Reality Quest: Strike Back

The place was nothing like I'd imagined.

When Jinho mentioned going out for drinks, I'd pictured some dingy bar, the kind you see in bad teen dramas, with sticky floors and half-broken chairs. Instead, I stood in front of a sleek, modern building in the heart of Daehak. The exterior was all glass and steel, shimmering under the streetlights, with a discreet sign near the door that read "Solace Lounge."

A bouncer stood at the entrance, a normal looking guy in a black suit, if a little young. He didn't even ask for my ID, just glanced at me once before stepping aside to let me in. Did Jinho own this place? Surely he wasn't that rich.

The interior was something straight out of a luxury magazine. Matt black floors glowed with that sheen of recent polish, and the air was faintly scented with something expensive and unplaceable. 

The whole walk here, I'd been trying to talk myself out of it. There was still time to turn around, to go back home and pretend I'd never agreed to this. But the thought of Jinho's offer lingered. If there was even a chance I could smooth things over, I had to try. For Minseok's sake, if nothing else.

A couple of groups were scattered around the room, some leaning over pool tables, others laughing loudly over drinks.

And then I saw them.

Jinho was seated at a booth near the back, lounging like he owned the place. His dress shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had that same easy grin that somehow managed to look both wolfish and cool. 

Contrary to my expectations, Seokhyun and Taemin weren't here. It was 2 other guys, one with his arm slung lazily over the back of the booth and the other engaged in conversation with a girl who was laughing at something he'd said.

My eyes were drawn to the table with the ridiculous amount of food and alcohol. Could high-schoolers actually afford all this?

Jinho spotted me first. His grin widened, and he raised a hand in a casual wave.

"Dae! Over here!"

I hesitated for half a second before forcing myself to move. As I approached the table, every instinct in my body screamed at me to turn around and leave, but I ignored it.

"Glad you made it," Jinho said, gesturing for me to sit down. "We were just getting started."

I slid into the booth, squeezing into the corner. The girl glanced at me briefly before turning back to Seokhyun, clearly uninterested.

"Didn't think you'd actually come," Jinho said, leaning back in his seat.

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Jinho chuckled. "No reason. Just figured you might still be pissed about yesterday."

The way he said it, so casually, made my jaw clench. But I forced a small smile. "Water under the bridge."

"Yeah. I think we got off on the wrong foot," he said, swirling his drink. "I might've been a bit… heavy-handed. But that's just how things work sometimes. You get tested. You push back."

"Tested," I repeated, my voice flat.

Jinho nodded, his grin never wavering. "It's not personal. Anyway," he continued, leaning forward slightly, "I figured this would be a good way to clear the air. No hard feelings, yeah?"

"Sure," I said, forcing a small smile. "No hard feelings."

"Good." Jinho raised his glass. "Let's drink to that."

A shot glass was shoved into my hand before I could protest. I stared at it for a moment before gulping it down. Eh, I'd had worse. Minseok was an angry drunk.

Before I could think of a way to slip away, Jinho stood, clapping his hands. "Alright, let's move this party upstairs. I reserved one of the karaoke rooms. Let's see who's got some talent tonight."

The others cheered again, pushing their chairs back noisily and grabbing their things. I followed behind, my footsteps hesitant.

The group ascended a narrow staircase that led to the second floor of the building. The interior of the place screamed money, not the ostentatious kind, but the kind that knew how to be subtle about it. Polished floors, dim lighting that cast a warm glow, and the faint hum of music coming from behind closed doors.

The room was larger than I expected, with plush couches lining the walls, a glossy coffee table in the center, and a massive karaoke machine flashing neon lights in the corner.

I gave a start as I realised Inrang was there. 

He was sitting stiffly on one of the couches near the door. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his eyes darting around like he wanted to be anywhere but here. The oversized microphone lay forgotten in front of him on the table, and he flinched slightly when Jinho clapped him on the shoulder.

"There he is!" Jinho said with mock cheer, giving Inrang a rough shake. "Our little MVP. What, no song? You're supposed to warm up the room."

Inrang mumbled something that was too soft for anyone to hear, his head dipping lower. Jinho smirked, sliding onto the couch beside him and slinging an arm casually over the back of it, effectively pinning him there.

"You shy or something? C'mon, man, show a little spirit!" Jinho reached for the karaoke remote and started flipping through the song list. "Here. Something easy."

The first guy plopped down on the other couch, kicking his legs up onto the table like he owned the place. Guy number 2 followed suit, grabbing a handful of the snacks that had been laid out, a spread way too fancy for just a casual night out. It all felt staged, like someone had gone out of their way to make this room look effortlessly impressive.

Jinho's voice pulled me back. "Daehyun, what about you? Any hidden talents? Maybe you're secretly a karaoke pro."

