They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World Chapter 51: Who was That? [1]

The next two weeks passed in a blur of classes and empty silence.

Kyle’s bed remained empty each night. The infirmary was keeping him for observation. The healer wanted to make sure there were no complications, no internal bleeding they’d missed.

The first day, Marcus was absent too. By the second day, whispers had started circulating.

"Disciplinary hearing."

"They’re deciding his punishnt."

"He broke the rules."

On third day.

When I walked into Professor Thorne’s class.

I stopped.

Marcus was back.

He sat in his usual spot near the front, surrounded by his noble friends, looking completely at ease. No sign of guilt. No tension in his posture.

Just... normal.

Like nothing had happened.

As I passed his row, he glanced up and caught my eye.

And grinned.

That wasn’t the expression of soone who just got punished.

Professor Thorne entered exactly on ti, as always. He set his materials on the desk, scanned the room, and began his lecture without preamble.

Halfway through, he paused.

"Before we continue," Thorne said, his tone flat, "I need to address the disciplinary matter from earlier this week."

The room went silent.

Marcus straightened slightly, but his expression didn’t change.

Thorne’s gaze landed on him. "Marcus Valen. Stand."

Marcus stood smoothly, no hesitation, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier at attention.

"The disciplinary board has reviewed the incident during your unsanctioned duel with Kyle Stoneheart," Thorne continued. "Excessive force was used. Rules were violated."

A few students shifted in their seats.

Thorne’s expression didn’t shift. "Your punishnt: one additional training set per day for the next two weeks. You will report to Instructor Kael at the fifteenth bell for supervised drills."

Silence.

Then, from the front row, a noble girl laughed quietly. Another whispered sothing to his neighbor, grinning.

One extra training set.

That’s it.

My hands clenched into fists under the desk.

Marcus sat back down, his grin widening slightly as his friends clapped him on the shoulder.

Thorne resud his lecture like nothing had happened.

I barely heard the rest of the class.

Today...

Again, I was just sitting in class, taking notes.

Then the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

Students filed out, conversations resuming imdiately.

I stood, grabbing my notebook and heading for the door.

Reaching there, I saw Marcus was still near the front, talking with his friends. He glanced up as I passed, his grin never faltering.

"Raith," he called out.

I stopped, not turning around.

"Tell your friend I hope he recovers soon," He said, his tone light, almost friendly. "It’d be a sha if he couldn’t co back to class."

A few of his friends snickered.

I didn’t respond. Just stood there in the hallway, watching Marcus laugh with his friends.

My jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

Fine.

If the Academy won’t punish him properly, I will.

I pulled up Debug Vision, focusing on Marcus as he turned to leave the classroom.

[Target: Marcus Valen]

[Current velocity: 1.2 m/s]

[Ground friction: 0.72]

And there was a girl walking nearby.

I made the calculation in half a second.

Then executed.

[Minor String Edit: Ground friction beneath target’s right foot]

[0.72 → 0.15]

Marcus’s next step slipped slightly. His body compensated automatically, lurching forward to catch himself.

Straight into the noble girl walking ahead of him.

His hand shot out to steady himself, grabbing the first thing available.

Her skirt.

The fabric swayed, lifting slightly as he stumbled into her.

She yelped, spinning around, her face flushing red.

"What—?!"

Marcus’s eyes went wide. "Wait, I didn’t—"

And...

SLAP!

The sound echoed through the hallway.

"Pervert!" she shrieked, clutched her skirt, backing away from him. "Don’t you dare touch !"

"I wasn’t... it was an accident..." Marcus stamred, his face turning crimson as every head in the hallway turned toward them.

"Stay away from !" She spun on her heel and ran, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Marcus stood there, frozen, one hand on his reddening cheek, as whispers erupted around him.

"Did you see that?"

"He grabbed her skirt!"

"In broad daylight?"

"Marcus Valen? Really?"

His friends looked uncomfortable, stepping back slightly. One of them muttered sothing about needing to get to the next class and hurried off.

Marcus’s expression shifted from shock to fury. His gaze swept the hallway, searching for... sothing. Soone.

But I was already walking away, hands in my pockets, expression neutral.

Enjoy your reputation, asshole.

----

The infirmary was quiet when I arrived, the late afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows.

Kyle’s bed was empty.

Great. Where the hell did he

Then suddenly, a movent caught my eye.

Kyle stood near the far corner of the room, his back to , feet shifting in what I recognized as basic footwork patterns. His hands moved through the air, mimicking sword strikes, slow, careful, testing his range of motion.

Shadow training.

With broken ribs.

Are you fucking kidding ?

I walked over to his bed and set down the bundle I’d been carrying, bread, cheese, and an apple I’d grabbed from the dining hall. Then I approached him slowly, deliberately.

"Kyle," I said, my voice light and sweet. "My dear friend. What, exactly, are you doing?"

He froze mid-swing.

Then slowly turned around, his face going pale.

"Jin! Hey! I was just, uh..." He smiled nervously, taking a step backward. "Just stretching! You know, keeping the muscles loose. Healer said movent is good for recovery, right? Yeah. Movent. That’s all this is."

I nodded slowly, still smiling. "Uh-huh."

"Really! Just stretching!" He took another step back, hands up defensively. "I wasn’t doing anything crazy, I swear—"

I lunged.

"Wait—!"

