BEST SERVED COLD: THE ULTIMATE REVENGE SYSTEM

A Disgrace

Thump!

Thump!!

Thump!!!

The shoe sound of a school boy echoes in the concrete floor of oaken high. His forehead is sweaty, dripping down his name and then to his neck.

He tried so much to concentrate on the sound his shoe was making, but it didn't do well to drown out the thumping of heart.

The sound was quickly replaced by the beat of his already scared and frightened heart.

“What was the need of coming to school anyway?” He thought with a lowered head, clenching the strap of his school bag so hard that his nails dug into his palm even though they were short.

Thinking about his school bag, it couldn't feel anything, right? If he could just… just turn into his school bag, then maybe he might have found a way to escape this stupid life.

Of course, his life is stupid and full of vicissitudes he had no power over. Not even his damned school bag could escape it. It also suffers, miserably, just like its owner.

Sabito thought that moving here would make it any easier. He thought that moving here would give him a new identity, and having a new identity would make him less seen and noticed.

But he had thought wrong. And all his efforts of convincing her family to move from Boatswain to Oakenshield had landed him onto another hot mess and round of new predicament.

Sabito couldn't forget what he had gone through in the hands of his family before they finally agreed to move.

For months, he had done all sorts of menial jobs, just so he could meet up to the agreement he had with his parents.

“It's your responsibility to provide for the house, after all, you're the first son of the Dimon family.

If you want us to move, then you should provide the necessities for us to move and live comfortably in the new capital we're going to stay in.”

Their faces had been ruthlessly stoic and devoid of any form of warmth. His mother's hands had been on her waist as she sneered, her brows furrowed in dissatisfaction.

And his dad? He had been on the brink of devouring him.

But he bore each and every ounce of it, swallowing the insults and mockery that accompanied his decision.

“Why, Sabito, do you want us to move?” his mother. “You should be as strong as your fellow students in LA high, and not some squirming insects.”

“You're a disgrace, Sabito. Not like all the young powerful male in LA.” His father.

His voice is demeaning, crushing his soul and wiping clean the remaining self worth he had left.

He wanted to move, right? So he bore it. It didn't matter, they were his parents. He could stomach their insults, but not from those students from LA High.

Their words cling to Sabito like burrs. It was sharp and persistently painful, refusing to be shaken off. He told himself it didn't matter. He told himself he didn't care. But…but did he not?

Yes, he really did.

Every sneer, every cruel whisper, every laugh that lingered too long in the air, they borrowed into Sabito’s chest, hollowing him out. He felt it in the way his stomach twisted at the sight of their uniforms, in the way his hands curled into fists when he heard them approaching.

His breaths would hitch not from the sheer effort of keeping his expression blank, but out of fear.

Sabito could accept criticism from his parents more easily. That was different. Their words carried weight, but they also held history. They were the ones who raised him, and despite how much their words might hurt, he had years of practice in swallowing his feelings down.

But those students from LA High? They had no right!

They didn't know him. They didn't know what he had been through, what he had endured. And yet, they spoke as if they did, as if they had the authority to decide who he was, as if their careless jobs could carve his identity into something small, into something weak.

He wanted to be above it. He wanted to pretend their words bounced off him, that they were nothing but air.

But even air, when it's cold enough, when it cuts deep enough, can hurt, right? And their words? Their words were a winter that never ended.

But what was the need of moving in the first place? What was the reason? He shouldn't have moved. He shouldn't have wasted all that effort when this place wasn't any less different from Boatswain High in LA.

Here, in Oakenshield High in Chicago, the torture was on a whole other level than—

“Hey, hey!”

Sabito flinched, instantly tensing up when the voices of his nemesis sounded from across the hall!

His heart shot up to his throat, then plummeted straight to his gut. His breath caught. Another drop of sweat finally slipped free, splashing into the floor, but he barely had the time to notice it. His mind had gone blank, wiped clean by the realization that they had cast their eyes on him…again.

A slow, cruel grin stretched across Jasper's face, his lips curling just enough to reveal the sharp gleam of his teeth. His dark eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something that lay underneath it—hunger. The kind of hunger that came from knowing he had a weak thing that is trapped in his cruel sights.

Behind Jasper, Ethan balled his hands into fists, and then cracked his knuckles, the joints popping like firecrackers in the empty hallway. His head tilted slightly, making the light catch the silver ring on his finger—sabito knew that ring well. It had left bruises on more than a few students before and he wasn't excluded either.

Normally, there's no school that allows the use of jewelry, not not in LA High nor in Chicago. Or rather, the rules don't just apply to these three.

Mike leaned against the lockers, crossing his arms, one leg kicked up lazily. But his eyes—those dead, bored eyes—were locked onto Sabito with a quiet calculation.