48) Interlude. Why? (2)
During the rest of second and third year, the moment Soi looked forward to most was the end of the school day.
Most students felt that way, but for Soi, school had lost all meaning.
Because Rua wasn’t there anymore.
She had no one she could call a “friend.”
Ever since she grabbed that girl by the collar for talking behind Rua’s back, the classroom went silent whenever she walked in.
Were they scared she’d grab their collars? Or scared of what might come after?
At the very least, they must have realized something was wrong.
“…But what exactly was wrong?”
A few days later, Soi tilted her head, thinking back on what she’d done.
“I don’t know. Mom seems to know something, but she won’t tell me.”
Chae‑yi shrugged.
Violence was still violence. Even if the girl had provoked her, all she’d done was mention Rua’s name. Soi hadn’t hit her, but grabbing someone by the collar and threatening them should’ve gotten her punished.
But nothing happened.
No one threatened the school. No one pressured anyone. Even the parents who came to complain went silent.
Neither Soi nor Chae‑yi knew why.
Because the reason was outside the school.
Yujin and Dohyun weren’t the type to use their positions to intimidate others. If they were, they wouldn’t be so beloved.
They always smiled when spoken to, happily signed autographs, took pictures with citizens. You could find countless photos of them online.
Yujin wasn’t loved just because she was strong.
And because of that, she had good relationships with her colleagues.
Soi resembled her mother. Yujin also loved meeting people, smiling, making friends.
“Rua…”
One day, Yujin cried at work. Looking at a picture of Rua.
“I’m sorry…”
Not in public, but quietly, hidden in an empty meeting room. As if she didn’t want anyone to see.
She couldn’t cry at home. Rua was there—trying so hard not to cry herself. Yujin cried because Rua was too pitiful.
What had that child done wrong?
Was it her fault for bringing Rua home? Would Rua have been happier elsewhere? Had she failed to protect her when it mattered?
Yujin had never once thought of Rua as someone else’s child. Even though Rua couldn’t call them Mom and Dad, that wasn’t Rua’s fault.
She simply believed they could live together as a family, just like with Soi.
She owed Rua a debt she could never repay. She wanted to give her warmth, safety, a home.
But Rua quit school.
She said it herself. How terrible must school have been?
Yujin had met her husband at school. Many of her closest friends were from school. Her school years were her happiest memories.
So Rua’s suffering felt enormous.
“…Ah.”
A colleague happened to see her.
Yujin didn’t notice. Normally she would have, but she was too lost in grief.
Later, when she confided in another colleague, that colleague nodded seriously.
Among the many coworkers at the Association, Rua was already known as “Yujin’s daughter.” Yujin never separated Soi and Rua when showing photos.
Everyone knew Rua was adopted, but no one treated her differently.
So the story that spread among them was:
“Their second daughter was bullied at school and ended up quitting.”
And no one could deny it.
Soon, rumors spread online.
The Witch’s daughter had dropped out.
The posts didn’t describe the full story, so speculation exploded.
Many celebrated.
They said a kid with the same powers as a criminal shouldn’t attend a normal school.
They mentioned “that video.”
They said the Witch considered Rua her daughter and had attacked twice already.
They said if Rua stayed, someone would eventually get hurt.
They mentioned “that photo.”
The one where she cracked a window with her power.
They said she would’ve hurt someone eventually.
But there was backlash too.
And logically, the backlash was correct.
Was the Witch’s daughter forbidden from going to school?
Experts said of course not. That would be collective punishment.
The media spread “that video” and “that photo,” but also brought in experts—child psychologists, lawyers, criminologists—who defended Rua.
And then there were the heroes’ interviews.
Rua wasn’t just the Witch’s daughter.
She was also a hero’s daughter.
The Witch abandoned her.
A hero raised her with love.
So some argued:
This wasn’t “the Witch’s daughter dropping out.”
It was “a hero’s daughter being forced out due to bullying.”
Public opinion didn’t flip overnight. The debate had existed since the moment the Witch’s daughter appeared online.
But one thing was clear:
People had found a new villain to enjoy hating.
Not a complicated girl with a complicated story—
but a simple, easy target:
The bullies.
Even if someone is bullied, if they strike first, they lose the moral high ground.
Violence is visible. Bullying often isn’t.
But when the full story comes out, sometimes that violence becomes understandable.
One foolish parent posted online that Soi grabbed their daughter by the collar. They even mentioned the Witch.
Hundreds of comments mocked them.
Realizing their mistake, the parent deleted the post.
But once something becomes famous online, it never disappears.
*
Soi lost interest in school, but she didn’t give up on everything.
She was never late.
She studied hard.
She wasn’t top of the class, but she was near the top.
But she didn’t do anything else.
She stayed away from group activities.
She didn’t hang out with classmates unless it was Chae‑yi.
She no longer backed down when someone picked a fight.
If anyone mentioned Rua, she confronted them.
She isolated herself—but she felt she was the one rejecting the others, not the other way around.
Through all of middle school, there was only one moment she truly looked forward to:
“I’m home!”
Rua waiting at the door.
Rua must’ve been lonely too, because she always waited for Soi and Chae‑yi to return.
Soi ran straight into her arms.
She couldn’t hug Rua tightly, but she could cling to her like this.
Rua’s gentle hand stroked her hair.
Soi loved being with people.
Even if school was miserable, even if she pushed everyone away, it wasn’t easy.
“How was school?”
“It was fun.”
She answered Rua like that.
Because if she said she was struggling because of Rua, Rua would be devastated.
“I made up with the others.”
“I see. That’s good.”
Rua believed her.
Thankfully.
But even as she said it, one question remained in Soi’s heart.
Why?
Why did Rua have to go through this?
Why?
But she never asked Rua.
Because she felt that if she did, the warmth in her arms might disappear in an instant.
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