The Bad Life – Chapter 3.2 – Chapter 3: Those Who Raise Dogs

Author: nicotine

<Alright, you bastard <Hugh>. Let’s get back to the original topic. What happened to our predecessors <at this point>?>

<George> confessed.

I asked with a laugh. <George> replied coldly.

<No. I wasn’t tamed into a dog. I chose to become one.>

After a brief silence, he spoke in a slow tone.

<You’ll soon have to make a choice too. <Simon> is getting impatient. You’ll have to choose whether to submit to them or kill yourself. You know what happens if you miss the moment to choose, don’t you?>

<George>’s eyes gleamed strangely.

<You’ll meet the same end as the predecessors. Unlike me, they missed their moment.>

It was absurd. Utterly ridiculous and grimly dramatic. No longer functioning as humans? Living like dogs? Tortured until they went mad? They had already gang-raped me, photographed it, drugged me with strange substances, injected me, whipped me with a riding crop, and tried to drown me in a swamp. Everything imaginable, and even things beyond imagination, had already happened. Even if they continued their torture, it would just be a repetition of the same violence.

Physical, mental, and sexual violence had all been inflicted. No matter how creatively they tried, it would be hard to shock me further. If they offered me a chance to choose, I’d gladly throw that chance into the dirt.

<George>, acting all high and mighty, looked comical. No matter how valuable the information he held, he was just a pathetic dog. A castrated mutt too weak to bite its master’s hand. Staring at <George>’s thin, youthful cheeks, I spoke softly.

<You’re wrong, <George>. They made you believe you <chose>. You didn’t choose anything. You were raised as their dog from the start.>

<George> looked at me expressionlessly, but anger simmered quietly in his eyes. I continued calmly.

This time, I stepped forward toward <George>, my eyes glinting.

<They’ve already failed to tame me into their dog.>

That’s probably why <Simon> was so anxious, why <George> was intrigued by me, and why, <at this point>, I was still walking around on two legs, full of life.

<George> said nothing. Even so, I still needed his help. I needed everything he knew, felt, and had learned about <Jerome>, <Simon>, and <Hugh>. I needed to study the predecessors’ cases through <George>.

But this conversation made it clear. <George> was thoroughly <Hugh>’s dog. He could only think in the ways they had conditioned him. He believed he was living by his own free will, unaware he’d fallen into their trap.

Could <George>’s information be trusted? Wasn’t it possible that <Hugh> had fed him lies? Was <George> genuinely trying to help himself? Or was he just leading me deeper into the trap <Jerome>’s gang had set? Joining hands with <George> in this situation was no different from joining <Jerome>’s gang.

This was goodbye to <George>. The conversation wasn’t just about figuring out his true nature or breaking our alliance. Thanks to it, I had uncovered one weakness in <Jerome>’s gang. I gave <George>’s impassive face a grin and turned to leave the library. It was an unexpected gain.

A dog craves its master’s attention.

The reason a dog becomes that way is because the master trained it to be so. The master patiently tames the dog to become their adorable pet. At some point, even if the master stops doting on the dog, the dog still craves their love and attention.

The more effort put into taming a dog, the deeper its affection and trust for the master grow. Through <George> and the six predecessors, they had studied how to raise a dog.

My guess was that all of them dropped out due to excessive abuse or neglect. After six predecessors, the dog that finally survived was <George>. They must have believed they’d finally succeeded. They thought they could tame me into an even cuter dog. I might have become one. I was thrown into a swamp, betrayed by a roommate I thought was a friend, and gang-raped by boys I’d been closest to at school.

I could understand why the predecessors all went mad or met tragic ends. No one sane could endure this. They either went crazy and ended up in a mental hospital, killed themselves, or, like <George>, rationalized everything and remained their loyal dog.

That’s how it had been until now. But was a variable. From <Simon> repeatedly saying this time was special or <Jerome> grinning like a lunatic every time he saw me, I knew I was distinctly different from the predecessors.

How was I entertaining them? It wasn’t hard to figure out. My resistance was their enjoyment. The process of taming me itself. Since I was different, it was fresh, intriguing, and irresistibly fun. But what happens if, no matter how hard they try to tame it, the dog has no interest in its master?

Or… what if it shows more interest in someone else?

<Hey.>

A girl was lying on a towel spread out on the grass in the garden, writing a paper. When I greeted her, she was doodling on the edge of the paper and looked up, startled.

