My footsteps stopped right in front of the women's restroom door.
From behind the closed door came the sound of dull impacts—followed by suppressed groans. Not screams. More like someone who already knew that screaming wouldn't change anything.
I pushed the door open.
The door creaked softly, and the scene inside greeted me immediately.
Nora was sprawled on the floor, her back pressed against the cold ceramic wall. Her hair was a mess, part of it still being yanked by a tall girl. Two others stood casually near the sinks, their faces filled with faint smiles—the smiles of people enjoying a bit of entertainment.
"Look at her face," one of them said with a quiet giggle.
A girl's hand lifted again, ready to strike.
But before that palm could come down—
I was already standing behind her.
My hand clamped firmly around her wrist.
"Aw—?!"She jolted and turned around. Their eyes widened when they realized I was there, their breath catching in their throats.
"Who are you?" asked the girl standing right in front of me. Her voice rose, a mix of shock and irritation.
I didn't answer.
My gaze shifted to Nora.
She was sitting on the floor, her uniform rumpled, her hair disheveled, her breathing uneven. Her eyes stared straight at me—no tears. Just a frozen, empty look, as if she wasn't even sure this was real.
I looked back at her.
Not with pity,but with a cold understanding.
This is how the world works.The weak suffer.And the strong… are free to do whatever they want.
I turned my eyes back to the girl in front of me.
"Why are you bullying her?"
"Tch, who the hell is this bastard?"She snorted, then tried to slap me with her free hand.
I yanked the arm I was holding.
Her body lost balance and slammed into the floor with a loud thud.
I crouched lightly, still gripping her arm, then twisted it in a direction it was never meant to go.
"Why are you bullying her?"
Her face tightened as she endured the pain. She grit her teeth, her breathing ragged. Without warning, she spat at me.
"Mind your own damn business, bastard!"
I tilted my head, easily avoiding the spit.
I felt irritated.Not because of her words—but because of how vulgar and filthy her behavior was.
Yet instead of anger, a faint smile formed on my face.
"Even so," I said softly, "I'm someone who believes in gender equality, you know."
I twisted her arm even further.
"CRACK!"
The sharp sound echoed through the restroom, bouncing off the ceramic walls.
"AAARGH—!!"
Her scream burst out, shrill and broken, before her body convulsed and collapsed unconscious onto the floor.
I stood up.
The two remaining girls froze in place. Their faces were pale, their breathing stuck in their throats, their eyes trembling as they stared at the body lying on the floor.
One of them turned and ran for the door, nearly tripping over her own feet.
I let her go.
My focus shifted to the last girl.
Before she could react, I was already in front of her, my hand closing around her throat and slamming her against the wall.
She choked, her breaths coming out in broken gasps, her legs scrambling for footing.
"What are you hiding behind your back?"
With trembling hands, she pulled out a phone from behind her skirt.
The screen was lit. A voice recording was still running.
I took the phone, stopped the recording, and slipped it into my pocket.
"Now you can leave," I said flatly."Oh—and take this girl with you too."
She nodded frantically, on the verge of tears, then propped up the unconscious girl and dragged her out.
The restroom fell silent again.
After making sure they were truly gone, I turned around.
Nora was still sitting on the floor.
Her eyes were wide, filled with shock—and something else. Confusion. Fear. And maybe… relief she hadn't yet admitted to herself.
I walked over to her.
Lowered myself onto one knee so we were at eye level.
My hand rose slowly and gently touched her cheek—a sharp contrast to the violence just moments ago.
Her skin was cold.
"Are you afraid of me?"
She didn't answer right away.
A few seconds passed, filled only by the sound of our breathing.
"I…"Her voice was hoarse. "I don't know."
Her eyes trembled, then dropped slightly, as if searching for words she couldn't find.
"You saved me," she continued quietly. "But the way you did it… it was scary."
I pulled my hand away.
"That's normal," I said.
I stood up and extended my hand to her.
"But remember one thing," I continued coldly."I didn't come to save anyone."
Nora stared at my hand for a few seconds, then hesitantly took it and stood with a little help from me.
"I came to satisfy my own desire," I said as I pulled her up.
From the beginning, what exactly is goodness?What does it mean to be a good person?
If someone helps the poor—giving them money or food—they're easily classified as a good person. The reason is simple: their action benefits someone else. The world loves definitions that are practical and easy to swallow.
But from another perspective, it's not that simple.
The helper sees a beggar. Discomfort arises—pity, sympathy, or some other feeling. The brain searches for a way to get rid of that feeling. And so, a solution is created: giving. With a single action, two things are resolved—the other person's suffering is eased, and the helper's inner unease disappears.
In the end, who was really helped?
Humans don't move because of pure morality, but because of impulses. Every action—no matter how small—is an attempt to fulfill some desire or purpose within themselves. Whether it's emotional relief, social acceptance, or worse, because they've been indoctrinated by someone else.
Her eyes met mine again—this time filled with fear, confusion… and a deep curiosity.
"E-Even so… thank you," she said softly. Her voice trembled. "For… helping me."
I didn't answer.
Not because I didn't hear her, but because there was no answer that needed to be given.
We walked down the school corridor. Nora stayed half a step behind me, as if afraid to get too close—yet just as afraid of being left behind. Her hand still clutched the edge of my jacket.
When we entered the classroom, the atmosphere instantly changed.
All eyes turned toward us.
Some students froze. Others half-stood, unsure how to react. Mouths parted slightly, eyes wide as they stared at me… and Nora walking behind me.
Whispers spread.
"Wasn't that…?""Why is Kurogane with her?""That girl again?"
I ignored them all.
My steps remained calm as I headed for my seat. Then I noticed something—the chair at Nora's desk was still lying on the floor, overturned from the earlier commotion.
I stopped briefly.
With the tip of my shoe, I nudged the chair. A slight force from my foot—just enough to lift and set it upright, standing properly as if nothing had happened.
I released Nora's hand.
After that, I sat back down in my seat, leaning calmly against the backrest.
The whispers continued.
"Krrr—"
The entire room fell silent.
"Attention. Announcement for the student named Kurogane Akira."
Several heads immediately turned toward me.
"Kurogane Akira is requested to report to the discipline office immediately. Repeating, Kurogane Akira is requested to report to the discipline office."
The announcement cut off.
Silence fell—heavy and awkward.
I stood up from my seat. The chair legs scraped softly, but the sound echoed clearly in the frozen classroom. I had only taken two steps when a small tug caught my jacket.
Weak… but unmistakable.
I stopped.
Nora was gripping the edge of my jacket. Her fingers trembled, her eyes fixed on the floor, as if afraid to meet my gaze. Her breathing was uneven, as though she had already imagined the worst.
I didn't turn around.
In a low voice, I said,"Don't worry."
Her grip loosened slowly.
I continued walking out of the classroom, leaving the whispers to rise once more behind me, while Nora remained seated—watching my back until the door finally closed.