"I'm good," I said quickly, sliding into the farthest corner of the couch. "Just here to hang out."

"Lame," Jinho said, dragging out the word. He tossed the remote onto the table and leaned back, stretching his legs. "Inrang, you heard him. Guess you're up."

Inrang's eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head, his voice trembling. "I-I don't know any of these songs."

Jinho snorted. "What are you, sixty? Just pick one and sing."

The room fell quiet as everyone turned to look at Inrang. He hesitated, glancing at the screen like it might swallow him whole. His hands twitched in his lap, and for a second, I thought he might actually bolt. But then he reached for the microphone with shaking fingers.

The song started, a cheerful pop number that clashed horribly with the tension in the room. Inrang's voice was barely audible over the backing track, and he stumbled over the lyrics, his face turning redder with every missed beat. The girl snickered quietly, nudging the second guy, who chuckled in response.

Jinho leaned over to me, his voice low. "Poor kid, huh? But he's useful. Always shows up when we need him." He said it like it was a compliment, but the smirk on his face told a different story.

I glanced at Inrang, who was visibly shaking now, his voice cracking as he tried to keep up with the song. He looked more like a puppet on strings than a person.

"Useful?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

Jinho shrugged. "Yeah. He owes me a favor, so I'm helping him out. Building some confidence or whatever." His smirk widened. "Generous, right?"

Generous. Sure. If this was Jinho's idea of generosity, I didn't want to know what his idea of cruelty looked like.

The song ended with a weak flourish, and Inrang set the microphone down like it might bite him. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes glued to the floor. No one clapped. Jinho leaned forward, grabbing a bottle of soda and popping the cap off with a flick of his wrist.

"Not bad," he said, his tone dripping with insincerity. "We'll make a performer out of you yet."

Inrang didn't respond, just nodded silently. I wanted to say something, anything… but the words stuck in my throat. What could I even say? It wasn't like I was in any position to stand up to Jinho. Not yet.

The night dragged on like that, with Jinho occasionally throwing jabs at Inrang and the rest of the group laughing along. I stayed in my corner, trying to blend into the furniture. 

After a few more songs and rounds of taunts disguised as jokes, Jinho stretched and stood. "Alright, drinks are running low. Let's head down and grab more. Gotta keep the party going."

The others followed him out of the room, laughing and shoving each other. Apparently, they were planning to stay the whole night. I stood as well, mumbling something about needing the bathroom. Jinho didn't even look back as he waved me off, the door clicking shut behind them.

The moment they were gone, I slipped back into the room, closing the door quietly behind me. Inrang was still there, sitting on the couch with his head down, staring at his hands. The microphone lay abandoned on the table, and the once-bright room felt dull and lifeless now that the others had left.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to start. Then I walked over and sat down on the couch opposite him.

"Hey," I said softly.

He flinched, looking up like he hadn't noticed me come in. His face was pale, his lips pressed tightly together. "Oh. It's you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

We sat in awkward silence for a moment before I spoke again. "Why are you here, Inrang? Why do you let them do this to you?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked to the door, as if he was making sure Jinho and the others weren't coming back, then back to his hands.

"I don't have a choice," he muttered finally.

I frowned. "You always have a choice. You could… I don't know, fight back or something. Or just stop coming here."

He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and tired. "Fight back? You've seen me, right? I can barely lift my own bag, let alone stand up to guys like Jinho."

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Then don't come. If you stay away, they'll find someone else to-"

"I can't!" he snapped, his voice trembling. His hands curled into fists on his lap. "You think I want to be here? You think I enjoy being their punching bag?"

"Then why?" I asked, more confused than anything. "Why put yourself through this? And…" I hesitated, glancing at his bowl-cut hair. "Why don't you just… change your haircut? You know they only make fun of it because it's… well..."

For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and glinting with anger… and something else. Something deeper.

"You don't get it," he said, his voice quiet but sharp. "My grandma… she's the one who cuts my hair. She's been doing it since I was little. It's the only thing she's been able to do for me since her eyesight started going bad."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Your… grandma?"

"She's all I have left," he continued, his voice thick. "My parents… they died when I was eight. Car accident. After that, it was just me and her. She raised me by herself. Worked herself half to death so I wouldn't go hungry. And now… now her eyesight's so bad she can barely see a few feet in front of her. But she still insists on cutting my hair."

His hands unclenched, trembling slightly as he wiped them on his jeans. "Every time she cuts it, she smiles. She says I look handsome. Like my grandpa did when he was my age. She doesn't know what they say about me at school. She doesn't know that they…" His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. "I can't tell her. It would break her heart."

I sat there, stunned into silence.

