Playground Justice
“Hey Ji-hye! How was your break?”
“Whoa, Se-ri! Long time no see! Yeah, it was great. You?”
“Hehe, mine too. We went skiing last week?”
“Ugh, so jealous. My dad’s always dragging me hiking even in winter.”
Seferon Academy was gradually thawing from its winter freeze, alive with the budding energy of fresh sprouts. While the high school section still lingered in biting cold, the elementary division brimmed with such youthful heat that passersby might mistake it for a sauna.
This awkward two-week school start slotted between winter and spring breaks. Most schools had merged it into one long winter vacation, but academies like Seferon clung to the old February start. To compensate, they offered non-academic activities—experiential programs to spark thoughts on future careers.
With no classes, the elementary kids treated school like a massive playground. After a month and a half apart, they exchanged greetings and unpacked their story bundles without restraint.
On the first day, homeroom teachers let the chaos slide. The real programs kicked off tomorrow; today was just announcements, no rigid schedule. The pure-hearted children’s minds were fixed solely on recess—rushing out for snowball fights.
“Is that kid late? Just strolling into the field now.”
“Where, where?”
“Waaay over there, coming in the back gate.”
“Huh. Who is it?”
Tardiness was unthinkable at Seferon Academy. So, natural curiosity zeroed in on the lone figure ambling across the field.
“Okay, kids, quiet down and take your seats. There’s a transfer interview in Room 126 on the first floor’s multipurpose area from 11 to noon, so stay away from there. Got it?”
““Yeeees!””
“Teacher, what’s a transfer?”
“It means switching to our academy mid-year. They have to pass the same tests as you guys, so today’s the interview.”
“Teacher, we’re getting a new student? What grade?”
“Can’t say until they pass.”
Ding-dong-dang-dong. The first-year Class A homeroom teacher reminded them to play carefully during break, reiterating no approaching Room 126 as the bell rang.
“She looked super young. Not our grade, right?”
“Yeah? Then maybe transferring to second year?”
“Wanna sneak a peek? We might catch a glimpse.”
“No way! Teacher said points deduction.”
While Se-ri buzzed with excitement over the unconfirmed transfer student, Ji-hye calmly reined her in. Still, even Ji-hye couldn’t quell her curiosity about the rumored newbie.
“Seriously? Our class teacher didn’t mention it.”
“Room 126’s off-limits usually, so probably.”
“What do they look like? Boy or girl?”
Not just Class A—the transfer buzz electrified all first-graders. Rumors flew: daughter of a famous overseas royal family studying abroad, or a spy from some obscure crime syndicate on a secret mission!
In the 10 minutes of break, kids flexed their creativity, theorizing her identity.
With homeroom teachers summoned to the auditorium for career program briefings, Class A’s action captain Han Se-ri boldly declared she’d unmask the transfer student herself—and dragged her sidekick along. Ji-hye got roped in helplessly.
“Se-ri, fourth period’s self-study. Teacher said stay in class till the bell. What if we get caught?”
“It’s fine. All teachers are at the auditorium.”
“We’ve waited 30 minutes already...”
“Shh! You’ll blow it! Oh? Someone’s coming out! Hide, hide!”
Points be damned—Se-ri’s curiosity won out.
“That’s her, right? You see?”
“Too far. Wait, now I do! So, what now? Actually talk to her?”
“Duh! Why else wait?”
“Ugh, I’m out!”
Without hesitation, Se-ri charged the back gate. Ji-hye sprinted to catch up, but Se-ri was already face-to-face.
“Hi! I’m Se-ri! Han Se-ri!”
“...?”
“Hi! I’m Se-ri! Han Se-ri!”
“No need to say it twice. Do we know each other?”
“Nope, first time!”
“Ah. Student here?”
“Huff... huff... Se-ri, you dropped your scarf.”
“Whoa, when? Thanks!”
“Um, hi...? I’m Ji-hye.”
Finally catching up, Ji-hye handed over the scarf and introduced herself. The transfer student was tinier and more delicate than imagined—head shorter than tall Se-ri. Unlike Se-ri’s curly golden retriever-like blonde locks and blue eyes from her mixed heritage, the newbie had straight black hair like Ji-hye’s, hinting Korean roots, yet an exotic aura lingered.
“I’m Han Se-ri, first-year at Seferon Academy! This is my friend Ma Ji-hye. You transferring here? What’s your name?”
