There was nothing extraordinary about the young man standing at the gate, staring up at the school name pressed deep into the stone arch overhead.  His breath puffed in sharp little clouds, fall passing into winter.  His gaze never wavered as he contemplated the difficulties of such a late transfer to a new school.  The stark building loomed in the distance, up a graveled drive lined with neat landscaping and the occasional broad, feathery-leafed tree rising in stokes of charcoal with the early-morning light.   The boy adjusted the strap of his book bag with a certain resigned determination, taking a moment to tug his navy uniform jacket straight at the hem, ensure his striped tie was centered just so, made sure that his collar was buttoned correctly, and his cuffs lay tight and crisp against his wrists.  He tried his best to brush drooping auburn locks to the side and out of his eyes.

Right, he thought, his eyes.  He flipped open a pocket on the side of the leather and canvas bag, withdrew a chunky pair of glasses and slipped them on.   Preparations complete, he stepped into his first day as Lee Jinki, Chasung Academy honor student.

By lunch of the first day, his place in the school hierarchy was established.  Nerd.  Weak, but smart.  Rumors were moving at the speed of digital communication, which is to say almost instantaneously, as texts shot back and forth from class to class. 

Male consensus: Not worth the bother, seems a bit scrawny.  Potentially good for lunch money or homework assignments

Female consensus: Kind of cute, but just too much of a dork to date.  Potentially good for buying snacks/lunches or doing homework assignments. 

By the sports period, the last of the day, his fate was sealed in the eyes of the student population- he was just another omega in a world of alphas-one more smart scholarship kid with a vague background trying to survive among the better looking, richer sons of doctors, lawyers and high-ranking politicians.  Deliberately moving as slow as possible, he took his sets of provided athletic clothing and trudged toward his designated cabinet in the men’s locker room.  He honestly tried his best to look at no one, catch no one’s eye, but it was no luck.  He was fresh meat, the New Kid.  And in time-honored tradition all over the world, he would have to be “initiated” at some point.    He had hoped it might take longer than this.  He sighed internally with a kind of gallows humor- but this was an elite academy, and the students were correspondingly assertive.  Jinki had discovered early in life the sad fact that bullies exist in every area of life, and school more than most. 

Yes, he knew how to read a room, and was not surprised (although he endeavored mightily to appear so) when a group of four swaggering, smirking guys in various levels of undress approached him.  The slightly taller one, posing shirtless in the center, knocked the entire stack of clothing to the floor. 

“Hey! New Kid…you seem a bit clumsy.”   A roll of laughter filled the room.

Jinki already knew this was going to end in a fight, unless a coach or teacher miraculously appeared with perfect timing (which never happened in real life).  He took a quick glance around, noting the lack of adult supervision (of course), and the subtly forming ring of spectators.  Nothing drew a crowd like a fight brewing.  It was a blood scent to an ocean of circling sharks, a pack of wolves hovering until the victor left a kill behind so they could tear the scraps from the bones.

Jinki knelt and began to gather the scattered articles, stumbling over repeated uses of “Excuse me” and “I’m Sorry”.  The supporting actors, not the first one to speak whom Jinki had already decided to call Leader, began to help him out- by conveniently holding a shirt just out of reach, or waiting until he had a small stack going before pushing the clothes to the floor once again, mocking his efforts the entire time. 

Finally, the game grew old, and Leader moved onto Stage Two, just as Jinki predicted.  Verbal taunts were never quite enough in a crowd of boys.  If it were in the halls, with girls around, then jeers and maybe a quick shove were all he would expect.  But here, behind closed doors, it would have to be some kind of physical contact; a bruise, a punch, a split lip, or abject humiliation at the very least.   Jinki grit his teeth as he slowly stood to his feet, wrinkled clothing spilling haphazardly out of the cradle of his arms. 

“Sorry for this,” Jinki began, trying a last-ditch effort to avoid conflict by turning to place the items in his cabinet and beginning to dress for the period.  He got no further than a loosened tie.   As Leader’s voice rang out again, Jinki realized the tactical error.  He turned his back, and should a person choose to see it as such, it could be construed as dismissing the speaker.  Leader, he knew, had definitely taken it as an insult.

“Ya!  Who do you think you are, turning your back on me-, “  Leader’s infuriated tone registered right before Jinki’s shoulder was roughly grabbed and wrenched around as he was slammed into the sharp-cornered edge of the furniture behind him.   There was a rumble of noise through the crowd, a tide of murmured odds given and bets wagered.  It was getting good.  Blood in the water.

A fist was clamped in the lapels of his jacket, twisting to hold him still.  The other fist rose slowly, mostly for the show of it all- had to please the mob, after all.  Jinki was sure this was a scenario oft repeated in the past.  Serial bullies- give them a little taste of fear, of admiration, of attention, and they struck as often as possible.   Meanwhile, Leader had begun his monologue.  Jinki nearly rolled his eyes at the dramatic speech, the capital letters clearly discernible in his voice.  

“NEVER turn your back on ME, .  Not unless you WANT to DIE, you HEAR ME?!?  Ohhhh…WHAT in the HELL were you THINKING, Mr. ‘I’m-a-know-it-all-honor-student’, he sing-songed, “Well, you won’t be so smart after I’m done KICKING YOUR , you little -“

And that’s when the improbable happened.