The Losers' Classroom
Hyun-ah sat alone in the empty classroom, poring over her textbook. Since she was a day behind the other students, she had to work that much harder. As class time approached, people started trickling in one by one. When a tanned blonde woman strode in boldly, Hyun-ah instinctively shrank back. Japanese women, Chinese women, Russian women—they all filed in and took their seats. Hyun-ah, dressed in her school uniform, naturally drew eyes.
"Hey, cute outfit?"
The Japanese came from somewhere nearby, leaving Hyun-ah flustered as she looked around.
"Oh? Sorry, thought you were Chinese?"
This time it was in Korean. The tanned woman plopped down in the back row, grinning ear to ear.
"Where'd you get that uniform? Guys would lose their shit seeing you in it."
"Uh... um..."
The foreigner, with her huge breasts and free-spirited clothes, was more than enough to intimidate Hyun-ah.
"Damn, it's tight in just the right places—perfect balance. Do uniform shops alter them if you ask?"
"No... I'm, uh, Korean..."
"For real? A Korean? Why the hell would a Korean come here?"
The first Japanese woman hadn't meant any malice, but the others were different.
"A Korean here?"
"You guys can just work and get by!"
Hyun-ah sensed the mood turning ugly. All eyes were on her.
"S-sorry! My mom's hospital bills... we had debt..."
She slammed her head on the desk, trembling, but surprisingly, the other prospective slaves left her alone.
"Oh, that's rough. Can't be helped."
"Guess debt sucks everywhere... makes life hell."
Hyun-ah couldn't process the sudden shift, lost in confusion. People here got mad too fast and cooled off just as quick.
"Hey, cut 'em some slack. Yeah, they're fuckin' assholes, but earlier... we had a shitty day yesterday, so tempers were up."
The blonde from the back patted Hyun-ah's shoulder.
"Some crazy bitches came by yesterday yelling that trading women should be banned, told us to fuck off back home."
"Ah..."
The blonde's Korean was spotty in places, but her swearing was smooth and natural.
"Like, why the fuck give foreigners sex rights? There were even bitches calling the lawmakers 'Chosun scum' and 'Jap cunts.'"
"Yeah... that's not right."
"Right? Fuckin' prudes with no skin in the game but nosy as hell. If we go back, we'll get stabbed or starve to death..."
Hyun-ah glanced around. The people who'd glared at her like they wanted to kill her were now chatting among themselves or cracking open textbooks for preview study. Some even nodded hello when their eyes met. Hyun-ah waved awkwardly.
"Not so bad, huh?"
The people here had different nationalities and races. But they were all society's losers, in that way.
"See that white chick? Word is she's ex-mafia. Her gang got busted by the cops, so she cashed out and flew to Korea."
"That Chinese one's a scammer who got caught—cut a deal with the government and judiciary. Even as a slave, her money's all going back to China."
Once Hyun-ah admitted she was a loser too, their hostility vanished like a lie. It was inevitable.
"Wait, so you're a high schooler? Aren't minors exempt from slavery?"
"I... did my military service..."
"Cute! Call me Noa unnie!"
Hyun-ah flushed but softly called her name. The door opened.
A woman entered—barely middle-aged, still stunningly beautiful in her beige suit. The rough-looking women shut up instantly and sat primly. Even Noa, who'd been messing with Hyun-ah moments ago, behaved.
"Oh my, you noticed me come in so quickly today? Thank you."
Her voice was warm and soft. Hyun-ah couldn't pinpoint why, but she thought of her mom.
"Alright! Let's begin. Open to page 21 of the textbook..."
Hyun-ah unfolded the printout she'd grabbed outside the classroom beforehand.
"Was there really that much reason to be disappointed?"
Yukiko spoke flatly, as if it were nothing.
"Huh?"
"The hospital bill was higher than expected, but Master's spending is too frugal. Do you really need to waver over that amount?"
I'd checked the hospital yesterday and scoured the internet today. But I couldn't find any way to cut down what she owed.