Despite Se-ri’s golden retriever enthusiasm, the transfer student ignored her and walked on.
“Wha... huh...?”
“She just... left?”
Unimaginable to be snubbed, Se-ri’s jaw dropped.
“Yeah, she did...”
They stared, hoping she’d turn back, but no dice. All they caught was her pulling a headband from her pocket, neatly tying her hair into twintails as she vanished.
* * *
Isn’t it said that sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic? The same holds for brainwashing spells so advanced they blur with reality.
Especially in this barbaric era where magic ethics are dogshit—black magic’s so rampant, even stray cats could wield it without joke.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m not reincarnating but trapped in a powerful hypnosis. Brain in a vat, y’know.
But facing raw reality always sinks those thoughts into the abyss.
“Hey, big sis! Mom says if you don’t live here, no playing!”
“Who made that rule?”
“Umm... dunno? Hold on, I’ll ask bro!”
The world advances relentlessly. Humanity tames fire, slays mammoths and wyverns. Nations form, conquests rage. Slavery ends; democracy rises on liberty and equality.
Mana refines endlessly, magic evolves. Now, with rational controls, is this a brave new world?
“Hey, where’s your house?”
“...”
“New face in the complex? Outsiders banned. Play elsewhere.”
“Apartment 102, Unit 3903.”
“Oh, yeah? Fine, have fun then.”
The world advances on human selfishness—a force that won’t vanish till extinction. As long as money and fame drive progress, capitalism and power hierarchies persist, tragically.
Botched academy interview, no one to hang with at home, capsule login? Nah. Such a day. Swinging my legs on the swing, chasing that kid-like feeling, but malaise lingered.
“Get lost, you bum!”
“Eww, stinky!”
See? No clear good or evil here. Reasons abound for banning outsiders from this affluent complex’s playground: hard to pin vandalism on them, or adult house-price drama.
Kids get prime play spots under adult oversight, but that innocent intruder kid now eats shit for wandering in.
Kids join in or ignore; adults spectate.
“Aaaah!!!”
“Scram already! Go home!”
Disgusting. Yeah, disgusting. I’d pondered this funk, but it clicked—forgotten from ages ago.
What if a hero party, destined to slay the Demon King, everywhere faces their backers extorting peasants? Sacrifice the common folk for the greater good? Or ignore border deaths for immediate relief?
How’d they handle it...?
“Hey, what’s your deal? Why hit a kid!”
Revulsion peaked; I hopped off the swing. But kids beat me to action.
“Who’re you?”
A grubby girl, face mud-caked, barely lifts her head. Her white dress is unrecognizable filth. Five boys, each 3-4 years older, had bullied her beyond parents’ sight.
No one intervenes—till two familiar figures from my walk home charge bravely. Those first-years.
“We live here too! Ganging up on one? Shameful! I’d bite my tongue and off myself!”
“What? Your mom teach you to talk like that?”
“Then yours taught you to bully innocents!”
No quarter in their stare-down. Vocab lacking, but spirit unyielding.
Finally, the burly leader steps up.
“Think we’re bored? She’s stubborn, won’t leave. Would’ve been fine if she split nicely.”
“No! I was... waiting for Mom! She said stay here... sob... waaah!”
“Shut your trap!”
“Hey! We said no hitting! Touch her again, you’re done!”
“Whatcha gonna do? Scrap?”
“Yeah. Not scared.”
Pure pandemonium. Rich neighborhood—no guards? Where’re the adults?
“Kyaaah!”
Se-ri, the self-proclaimed one, gets shoved rolling.
“One more peep, you’re dead.”
“Aura? You psycho... You lot lost to Ji-hye already.”
“What’re you—?”
“Die!!!”
As Se-ri falls, Ji-hye blitzes through the boys. Se-ri’s bravado? Backed by this powerhouse friend.
Ji-hye auras up legs and arms, barreling in with a body slam.
“Aaaah! Crazy bitch!”
“Die! Die!”
“Peel this freak off!”
Ignoring hits, she fixates on one. But a boy swings a thick wooden stick at her head full-force.
Seemed settled... nope.
“Enough.”
Casting: Friction Coefficient Adjustment
Gravity Coefficient Adjustment
Effects applied.
The boys lose balance, crashing down. Limbs, faces—all plastered to the ground in perfect prone position.
Time for this adult to step in.