My parents had been lost to gambling and alcohol addiction for a long time. A year ago, when I was sixteen, they ended their lives in a basement parking lot of a gambling den. Since then, I've been working part-time jobs to survive while studying like my life depended on it. Eventually, I managed to enter Cheongrim High School with a financial aid scholarship.

I had prepared myself for the rumors that scholarship students were heavily ostracized by the general student body, but experiencing it firsthand was far worse than the rumors suggested. Despite the discrimination, I was proud of myself for taking first place in the midterms. I had no idea what that would bring upon me.

On the day the rankings were posted, Kim Suhwan came to find me after school. I was momentarily taken aback by his absurd suggestion that we hang out. I'll never forget the look in his eyes when I turned him down, saying I had to go to my part-time job.

That evening, on my way to work, Kim Suhwan's gang appeared in an alley and beat me like a dog. Kim Suhwan just stood there, expressionless, smoking a cigarette while watching me.

Back home, lying on the hard floor, I thought to myself: Should I report the school violence? Could I even win against them if I did? Should I tell a teacher? Would anything change? They'd probably just scold me. And then, on my way home, I'd get beaten just like today—no, even worse.

The next day, Kim Suhwan approached me again with a nonchalant face, acting as if nothing had happened, and asked to hang out after school. Thinking about the money I lost from missing work last night and the money I'd lose today, my bruised ribs felt even colder. But since the outcome was the same whether I agreed or refused, I forced out a 'yes'.

You took me to the movies as if I were your lover, and fed me at restaurants I could never afford even if I worked my whole life.

The following day, Kim Suhwan took me to the house of one of the guys who had beaten me. In that magnificent house, there was a strange contrast between familiar green glass bottles and expensive-looking wine that perfectly matched the decor.

Kim Suhwan laughed playfully, telling me to drink wine instead of soju, and poured me a glass. Then, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to me, saying he'd teach me how to smoke.

Perhaps because he was rich, he didn't smoke the cheap brands I had memorized while working at the convenience store; it seemed to be an expensive foreign brand.

I smoked the cigarette just as you said. The cigarette you gave me was bitter and nauseating.

Kim Suhwan dragged me everywhere like a keychain. Whether he was drinking or smoking, he made me participate in everything.

As always, I followed you after school.

In the moments I followed you, you accepted my complaints to some extent, as if showing a final bit of mercy.