I held out a scarf to her. It had been lying at her feet.

The girl’s ear tips turned red as she sat up. She took the scarf and tucked her hair behind her ear. My gaze shifted to the paper she’d been writing.

<Kafka, yeah, Raymond.>

The girl said softly. Surprised to hear my name, I looked at her.

<We’re in the same German Lit class. Didn’t know, did you?>

I had no idea. I hadn’t had time to make friends at school. But this was good. Lucky, even. I plopped down in front of her.

<Sorry. I don’t really pay attention to my surroundings.>

<It’s fine. I’m Judy.>

The girl extended her hand. Surprisingly, it was covered in scars. I smiled and shook it.

<George> had said I knew nothing about the school. That was inevitable. Living with them had allowed them to subtly control what I saw, felt, and knew. Until now, I had no window to see the school beyond them.

But there were countless other students at this school besides them. Thinking they could keep me isolated from everyone else was arrogant.

Yes. To them, I was all they had, but they weren’t all I had. To me, they were just <friends I’d fallen out with>. Isn’t that a common thing in friendships?

I flashed a bright smile at my new friend Judy. She was writing a paper while waiting for friends. As we sat on the grass talking, her group gathered one by one. There were five members total: three girls, including Judy, and two boys. All unfamiliar faces.

They were of different ages and backgrounds but had grown close through a club. Judy was part of a sculpture club. That explained the scars on her hands. Some joined the club as a hobby, but Judy was preparing for art school.

I was surprised to learn the school had clubs. We went to a café, sipped coffee, chatted about exams, and headed to the studio.

The studio was in one of the school’s annexes, much larger than I’d expected. One member, dressed in a dusty spacesuit-like outfit, went to work in another room. I stayed with Judy and a boy named Carl. They sat at a workbench and showed me some wooden sculptures they’d made.

<Wow.>

I lifted a horse Carl had made, genuinely impressed. It was the size of a human head.

Carl grinned.

I asked, examining Judy and Carl’s work. They were truly impressive. Judy answered.

<Yeah. A teacher comes from outside every Friday.>

She asked playfully.

It wasn’t that I was suddenly into sculpture. I was handy, but before living with Julia, I often did chores to help Dad, so I wasn’t fond of hands-on work. But I didn’t say that. My goal was to hang out with them to avoid <Jerome>’s gang. Plus, Carl was perfect bait.

Since <Jerome>’s gang wasn’t interested in girls, they wouldn’t care if I hung out with Judy. But Carl was different. I wasn’t sure yet, so I planned to hang out with both Judy and Carl, but Carl seemed like better bait. Imagining how <Jerome>’s gang would react to my new friendships made me giddy.

The knife’s handle had been in my hand all along. They could abuse and mock me all they wanted, but submission was something only I could give. And I had no intention of ever giving it to them. How would they play their game now?

I smiled softly at Judy.

<Yeah. Teach me a bit.>

We spent the afternoon in the studio. Time flew as we carved wood and drew.

By evening, we headed to the dining hall together. Thanks to Carl living in the same dorm, we ate at the B-wing dining hall. Sitting between Judy and Carl, I chatted happily about tomorrow’s exam and a tire puncture incident from last weekend. We laughed loudly over trivial things, making a ruckus.

At some point, I felt the gaze I’d been waiting for. Turning, I saw <Jerome> and <Hugh> sitting side by side at a table across from us, staring at me. For once, <Jerome> looked off. His expressionless face tried to smirk when our eyes met, but it was a comical attempt. Instead of forcing a smile, <Jerome> just glared at me blankly, not touching his food.

Oh, the sweet thrill of victory and joy that surged in my chest when I met <Jerome>’s face! The bright, radiant smile I gave to <Jerome>, who couldn’t even laugh! <Hugh>, much better at controlling his expression, gave a sly wave before leaving with <Jerome>. Neither had touched their plates. Watching the two boys’ retreating backs, I grinned with a satisfaction I hadn’t felt since coming to this school.

After finishing the meal, I went up to the dormitory side by side with Carl. Carl lived in room 201 with three other boys. When we came out from the stairway into the second-floor drawing room, about seven or eight boys were all out in the drawing room and balcony, bustling about. It was an unfamiliar scene. It was noisy with fellows half-lying on the edge of the sofa tossing a tennis ball back and forth, a fellow lying on his stomach on the floor studying for an exam, and fellows sitting with their legs stretched out, smoking cigarettes.

