. I had just discovered my father's true nature. He was someone I had loved and who had raised me. And just like that, the last tie to my family was severed. After everything at school and now at home, I was left completely alone and devastated.
I covered my eyes with my arm, trying to hide my tears. Clenching my fists, I muttered, "Even standing hurts... How pathetic."
I got up and washed the blood off my face, tending to my bruises. I would never learn the truth about the divorce. I would never see my siblings or my mother.
"What should I even do? Where should I go?" I thought. My father had left me, and probably wasn't coming back. He left money—but what good was that if I wasn't happy?
It was a windy night. I could hear the trees rustling in the wind. I felt suffocated in the house, so I decided to go outside and clear my head.
I stepped out, locked the door behind me, and started walking. I felt empty—tired to the point where even walking felt hard.
Each step made my chest ache more. I kept my head down, passing by strangers without even glancing up. I was thinking about how desperate I looked, how foolish, how reckless I'd been. I shouldn't have rushed him for the truth—but it was too late now.
Then, I heard the sound of flowing water. I looked up and saw a beautiful river surrounded by green fields and trees.
I thought I'd go there and lie down for a bit—to calm myself and find a moment of peace after all that had happened.
I walked closer, chest still aching, eyes still watery. I couldn't forget everything that had just occurred.
Finally, I reached the river. I lay down on my back and stared up at the starry night sky.
I closed my eyes...
And the moment I did, I felt something strange. A warm light surrounded me. My body felt lighter—weightless.
Then, everything turned dark.
When I opened my eyes again...
The sky above me wasn't the same. I was no longer beside the river. I was standing in the middle of an unfamiliar forest—under two glowing moons.
"What... is this?" I whispered.
I had been transported.
To another world