I tackled him, carefully avoiding his ribs as I shoved him backward onto the bed.

"JIN! NO! MY RIBS! MY RIBS—!"

He flailed, rolling onto his side with an exaggerated scream that was half genuine pain, half theatrical protest.

I straightened, dusting off my hands, and sat down in the chair beside his bed.

Kyle lay there, clutching his side, glaring at . "You’re insane! You could’ve killed !"

"Serves you right," I said calmly. "Just rest."

"I was resting!"

"You were training."

"That’s basically resting!"

"No, it’s not."

Kyle groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "You’re the worst."

"And you’re an idiot."

I reached for the bundle on the bed, pulling out the apple and a small knife I’d borrowed from the dining hall. I started cutting slices, the blade making soft thunk sounds against the wooden cutting board one of the healers had left behind.

Kyle watched, his expression shifting from annoyed to interested. "Is that for ?"

"No, it’s for the other patient who keeps ignoring dical advice." I held out a slice.

He caught it eagerly, biting into it with a satisfied crunch. "You know, for soone who acts like they don’t care, you’re pretty thoughtful."

"Shut up and eat."

He grinned, chewing happily.

I cut another slice and handed it over. Kyle took it, then leaned back against the pillows, his expression more relaxed now.

"So," he said between bites. "How were classes? Did I miss anything good?"

"No."

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the soft crunch of Kyle eating and the distant murmur of voices from sowhere else in the building.

"Jin?" Kyle said eventually.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For coming by. And for the food."

I shrugged. "You’d do the sa."

"Yeah. I would."

He grinned, the expression genuine despite everything.

And for a mont, sitting there in the quiet infirmary with an idiot who’d gotten himself hospitalized defending , things almost felt... normal.

Then the door opened.

An older healer walked in, the sa stern woman who’d treated Kyle when he first arrived. She carried a clipboard and wore the standard healer’s robes, her expression all business.

Behind her, a younger woman followed.

She looked to be in her early twenties, maybe. Soft features, pale blonde hair tied back in a simple braid, wearing the white and blue robes of a healer’s assistant. Her posture was slightly hunched. Dark circles shadowed her soft blue eyes.

But her expression was gentle. Kind.

The older healer approached Kyle’s bed. "Stoneheart. How are you feeling?"

Kyle straightened slightly. "Uh, good? Better. Way better."

"Mm." She pulled back his blanket without asking, examining the bandages around his torso with practiced efficiency. "Any sharp pains? Difficulty breathing?"

"A little. But not as bad as before."

"Swelling?"

"So. But it’s going down, I think."

The assistant stood behind the healer, a small notepad in her hands. She wrote quietly, her handwriting neat and precise.

The healer pressed gently along Kyle’s ribs, watching his face for reactions. He winced twice but didn’t cry out.

"You’re healing well," she said finally, stepping back. "Better than expected, actually."

Kyle grinned. "I’m tough."

"You’re lucky." She turned to the assistant. Asking her to note all down.

"Yes, ma’am," the assistant said softly, writing it down.

Then her gaze shifted briefly, landing on .

She paused, pen hovering over the paper.

Her eyes lingered for just a second longer than necessary, studying my face like she was trying to place sothing.

Then she looked away, shaking her head slightly, and continued writing.

I noticed.

What was that?

Then suddenly, a flicker of unease settled in my chest.

The hell?

The healer finished her examination and stepped back. "Keep resting, Stoneheart. Don’t do anything stupid."

"I won’t," Kyle said, though his tone suggested he absolutely would the mont no one was watching.

The healer sighed, clearly unconvinced, and turned toward the door.

The assistant hesitated, then looked at directly.

"You’re his roommate, yes?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Please make sure he doesn’t overexert himself." Her tone was earnest, almost pleading. "He needs rest. Real rest. If he pushes too hard, the bones won’t set properly."

"I’ll try," I said.

She nodded, then paused again. Her expression shifted, sothing conflicted flickering across her face.

"How long will he have to stay here?" I asked.

She glanced at Kyle, then back at . "Soon. A few more days, if there are no complications."

Another pause.

She tilted her head slightly, studying again. "Have we... t before?"

I blinked. "No."

Her brow furrowed, uncertainty crossing her features. "I’m sorry. I must be mistaken." She offered a small, apologetic smile.

"It’s fine."

She nodded, but the uncertain look didn’t quite leave her face.

The healer called from the doorway. "Co along Aria. We have other patients."

"Yes, ma’am." She turned to follow, her footsteps soft against the stone floor.

But as she reached the door, I acted on impulse.

[Debug Vision: Active]

I focused on her retreating form, pulling up her information—

[ERROR]

[DATA CORRUPTED]

[UNABLE TO PARSE TARGET PROFILE]

The text flickered, glitching in my vision like a broken monitor.

[????? - ERROR]

Na: ????????

Class: ????????

Level: ??

???????????????????

I blinked, and the vision cut out entirely, leaving only a faint headache in its wake.

What the hell?

The assistant glanced back once more, her eyes eting mine for the briefest mont.

Then she stepped through the door and was gone.

Kyle yawned, oblivious. "She’s nice."

I didn’t respond.

My gaze stayed locked on the empty doorway.

Error. Data corrupted.

That’s never happened before.

Not once.

The unease in my chest grew heavier.

Who the hell was that?