They were all boys who lived in rooms 201 and 202. The dormitory doors on both hallways were wide open. It seemed like there was no one inside the rooms. Everyone was out of their rooms, bustling about. When Carl appeared, the boys greeted him in unison and looked at me with curious expressions. Carl introduced me to them.

<Hi, Raymond.>

A boy lying with his head resting on the sofa’s armrest threw a tennis ball to me. Catching the ball and throwing it back, I also offered my greeting.

<Hi.>

For a short while, I was able to hang out with the boys there. I sat on the balcony with Carl and Eric (who was Carl’s roommate), exchanged a few words about the exam, and also heard about the various parties that would be held after the exams were over. A short while later, when Eric said he had to study for the exam and got up first, I followed suit and rose to my feet. We exchanged goodnight greetings and I made my way to the stairs.

Suddenly curious, I cautiously peeked my head out of the stairway when I reached the third floor as well. It was no different from the second floor. The third floor’s drawing room and balcony were also packed with boys, it was noisy, and laughter frequently erupted. Likewise, all the room doors were wide open. I moved my steps and finally arrived on the fourth floor, the top floor.

I was able to face a completely different, impeccable stillness from the floors below. On both the left and right, all the room doors were firmly shut, and the sofa in the drawing room looked as if no one had ever sat on it. The carpet on the floor was spread out neatly without a single wrinkle, and the balcony seemed to have its door left open merely as a formality. An abnormally quiet and somewhat eerie silence gloomily dominated the entire fourth floor.

I slowly moved my feet toward the left hallway. The closer I got to the door, the more my stomach churned with anxiety. It felt as if my spine was freezing over. A nasty premonition reared its head intensely, and even my fingertips grew numb.

The moment I placed my hand on the cold doorknob, the fine hairs on the back of my ear stood on end. Even though it was an ice-cold doorknob, I snatched my hand away as if I had touched something hot. I stared blankly at the thick door made of walnut wood. Beyond this door, they are waiting for me. I could feel their unconcealable hostility and anger, raw and unfiltered.

Suddenly, laughter burst out.

<Hahahahat, ha, hahaha!>

The sound of my laughter must have been clearly audible to them beyond the door. It was truly a sweet anger. I burst out laughing like a madman in front of the door, then turned my body. In the past, I would have opened that door and gone inside. But now I know. The cowardice of tucking one’s tail between one’s legs at a moment one cannot win was a virtue the final victor must possess.

I left the firmly shut door and went down the stairs without any lingering attachment. That evening, I hung out with Carl on the second floor until late at night and then fell asleep on his living room sofa, covered with a blanket.

When I woke up the next day, I was surprised by a scene that was quite different from the mornings I had experienced so far. The boys were in their underwear, a toothbrush with toothpaste in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, busily running around looking for their socks and neckties. A fellow who was wandering around muttering something while looking at his lecture notes failed to properly watch his step and tripped over a pair of pants someone had taken off the night before. Meanwhile, it was chaotic because of a fellow pounding on the bathroom door, urging whoever was inside to hurry.

In their midst, with my hair a mess and a wrinkled school uniform shirt on, I roughly tied my necktie, and without even thinking of properly tying my shoelaces, I left the dormitory with Carl. Naturally, I couldn’t wash my face either. With sleepy eyes, Carl and I, who were half-asleep, went down to the dining hall and wolfed down breakfast.

All of this was surprisingly fresh. It was completely different from the top floor in every aspect. My dear top-floor roommates all discreetly coordinated their bathroom times so that no one ever had to pound on the bathroom door in the morning. Except for <Hugh>, everyone was neat and quiet in their demeanor, and in fact, <Hugh> too, apart from his bright and sociable personality, was not a loud person.

Come to think of it, with four vigorous boys just turned twenty living together, there had never been a single fight. It was excessively quiet. Everything was bizarrely and perfectly organized, and they led their lives in a bizarrely and highly regular manner.

Why had I never thought it was strange? Why had I not even once thought to observe the other students? It was beginning to become clear that they had subtly controlled even the way I viewed the school until now. I felt as if my eyes had been newly opened.

After the meal, I mingled with Carl and a few of his friends and went to attend class. The weather was nice. The sky was astonishingly blue, and the clear morning air freshly seeped into my lungs. We all entered the school building together, venting our complaints about the exam. After arriving at the school, we scattered. I went to take the German literature exam, Carl to his history exam, and the others also moved their feet busily to take their respective exams or to submit papers. The inside of the school was already bustling with students.

