Dual System: Ascension of A Nameless Nobody

Of course, he took some time from school as a bereavement. Even after being released from the hospital, he was still to stay in bed as he had healing ribs, a fractured cheek bone, and a body still mostly in recovery.

"Want anythin' to eat?"

The question came from Binna, who stood in the doorway to his room.

From the first day his sister tragically left, Binna was there–ready to be there for him.

Binna was always like a member of the family. A second sister. I was sorry at that time, but…I appreciated it a lot, he thought.

He slowly shook his head, laying in his bed silently.

Binna looked at him for a minute then turned away back down the hall.

Most days went like that. I just sat there in bed, bein' sorry for myself day-and-night. For some reason, I managed to hold it all in fairly well–I did my best not to shed tears in front of the doctors or at the funeral, but…when I walked in front of the mirror that one day, he thought.

Getting up, it was time to finally remove his casts and bandages, taking them off himself while Binna was away as he stepped into the bathroom to get a look at himself.

His body was covered in scars; head-to-toe, they stretched across his skin–completely unmissable. Seeing this immediately made tears stroll down his cheeks, standing there in total shock of what his body had been turned into.

"Frankenstein's Monster," "A zombie", "A villain"--just glancing at himself, he knew what people would think of him–what he already thought of himself.

It wasn't somethin' I told anybody besides Sis, but I wanted to be a model. Not many people assumed a brawler like me would take to somethin' like that…but Sis supported me. But, when I saw that face in the mirror–I felt those dreams snuffed away like that, he remembered.

Seeing that "monster" in the reflection, his first instinct, out of sorrowful anger, was to smash the mirror, but he stopped himself as he realized Binna was now standing by the bathroom door, looking straight at him.

"Kid…"

"--"

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Binna asked worriedly.

It felt like she was messing with him. "What's wrong?"--it felt like a sick joke to him, as if it wasn't clear what was wrong with him.

"...Don't play with me."

I went into total isolation. One week, one month…it was seven months until I finally was convinced by Binna to try out school again–but it was only because of her constant naggin'...and, I felt bad for her. She was tryin' her hardest, he thought.

[Six Months Later]

Throwing his uniform on, he made sure to tug the sleeves of his black blazer down his arms, hiding his scars and attempting to hide the scars that stretched over his hands, but it wasn't possible.

Instead, he decided to shove his hands into his pockets, wearing a gray sweater beneath his blazer so that he could keep a hood on, keeping his head down as he finally stepped out.

Fortunately for him, it was now winter, allowing for his heavily-obscuring uniform to not be that questionable as it could just be deemed as him combating the natural cold.

"Oh–Yeong-Un. You're back. Are you alright?"

The driver, a wizened old man with a bristly mustache asked, looking at him as the doors to the yellow van.

"--"

He didn't answer, only quietly seating himself in the cramped van, forced to sit directly besides other students.

"Yeong-Un? How's it goin' bud–"

As the shaggy, white-haired student sat closer to the hooded young man, he stopped as once getting closer, he saw the state of Yeong-Un's body.

"Oh, err, my bad…" The boy avoided him.

"--"

Returning to school, he avoided everybody. Despite multiple people trying to approach him, some even delighted at his return–a cold shoulder is what he gave everybody.

"Alone," he thought, that's what I was.

Though it wasn't entirely the fault of him being on his own, most students entirely steered clear of him.

As weeks passed, rumors began to cultivate; murmurs and whispers being spread about the "Devil Middle-Schooler". Since there was nobody that truly knew him now, these rumors were made because of his scarred appearance, and the nasty look in his mix-colored eyes.

This led to him being an urban legend, almost–famous between the schools in the city–eventually leading to other up-and-coming delinquents wanting to make a name for themselves by confronting him.

"Hey."

Blocking his path on a walk home, in an alley of the suburbs that was overshadowed by looming trees, a tall student stood in front of him.

He was tall, towering over him with an unbuttoned, crimson blazer, piercing on his lips, nose, and eyebrow and a shaved head.

A highschooler? He thought.

Though it was clear the older delinquent was trying to act imposing and intimidate him, he hardly cared.

"Out of my way. I'm tryin' to get home," he said quietly.

As he tried to walk past the older student from another school, the towering delinquent stepped in front of him again, shoving him back harshly as he stumbled a bit, still keeping his head down.

…Why is it always like this? People like this just can't let bygones be bygones. I'm pissed. I'm sad. Why the fuck can't you just let me grieve…? He thought.

He stood there with his mind swirled in his hazy thoughts before the delinquent slapped his hood away, revealing his scarred complexion and grabbing into his spiky, dark-blue locks.

"This is the 'Devil Middle-Schooler'? He's just a shrimp! Ha-ha!" The highschooler taunted him, looking back at his two sleazy underlings who were spectating.

Quietly, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing his arms that held a plentiful number of scars as well, ignoring their taunts.

"Look at that face! He's just as fucked up as they say! Ha-ha!" One of the delinquent's followers said, laughing.

"No way, I'm totally sharing this on Twetter!" Another brought his phone out.

But just before the round-bodied highschooler from the back could take a picture, the main, towering delinquent's wrist was grabbed tightly.

"Huh? You angry or something, shrimp?" The piercing-wearing delinquent grinned.

However, that smile quickly dimmed as the grip that squeezed his wrist became painful and debilitating–forcing the delinquent's hand to release its hold of the young man's hair.

Looking down at the "Devil Middle-Schooler", the delinquent was met with those gold-and-blue eyes, which, to his surprise, was the last thing he remembered of that encounter.

Snap.

Just as the photo was taken, with his entire body weight behind it, he slammed his knuckles directly against the highschooler's chin–knocking him out cold.

"Holy–!" One of the onlookers let out in surprise, "Chul?!"

"H-he knocked Chul out?! That middle schooler…?" The one who snapped the picture said, capturing the image of the knockout.

After laying out the towering, red-uniformed highschooler, he looked up, holding that fierce gaze that immediately made the spectating delinquents run away.

From then on, the image of the "Devil Middle-Schooler" knocking out the giant highschooler spread like wildfire through social media–reaching every school in the region.

It wasn't long before Yeong-Un, the "Devil Middle-Schooler", was the most feared delinquent in the region–being left alone.

However, this was an outcome he hardly was pleased with now. It's what he wanted before, but now–he was simply by himself.

Sorry, Sis…I couldn't protect you. But…I'll stay safe, for ya', he resolved.

Wearing his scars openly, he adopted a new confidence–opting to own the infamy he gained from the viral image, making sure everybody burned the image into their head of the most dangerous student in the country.

Still, somehow…to his surprise, he also earned some friends. It was his intention to drive himself into a corner, away from trouble, but–his own infamy brought its share of good to him.

"Hey, you're the 'Devil Middle-Schooler', right?! So cool…!"

"Want to eat lunch with us?"

"You're a living legend, dude!"

Even so, he didn't dislike the attention, either–embracing it as instead of infamy, at his own school, he became famous.

"Can I see your scars?"

"Please!"

A group of newly arriving students at his school asked him, to which he obliged with a slight smile, "Sure!"

As he held his arms up, he displayed his scars with a smile, watching as the eyes of the new students lit up at the sight.

"Badass!"

"Yeah, I want some scars like that, too!"

"Can I touch them…?"

He laughed a bit, lowering his arms, "Okay, not that far!"

The local legend of the "Devil Middle-Schooler" wound up being a title of respect, not of fear, as many talked about Yeong-Un with one description at the center of his being: "affable."