Wednesday morning, my locker decided to ruin my life again.
I'd just managed to pry it open after the third attempt, when a neatly folded slip of paper drifted to the floor, landing at my feet like an unwanted love letter.
I picked it up, scanned the words, and immediately regretted every life choice I'd ever made.
"Congratulations! You've been selected for orientation to the Silver Society. Thursday, 7 PM, Main Building Hall C. Attendance mandatory."
I squinted at the paper like it had just insulted my intelligence.
The Silver Society was this school's worst-kept secret. It wasn't a club; it was an invitation-only human zoo. Members got special privileges, fancy connections, and probably a handbook on how to look effortlessly rich without actually trying.
Translation: it was exactly the kind of thing I'd been trained my whole former life to recognize—and avoid like the plague.
My heart did a confused little dance between dread and curiosity.
Was this a joke? A trap? A typo?
Whatever it was, there was no way they'd meant me. I was the girl with no file, no background check, no record of existing outside the lunch line.
But the note didn't magically burst into flames. It stayed annoyingly intact, neatly mocking me from between my fingers.
So, okay. Fine. Maybe I'd go.
Not because I wanted to. Just… to see how long it took before security politely escorted me out.
Thursday evening, I stood in front of the polished wooden doors of Hall C, trying not to hyperventilate.
I'd done my best to dress "smart casual"—which meant my least-wrinkled uniform, shoes I'd cleaned with an old toothbrush, and just enough gloss to look intentionally put together rather than desperately panicked.
Inside, everything was predictably posh. Soft lights, high ceilings, expensive air that smelled faintly of fresh paint and old money.
Fifteen other students were scattered around, making small talk, politely laughing, and pretending not to measure each other's worth.
I wandered towards a discreetly placed snack table, mainly because food seemed less judgmental than people.
Rayan stood nearby, eyeing a tiny sandwich with suspicion.
— "Think they're poisoned?" I asked.
He glanced sideways.— "Probably. Slow-acting social poison."
I smiled despite myself, picking up a grape.— "Guess I'll take my chances."
A woman appeared then, smiling with the charm of someone who'd never had to worry about student loans.She clapped her hands once, lightly, commanding attention without effort.
— "Welcome, everyone. You're all here tonight because you're exceptional."
Her eyes lingered on me for just a second too long.
— "Or you're becoming exceptional."
Ouch. Subtle.
— "Tonight isn't about proving you belong," she continued. "If you're here, you already do."
Well, now she was just lying straight to my face. But at least the sandwiches looked edible.
After a brief introduction, we split into groups, because obviously my nightmare wasn't complete without forced interaction.
I found myself standing beside Haeun, Yuri, and a senior boy named Minjoon, who looked like he'd just walked out of an ad for designer suits and emotional detachment.
We were given a prompt: "Your Society colleague has caused a scandal. How do you handle it?"
Minjoon jumped in immediately.
— "Minimize damage. Control the narrative."
Haeun smiled coolly.— "Replace them discreetly. Reputation over loyalty."
Yuri hesitated, then shrugged.— "Honestly, pretend they never existed. Easy."
Then they all looked at me.
I raised an eyebrow.— "Why not just… help them?"
They stared like I'd suggested sacrificing a goat.
— "Help them?" Haeun repeated, tone flat.
— "Yeah, you know, fix the problem instead of burying it."
She tilted her head slightly.— "Sweet. Completely impractical. But sweet."
— "Maybe," I said, holding her gaze. "But if loyalty's completely impractical, what's the point of this fancy secret handshake club?"
No one responded.
Haeun's expression stayed neutral, but her eyes sharpened just enough to let me know I'd hit something soft and sensitive.
Good.
Minjoon finally coughed.— "Right. Well. Let's write down containment strategies."
But the tension stayed, thick and quiet.
I took a tiny bite of sandwich and chewed smugly.At least the snacks were good.
The session ended with polite nods and exchanged numbers. A few students hovered, looking for the right people to approach. I was definitely not one of those people.
Yuri slipped past, whispering quietly:— "Careful, Nina. Not everyone likes honest answers."
I shrugged lightly.— "Guess they'll learn to avoid asking."
She gave me a look, half-smile, half-warning, and walked away.
I moved towards the exit slowly, waiting until the room emptied. Not because I was savoring the atmosphere. Just because I wasn't sure I trusted my knees yet.
Finally, it was just me, the fading scent of expensive cologne, and the quiet hum of hidden air vents.
On my way out, something caught my eye—a small administrative room down the hall, door slightly ajar. Inside, dim lights illuminated a neat desk stacked with files.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I stepped in quietly, glancing quickly through the labeled folders, looking for my name.
Lee, Kang, Kim… no Lee Nina.
Of course not. Because officially, I still didn't exist.
A sound echoed from the corridor. Footsteps.
I spun around, heart thumping wildly.
But no one appeared. Just distant, fading echoes.
I let out a breath, feeling suddenly exhausted.
I was tired of being the shadow at the back of the room.Tired of living off scraps of attention.Tired of waiting for permission to exist.
I straightened my shoulders, closed the door softly, and walked out, heels clicking on polished marble.
Maybe I'd never have a seat at their table. Maybe I'd never even get invited again.
But I'd stood there, in their private circle, in their polished room, and they'd had to look me in the eyes and acknowledge me.