As I was going up to the second-floor classroom mixed in with the students, I suddenly felt a sharp gaze. I immediately turned my head. Beyond the students, <Simon> was standing there. He was staring blankly at me with his quiet and gloomy black eyes. The conversation I had with <George> yesterday flashed through my mind.

< <Simon> is getting anxious. The moment to choose will come.>

Pushed by the students coming up from behind, I had no choice but to turn my head away. When I went up to the second floor and looked down, <Simon> had vanished like a ghost.

I sat down to take the exam, but I had no interest in the test paper from the beginning. School exams, and for that matter, university admission, were the same. Judy was engrossed in creating a portfolio to submit for art school entrance exams, and even Hugh was studying with the goal of Cambridge, but I had never had any interest in school.

Until now, I had lived burning only with the desire for revenge against Julia, and hereafter, getting revenge on her was my only interest. For now, I had unexpectedly gotten entangled with <Jerome>’s group, but this fight would not last long anyway. Looking back at the examples of my predecessors, that was the case. At most, it was one season.

When summer ends, my business with <Jerome>’s group will end one way or another. Either I will leave the school with my hands up in surrender, or <Jerome> and his cronies will finally be broken, and after that, I will return to my revenge against Julia.

In any case, just because <George> was an enemy did not mean I intended to ignore the warning he left. <Simon>’s face, which I had glimpsed before the German literature exam, kept weighing on my mind. <George> had said that <Simon> only has sex when his partner is asleep. That statement did not seem like a lie. It was able to explain several of <Simon>’s actions that I could not understand.

For instance, after finding out I had been gang-raped in my sleep, I had once told <Simon> to rape me right here and now. He did not comply. When <Jerome> and <Hugh> first gang-raped me, <Simon> did nothing either. He only brushed my hair aside from beside me. In the second gang-rape where <George> participated, <Simon> only held my legs and spread them apart.

The more I thought about it, the more chilling <Simon>’s actions felt. Does he really only have relations with a sleeping partner? When the partner is asleep and cannot show any reaction? Could that even be called a <relationship>? No. <Simon>’s actions were one-sided. It was treating a living person like a doll, as if playing with a doll.

If the partner’s reaction was not important to <Simon>, then perhaps there was no need for the partner to even be alive for him.

At that moment, I realized. Having relations with a sleeping person was not much different from having relations with a dead person. Once I started thinking that way, every single word <Simon> had said began to weigh on my mind. Every time <Jerome> almost killed me, he would ask <Simon>. If this much was okay. If I was still alive. As if <Simon> knew such things well. As if <Simon> knew well just how far one could go before a person dies….

When the bell signaling the end of the exam rang, I was so startled I nearly jumped. A cold sweat had broken out at some point. After submitting my answer sheet, I dazedly walked out of the classroom. When Judy grabbed my shoulder from behind, I was so startled that I ended up shaking her hand off. Judy blinked with a surprised face.

She asked worriedly. It was just as Judy said. Cold sweat had pooled in my palms. I put my hands in my pockets and answered.

<No…. The exam was harder than I thought, so I’m a bit worried. I’m not sick.>

As I spoke with a smile, Judy also let out a sigh.

<You’re right. It was hard. Especially the last question, I think I only managed to write about 800 characters….>

Listening to Judy’s chattering voice, I left the classroom. While going down the stairs, I felt as if someone was constantly watching me, making the back of my neck feel creepy, but I did not look back. If you get swept away by feelings, you get overwhelmed by illusions. <Simon> was not an illusion. No one was an illusion.

They were all real entities with warm blood flowing through them, just like me. Real entities could be destroyed. As I regained my breath and came out into the garden with Judy, warm sunlight poured down. That was right. There was nothing to worry about. For now….

We naturally moved our steps toward the annex building where the club’s workshop was located. When I stepped inside the workshop, for a moment, my body went cold. <Jerome>, who was sitting perched on the workbench examining a carving knife, raised his head. He gave us a bright smile.

<Hi, Raymond! Did your exam go well?>

The game had begun.

Judy blushed slightly upon seeing <Jerome>. Since I was standing right next to her, I was able to notice it immediately. When I turned my head to <Jerome>, he returned a smile as handsome as a picture. As I faced that smile, several things about <Jerome> that I had not considered important at all came to mind sporadically. <Jerome> was a member of the British royal family. He was as tall as me, had a firm and sleek body thanks to consistent horse riding, and above all, he was handsome.

