Chapter 1
980words
"Lucy, go fetch us some chilled Fiji water," Vivian ordered from the shade, her designer athletic wear pristine as she lounged with her "Cherry Blossom Club" cronies. They watched me with predatory smiles, eager for their daily entertainment.
"Move it! What's taking so long?" One of her minions shoved me forward. "Want our precious Vivi to collapse from dehydration?"
I pocketed the crumpled bills they'd tossed at me and jogged toward the distant convenience store. By the time I returned with the bottles of cold water, sweat stung my eyes. Just as I reached the shade, my foot caught on something—deliberately extended in my path.
"Ah!"
I crashed forward, bottles shattering on impact. Glass and ice water exploded everywhere as my palms and knees slammed into the ground. Blood welled instantly from the cuts, mixing with dirty water and mud.
"My shoes!" Vivian's shriek drowned out my gasp of pain. She pointed at barely visible water droplets on her sneakers. "Watch where you're going! Did you do that on purpose? These are limited edition. As if you could ever afford to replace them."
"I'm sorry... it was an accident..." I winced, trying to stand despite the searing pain.
"Sorry doesn't cut it." One of her followers shoved me back down. "As if someone like you could ever afford to make this right!"
Another girl whipped out her phone, eagerly snapping photos of me sprawled in the mud, bleeding and soaked. "Check it out, everyone! This is what happens when you mess with Vivi!"
A crowd formed around us, their faces a blur of morbid curiosity. Not one stepped forward to help. Vivian stood with arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she towered over me.
"Tell you what," she said with mock generosity, "I'll let the shoes slide. Just get on all fours and bark. Apologize to everyone and swear you didn't mean to hurt me. Then we're square."
Cruel laughter rippled through the crowd.
I snapped my head up. Through the haze of sweat and tears, their malicious faces came into sharp focus. Ice-cold fury surged through my veins. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
"I'm. So. Sorry." Each word scraped through my clenched teeth like broken glass. I pushed myself up and limped toward the infirmary, their jeers of "coward" and "pathetic" chasing me across the field.
In the infirmary, as the nurse applied antiseptic to my cuts, I quietly took photos of my bleeding knees and torn, stained pants with my old phone.
When I got home, Rachel's thunderous voice hit me before I'd even closed the door.
"Lucy! What is wrong with you? I sent you to school to look after Vivi, not cause problems! And her shoes—do you have any idea how much those cost?" Rachel jabbed her finger at my face, spittle flying.
"She tripped me..." I attempted to explain.
"Shut it! Vivi would never do such a thing. You're just clumsy!" She cut me off. "And how exactly would you pay for any damages? From now on, you'll make Vivi's breakfast, take notes for her, carry her backpack—maybe then you'll learn some responsibility! Got it?"
My father Gregory, typically silent during these tirades, merely sighed. "Lucy, just do as your mother says. Try to get along with your sister."
I lowered my gaze and went quiet. In this household, explanation was insolence, and resistance was treason.
At dinner, Vivian delicately ate imported berries, her voice dripping with fake concern: "Mom, don't be too hard on Lucy. I'm sure she didn't mean it. It's just... she doesn't really have friends at school. She's always by herself."
Rachel immediately shot me a glare. "What's with that face? Ungrateful much?"
I silently spooned plain rice into my mouth, each tasteless grain like sawdust.
Late that night, curled up in my damp storage room with its narrow cot and cluttered boxes, I waited until the house fell silent. Only then did I power up my ancient laptop, its fan whirring loudly as it caught the neighbor's weak Wi-Fi signal.
The screen's blue glow illuminated my face—my beacon of hope in the darkness. I browsed through English-language tech forums, devouring every scrap of programming knowledge I could find. A pop-up appeared: an anonymous platform offering Bitcoin rewards for completing technical challenges.
My pulse quickened. This could be my ticket to freedom.
With trembling fingers, I created an account with a single codename: Shadow.
Shadow's first attempt failed. So did the second. The platform's challenges were far more complex than I'd anticipated.
But I refused to quit. By day, I remained Vivian's silent shadow—fetching her water, copying her notes, enduring the constant torment from her and her posse. They trashed my textbooks and scrawled slurs across my desk.
By night, I lost myself in code—researching, analyzing, trying again and again. The storage room was stifling, my laptop constantly threatening to die, but the fire inside me only grew hotter.
On my third attempt at finding system vulnerabilities, I finally broke through!
I stared at the Bitcoin balance in my encrypted wallet—enough to cover months of expenses—and pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle a cry of joy. Tears streamed down my face, but for once, they weren't born of shame. They were tears of hope.
I took on more tasks, my skills sharpening with each challenge. "Shadow" began appearing on leaderboards for high-difficulty assignments. I converted my earnings through secure channels, distributing them across multiple anonymous accounts.
With my earnings, I quietly purchased a few quality but understated clothes to replace my threadbare wardrobe. I upgraded to a decent second-hand phone and bought my own wireless network adapter.
I still kept quiet, but when no one was watching, my shoulders squared and my spine straightened.