"And school?" he went on, his tone bitter but resigned. "I promised her I'd graduate with perfect attendance. She says it's the only thing she can be proud of now. She tells all the neighbors how proud she is of me. How I'm going to be the first in the family to go to university. So yeah, I come to school. I take it. All of it. Because if I don't, she'll know. She'll see it on my face, and I… I can't do that to her."

He laughed again, but it was a broken, bitter sound. "So don't tell me to fight back. Don't tell me to make different choices. Some of us don't get to have choices. Some of us just… survive."

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn't know what to say. Everything I'd been about to argue sounded hollow and meaningless in the face of what he'd just told me.

For a moment, it felt like the world around me had gone still. The weight of his pain, of his quiet resignation, pressed down on me like a ton of bricks. I could almost feel the ache in his chest, the burden of promises made and sacrifices hidden behind the mask of normalcy he wore every day.

The anger I'd felt earlier the frustration at him for not standing up for himself… shifted into something colder, more familiar. I'd felt it before, this mix of helplessness and regret, the kind that tightened your chest and kept you awake at night.

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't about him being weak or making bad choices. It was people like Jinho. People who saw someone struggling and decided to make it worse. People who thrived on making others feel small, who took advantage of kindness and turned it into a weapon. They fed off weakness because it made them feel strong, and it sickened me.

But as the anger surged inside me, I couldn't help but think what if this wasn't the first time I had sat back and done nothing?

I didn't say anything, but my mind was already elsewhere. The memories hit me like a wave, memories I'd tried so hard to bury. The feeling of standing there, helpless, as everything fell apart. The silence after the shouting, after the slammed doors. The moments I should have stepped in and said something, done something, but stayed frozen. Because it was easier to look away, to pretend everything was fine.

I didn't ask Inrang why he kept going. I didn't have to. I'd been there before, trapped in a situation that felt like it had no way out. I knew what it was like to carry a promise you couldn't break, even if it was tearing you apart.

The bitterness that followed in the wake of that thought twisted something deep inside me. Inrang didn't need to fight back. He shouldn't have to. This wasn't on him. It was on them. On me, for sitting back and doing nothing.

The words I had for him, for the situation, felt too small now. Too weak. Too... empty.

I was reminded of the promises I'd made once, the things I'd told myself I would do—but never did. The things I could have changed, but let slide. The things I should have stood up for, but stayed silent about.

And that's when it hit me, the one thing I hadn't been able to see before.

This wasn't just about Inrang. This wasn't just about the bullies. This wasn't even about me anymore. It was about the cycle. The way it all kept going, on repeat, because no one ever stopped it. We just let it happen. We told ourselves that it wasn't our problem, that we couldn't change it, but the truth was we could.

And that was when I knew. No one could fix this but me. Not for Inrang. Not for myself. Not for anyone.

I looked at him again… at the guy sitting there, still trying to hold it together and I understood something I hadn't before. We don't always get to choose our battles. Sometimes, the choice is made for us by the things we've lived through, by the promises we've made. But we always have the choice to stop being a bystander. To make a change, even if it means tearing down what we've built up until now.

I didn't say anything right away. My throat felt tight, like the words were stuck there, refusing to come out. But when I finally spoke, my voice was steady, despite the turmoil inside.

"You won't have to face them alone anymore," I said, my resolve hardening. "I won't let you."

And for the first time in a long time, I meant it.

The air in the room seemed to shift, growing heavy and electric. A soft chime rang out, and a glowing blue window appeared in front of me.

QUEST: A DANGEROUS INVITATION

COMPLETE

Inrang's eyes flickered with something, maybe hope, maybe disbelief… but I didn't care. I had made my decision. No more hiding. 

I stepped outside, shutting the door behind me with a soft click.

Walking forwards a bit, I came to a stop.

"Is this why you gave this Quest Window to me?"

The Administrator didn't answer.

"You want me to stop it all. You want me to tear this system in our school down."

Silence, and then another chime rang out.

CHAIN QUEST INITIATED

JUDGE OF NEW BEGINNINGS

Defeat Monster JINHO CHOI

Reward: Silver Skillstone 

Time Limit: 30 MINUTES

PS: Stop thinking too small.

I let out a bitter laugh. 

My thoughts went back to Minseok, to the easy smile he always wore, the way he made everything feel simpler, lighter. He'd been worried about me today, had asked if I was okay. He'd never expected this. He just wanted me to be normal.

Sorry, Minseok. I guess we won't be living that smooth life we planned on.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out quickly, expecting it to be a message from Minseok, maybe a check-in. But instead, it was a message from Jinho himself.

You coming down? The others left to go pick up a friend

My fingers hovered over the keys. I wanted to write something snarky, something to take the edge off my nerves. But no. 

Yeah. I'm coming.

I hit send, then shoved the phone back in my pocket and then walked forward towards the fight I knew awaited me.

If people reading this leave comments on things they want or ideas, that would be cool! Thank you.