<Jerome>, perched on the workbench, had his hair neatly swept back, revealing a clean forehead, and he looked at the two of us with a gentle face. Judy looked at me with a shy face. She was waiting for an introduction. There was no need to think deeply about how attractive <Jerome> would appear to Judy. <Jerome> was smiling cheerfully and met my eyes affectionately. Staring at those snake-like green eyes, I spoke slowly.

.>

At my words, <Jerome> gave a little smile. I ignored it and continued speaking.

<Ah, so you’re Judy.> <Jerome> jumped down from the workbench. He strode toward Judy. <Nice to meet you.>

He bent down and greeted Judy by touching cheeks. Judy became noticeably shy.

<Hi, <Jerome>….>

Judy was of no use. I could tell as soon as I saw her shyly meeting <Jerome>’s eyes.

<Jerome> was a completely different person from yesterday when his complexion had been poor. He gave me a bright smile and naturally moved toward the workbench with Judy. While <Jerome> was asking if the wooden statues on the workbench were her works, the area near the workshop entrance became noisy.

A short while later, a few club members, including Carl, came in. They seemed surprised to find <Jerome>. <Jerome> looked at the boys with a likable face, then turned his gaze back to me. It was as if he was telling me to go ahead and introduce them.

But there was something strange about that gaze from <Jerome>. Beneath his calm demeanor, a chilled anger seemed to have settled.

No, <Jerome> was definitely angry. He was angry that I had dared to make a new friend and stay out all night without permission. He must have been waiting for me in this empty workshop where no one was around, grinding his teeth.

It was funny. That childish immaturity and anger were ridiculous. It was so easy to see through that it was almost unbelievable.

I strode over to Carl, who was standing awkwardly at the workshop entrance. I put my arm around his shoulders in a friendly manner, pressed against his side, and said brightly.

<That’s <Jerome> over there. He lives with me on the top floor in Dormitory B.>

When I introduced him in a high voice, the awkward atmosphere broke. The boys rushed over to <Jerome> and offered their greetings. Carl and I also leisurely walked toward the boys. I was still standing with my arm around Carl’s shoulders. Carl playfully poked me in the side and asked.

I answered Carl affectionately.

<Jerome> shook hands and exchanged greetings with the boys. He pretended to naturally turn his head and glanced past me. His eyes were like a crocodile’s. So what are you going to do about it, <Jerome>? What is your next move? Carl, completely oblivious to the current between <Jerome> and me, playfully wrapped his arm around my neck as if to choke me.

Bursting into laughter, I hugged Carl’s side. I made a show of playfully struggling, deliberately making a commotion while trying to pull my head free. I couldn’t stand how amusing the stare boring into the back of my head was.

Because the weather was so nice, we soon left the annex building. We brought the dogs raised at the stables and played, rolling around together in the grass while throwing a frisbee. What was quite surprising was that <Jerome> also blended into the group well. He was moderately humorous, surprisingly quick to laugh, and witty.

In other words, <Jerome> did not look like a madman in the slightest. No one could have imagined that he was a crazy bastard who would strike a person with a horsewhip, push someone into a swamp simply for fun, and gang-rape a friend from the same dormitory without a second thought.

However, I was not fooled by <Jerome>’s likable face. Our behavior was like that of a cheetah hiding in the bushes and a gazelle that had noticed its gaze. If he were to attack, I was ready to run away at any moment, but as long as <Jerome> did not move, I acted boldly as if he were not there.

At first, we were throwing the frisbee to the dogs, but later we started throwing the frisbee to each other. I intentionally acted particularly friendly only to Carl. Carl also seemed to have taken a liking to me and treated me without reservation.

As we played together boisterously, other guys gradually joined our group. The boys tripped each other, grabbed each other’s waists and threw them to the ground, and snatched the frisbee to throw it wherever they pleased, playing around noisily. I, too, rolled around and played in the grass with Carl. Our school uniforms and hair were a mess with grass stuck to them, and our shirts were stained with dirt, but no one cared.

In the midst of all that, I often felt a gaze staring intently at me. When I felt the gaze, I would occasionally turn my head and deliberately make eye contact with <Jerome>. He had a bright, smiling face the entire time, but I knew very well that if he could, he would want to strangle me and slap my face with a horsewhip. So every time our eyes met, I would give him a brilliant smile and drape my arm over the nape of the neck of Carl who was standing beside me.