"It's just... sigh..."
I shot up from the chair and dove onto the massive bed next to me. I hugged a big pillow, rubbing my face against it to shake off the fatigue.
"Shall I call Mikoto? A person might be better than a pillow..."
"Nah. Saw her having fun with Karin earlier."
Yukiko sat lightly on the bed's edge instead. Her unreal hips nudged my leg aside.
"Well, money from my wallet isn't an issue in terms of amount. But... if I could trim it down just a bit, I thought Hyun-ah could pay it off on her own."
Her friends said she was a great student. Never out of the top ten, always gave her all. The school wasn't top-tier, but her mock exam scores were solid. If she kept at it, she could've gone to a good college and landed a high-paying job.
"Even so, compared to Master's wealth, it'd be less than a speck of dust."
"True..."
If only I could've shaved it down to a few million won. Then I could've told her, 'Selling your body isn't the answer. Think about your future and potential.'
"She's probably at that academy by now... wonder if it's okay? What's the teacher like? What if she runs into dangerous people?"
Yukiko's expression froze. Through long observation, I'd gotten good at reading her subtle shifts. That was her disdainful look. Hard to spot without scrutiny—the eyes gave it away.
"What? What!"
"Getting sentimental already. I wondered with Mikoto, but Master really is weak to immature girls."
"Hey! That's a bit much! Hyun-ah isn't that immature..."
Her chest pushed firmly against the uniform. Her face was pure and calm—innocent and kind, but not childish or immature.
"Her breasts are large. Mikoto's are too."
"She's taller than Mikoto, though."
"On second thought, it's vexing. Neither she nor Mikoto considers breasts fitting their builds..."
Yukiko's weren't small by any means. Perfectly balanced with her figure's beauty. Curves where they should be, dips where they fit. It was just that Karin's bandage-busting rack and Mikoto's otherworldly proportions set a high bar.
Hyun-ah's figure was hardly average for a high schooler either.
"Sorry. They're small..."
I stroked the deflated Yukiko.
"It's fine. Not small at all? You're the prettiest to me."
"If you like my face, I can recommend someone similar—but with big breasts and a sweet personality..."
"Nah, forget it. Anyway, know anything about Hyun-ah's academy?"
I hugged Yukiko tight. Talking other women while holding her pricked my conscience a bit. But she brought it up first—tit for tat.
I nuzzled into her back, feeling her bra strap through her clothes.
"Not much. It's run by a female professor—a former slave who parted amicably with her master. She's got savings, business savvy, and her books sell decently."
"Why'd they split?"
"Age. Sold right after the slave system started, already over thirty then."
Still, that sounded like an ideal breakup: a cherished slave and a caring master.
"Anyway, she wanted to do something helpful for society, so she opened the academy. No danger like Master imagines."
No forced contracts or scams. I sighed in relief.
"By the way, does slave academy stuff actually help? What do they even teach?"
"It helps. But not enough for her grand dreams. Especially not the early parts—plenty for her as a Korean."
"Why?"
"Slave training has a basic curriculum. Early on, it prioritizes foreign slaves adapting to Korean culture. They come knowing Korean, but not the nuances."
Even Yukiko's explanation didn't click easily. Why teach history to slaves?
"If it doesn't make sense, imagine a Japanese slave saying, 'Eh? Dokdo's obviously Japan's! How can a Korean not know? Lmao.'"
"C'mon, that's a joke. Who'd say that..."
"Real case. She died that day—killed by her man. War loss denial, no slave awareness. She was extreme, but countless women irk men with petty historical differences."
The world was full of weirdos. Education made sense to prevent that. Though it seemed pointless for Hyun-ah.
"Should I just drag her here as my slave now?"
"Lend her mom the bills with a kind smile, then collar the high schooler for your lust..."
Yukiko smiled, clenching her fist.
"Master could do it."
"Tch."
I flicked her forehead lightly.