After running around and playing to our heart’s content, we flocked to the dining hall to eat lunch. I stuck with Carl the whole time. I would put my arm around his shoulders, or casually lean against Carl’s back while talking with the other guys. <Jerome> and I did not even sit at the same table. I sat at a table away from him and deliberately made a lot of noise as I finished my meal.

On the way out after finishing the meal, I ran into <Simon>. Even though our eyes met, <Simon> walked past me as if I were a stranger. Something smelled suspicious.

We each left to take our exams. For the afternoon exam, everyone had different subjects, so we had no choice but to scatter. I was reluctant to wander around alone in this situation, but I moved my feet, trying to comfort myself that it would be okay since it was, above all, inside the school, and teachers were right beyond the classroom doors.

Some classrooms had already started their exams, so a quiet atmosphere flowed through the school. As I crossed and turned down a few hallways, the presence of people gradually thinned, and along with it, my anxiety grew in volume, so I quickened my pace. It was the moment I had just stepped onto the landing and was about to take the stairs two at a time.

It was <Jerome>’s voice.

I whipped my head around so fast it hurt. I did not know <Jerome> was following me. He had stalked me right up to my back without a sound. I was so surprised I almost fell down the stairs, but <Jerome> quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

He said softly.

<Jerome> naturally reached his hand toward the blade of grass in my hair. However, instead of picking it off, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked it forcefully, slamming my head into the wall. The upper part of my forehead hit the hard, rough stone wall and was torn open. But the pain was momentary. The moment my forehead was split open, my mind snapped into clarity.

I twisted my body, driving my elbow hard toward his side. <Jerome> easily dodged the attack by taking a slight step to the side. He once again grabbed my head and slammed it into the stone wall. My brain rattled. This time, my ears started ringing and the strength drained from my knees. It hurt like hell. Blood was already flowing, soaking the area around my eyes and my cheeks. I felt like I was going to throw up.

As I collapsed onto the stairs, <Jerome> crouched in front of me, still gripping my hair tightly. He pulled on the back of my head to lift it and looked intently into my eyes.

The madman who had just split my forehead open asked calmly.

Blood was flowing, so I could not open my eyes properly. My ears were still ringing, and my tongue felt like it had rolled back into my throat. <Jerome> continued.

<I’m confused about which one it is, so I don’t know what I should do.>

I spat in his face. My head was still ringing. Every color had an afterimage, like fireworks exploding in front of my eyes. <Jerome>’s smiling face flickered in and out of view.

With those words, <Jerome> rose to his feet. The sound of his dress shoes faded away. My consciousness, hazy like fog, was in turmoil. The words <Jerome> had left behind circled my ears ominously. It was a long while before I could come to my senses and get up.

It was difficult to beat <Jerome> with physical strength. I thought about this while sitting in the nurse’s office receiving treatment instead of taking the math exam. The school nurse asked how I got the injury, but I mumbled and gave some random reply. Perhaps understanding it as the hot-bloodedness of a twenty-year-old, the nurse did not question me for long.

The entire time she was wiping away the blood and disinfecting the wound, I recalled <Jerome>’s fierce grip. I could not beat <Jerome>, nor <Simon>, nor <Hugh> in terms of strength. It was not because I was particularly frail or physically weak. I was a little taller than <Hugh>, and the same height as <Jerome> and <Simon>. Because the three of them consistently trained their bodies, I was not as well-built as them, but I also had broad shoulders and a naturally large frame thanks to my tall height. It was just that my strength fell short of the strength they had cultivated.

They were thoroughly prepared hunters. There was no way to stand against them with strength. I was outmatched in physical force and outmatched in numbers. Violent situations had to be avoided as much as possible. Being left alone with one of them was also not a good situation. Above all, I wanted to avoid accumulating more injuries. If my body was not healthy when the moment came to react properly, I would miss the opportunity.

Fortunately, the wound on my forehead was not deep. There was more bleeding than I expected, but the forehead is an area that bleeds a lot even with a small cut. It did not even need stitches. After a bandage was applied, I was able to leave the nurse’s office.

As soon as I left the nurse’s office, I made my way to the classroom where the French exam was being held. I peeked inside through the window. There were fewer than twenty students taking the exam, and among them, I could see Judy struggling but diligently solving the problems. I felt a great sense of relief. After checking on Judy, I went to see Carl. Carl was also safely taking his exam.

<Jerome>’s words were the most ominous of any I had heard so far. I had dragged Judy and Carl into this game. But they were merely being used. They were nothing more than chess pieces. It was unjust for the tip of the sword to be turned toward them. Not only was it unjust, but it was… strange. It felt like it was against the rules.

It was not their way. Attacking Judy and Carl in my place was not the way we had been playing the game. They were the type of guys who would move a chess piece when I moved a chess piece. It was their way to lead the game as if solving a mystery, giving out small clues one by one. This meant that they did not just indiscriminately flip over the chessboard like this.

Lost in thought, I walked out to the school grounds and then stopped abruptly. Did I not know better than anyone that they had no pattern? I had to throw away such naive thoughts. If <Jerome> was going to actively drag Judy and Carl into the game, there was no way to stop it now. If I were to back off from the two of them now, would <Jerome> also back off? Would <Simon> and <Hugh> pretend not to know Judy and Carl?

There was no way that would happen. They would abuse Judy and Carl without hesitation, simply for fun, and for the sole reason that I wanted to protect those two people. Both Judy and Carl had already entered this game. If I win this game, Judy and Carl will be safe, and if I lose….

I could not continue the game like this.

The situation has to change. I headed for the dormitory. I intended to meet <George>.

<George> was in the dormitory, but he looked different from usual. Instead of tapping away at his laptop, he was buried in the sofa, listening to a violin performance. Sitting quietly with his eyes closed as if he were asleep, he opened his eyes when I made my presence known. <George> greeted me calmly.

<Don’t pretend you don’t know.>

I retorted coldly and crossed the living room. I turned off the audio system under the tapestry. The living room instantly became as quiet as a mouse.

Only <George> and I were in the dormitory. Deciding to talk to him was an impulsive thought, but fortunately, the situation worked out well. I turned off the music and brought a chair to sit opposite <George>. We were sitting close enough for our knees to touch. <George> was still completely buried in the sofa, not moving a single finger.

I looked intently at <George> across from me. His nervously thin cheeks were colorless. He looked extremely tired and exhausted. As if last night had been very fatiguing…. A foul premonition suddenly struck me.

I stood up and stood in front of <George>. <George> only raised his gaze to look at me. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and he did not stop me even when I touched the buttons. I undid all the buttons and opened his shirt.

It was just as I had expected. On his white, thin body, fresh marks of violence were left clearly. They were not marks from resisting. <George> must have endured it silently.

From this violence, I did not feel any hatred toward <George>. The reason for the violence must have been just for fun. Fun, or taking out anger. My ears grew hot. Even though <George> was clearly my enemy and an accomplice who participated in abusing me, anger surged within me. Before being an accomplice, he was my predecessor and a comrade.

I carefully traced the wounds left on him. <George> let out a low groan. I snatched my hand away as if I had been burned. The silence flowing between us was cumbersome.

I asked abruptly.

<George> buttoned his shirt without answering. I looked at his slender wrists and repeated myself.

I was genuinely curious.

<Didn’t you have plenty of opportunities to kill them?>

<George> answered calmly.

<Fine. Right. I get it.>

I sat down facing <George>. Looking into his unreadable, pale eyes, I asked once more.

<George> did not answer.

I spoke deliberately.

<<George>, I don’t give a fuck how you use me. You’re a son of a bitch anyway. When your master says sit, you sit, when he says bark, you bark, and when he says to fuck, you go into heat. I don’t hold a grudge against a son of a bitch. It’s the master’s fault for raising an ill-mannered dog on a loose leash. I’m just curious. You said you could get me out of here if I kill <Jerome>, right? How? How can you get me out when you can’t even get yourself out? How are you going to help me kill <Jerome>? I remember you speaking with great confidence back then. Was that just a bluff?>

Half of what I just said was a lie. I did hold a grudge against <George>. But there was no need to be honest with him.

<George> slowly rose to his feet. He went to the audio system under the living room tapestry and turned the music on again. The soft melody of a violin began to flow once more. I watched his gait carefully. Even though he walked very slowly, he looked precarious. I asked him point-blank.

Finally, <George> answered.

<Yes.>

He sank deep into the sofa and continued speaking with difficulty.

<You made <Hugh> angry yesterday.>

Despite my mockery, <George> did not react. He remained still with his head bowed.

The silence continued for a long time. By the time the violin performance ended and started again, <George> finally seemed ready to speak. When he raised his head, a spark of life had returned to his tired eyes. <George> now, as he usually did, meticulously examined my face and demeanor as if observing me, and met my eyes directly.

<It’s impossible for me to get out, but it’s possible for me to get you out using my methods. Of course, I won’t tell you now. You could run away with that method right this instant, and <Jerome> would find out it was me who helped you escape and take revenge. As I said, I have no purpose other than to survive. But if <Jerome> dies, the situation could change a lot. Things I can do besides just surviving will arise. But I can’t do them while <Jerome> is alive. So Raymond, I am fully prepared to help you kill <Jerome>. In any case, <Jerome> has already noticed that you and I are hatching a flimsy plot, so there’s no need to hide our alliance. We just need to hide the specific <plan> well.>

<Alright. I understand. What is this <plan>?>

<George> rose to his feet. He returned to the audio system under the tapestry and disconnected the speaker from which the music was flowing. He flipped the speaker over, opened the cover, and reached his hand into the complex tangle of wires inside. A moment later, what he pulled out was a transparent plastic bag the size of his palm. <George> handed me the bag. A white powder was contained inside the bag.

I took it, bewildered. It was not just the plastic bag. <George> handed me a key. It was a mysterious key with no numbers embossed on it. <George> spoke with a blank face.

Even without hearing the answer, I could guess the key’s identity. But I wanted to confirm. <George> willingly affirmed it.

<It’s the key to <Jerome>’s room.>

They were truly items that could change everything in a single blow. Excitement filled me to the brim, so much so that I could not even move. To me, who was frozen, <George> explained in a bizarrely slow tone.

<It’s just enough for one use. If you use even a little less, he won’t fall asleep as deeply as you think. Use it carefully.>

He continued speaking slowly.

<How you’ll get <Jerome> to take the drug… on which day you’ll kill <Jerome>… what method you’ll use to murder him… and how you’ll be able to ditch <Simon> or <Hugh>… you have to figure all of that out yourself. I gave you the decisive hint that can kill <Jerome>… and with this, my role is over. If you fail… that’s on you.>

That strange tone was because <George> was suppressing his excitement as he spoke. Killing <Jerome> was an intense desire that he and I shared.

I asked.

<Immediately, whenever you want.>

<George> stared blankly at my face for a moment, then spoke.

<It’s good to be excited, but don’t take this lightly, Raymond. <Jerome> is a member of the royal family. It’s possible to get you out of the school, but I can’t take responsibility for the pursuit that will follow. If you disappear from the school right after <Jerome> dies, it’s not a very difficult prediction to guess who the police will think the culprit is.>

<Alright.>

<George> answered shortly. I retorted in kind.

<Alright.>

We both shut our mouths and stared intently at each other. <George>’s pale blue eyes shone, tangled with excitement. Color had returned to his pale cheeks. We looked deeply at each other, unable to trust one another in the slightest, yet the one and only comrades we had.

From beyond the window, from the direction of the school, the sound of the bell signaling the end of the exam could be heard. At that sound, thoughts of Judy and Carl suddenly surged.

I hurriedly got up without even saying goodbye. I left the room and bounded down the stairs. The dorm supervisor standing at the entrance cast a glance at me as I grinned and laughed. As I left the dormitory and walked toward the school, my laughter gradually subsided. In place of laughter, anger slowly began to well up.

What a clever and cunning son of a bitch.

If <George> thought I would be fooled again by such sweet talk, he was being greatly arrogant. <George> ultimately did not answer one question. I had clearly asked <George>. My very first question was this:

But <George> never answered that question in the end. The opportunity, the choice that <George> had spoken of, had already disappeared.

When I first decided to go see <George>, that was the method I had in mind. The plan was to become the <Jerome> group’s docile pet dog, just like <George>, and then backstab them. However, thanks to the conversation with <George>, that plan went up in smoke.

The <Jerome> group no longer had any intention of taming me as their dog. In other words, we had now started the final game.

Just as <Jerome> and I had discussed once, from now on, they will test how far I can endure. The moment I can no longer endure and break down would be the moment the game ends. <George> also knew that we had reached the final stage. The talk of drugs and whatnot was bullshit. However, I kept both the plastic bag and the key safely in my pocket.

<George> threw me bait, and I pretended to take the bait. The moment will surely come when I can use this bait to my advantage.

Author's Thoughts

There are numerous stimulating scenes involving rape, gang rape, violence, abuse, and drugs. Please practice discretion as you proceed.

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