They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World

Five days passed in a blur of white walls and sterile routine.

The infirmary became my world, waking to pale morning light filtering through high windows, choking down bland porridge that tasted like paste, enduring checkups from healers who prodded my arm with cold fingers and muttered about "remarkable recovery" while I sat there wishing they'd just let me leave already.

My left arm still ached when I moved it too much, the muscles weak and uncooperative, like they'd forgotten how to work together.

But it worked. The fingers bent. The grip held, even if it wasn't as strong as before.

Good enough.

On the sixth day, they cleared me.

"Take it easy," the head healer said, her tone stern as she scribbled something on her clipboard. "And if you feel any numbness or sharp pain, you come back immediately."

"Got it."

She stared at me for a long moment, then eventually she signed the discharge form and thrust it toward me.

I took the paper and left before she could change her mind.

The afternoon air hit me the moment I stepped outside, crisp and cool, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and distant rain.

After six days of recycled infirmary air, it felt like breathing for the first time.

I flexed my left hand as I walked, testing the range of motion. The bandages beneath my uniform sleeve felt tight and restrictive, but the fingers responded.

The dormitory halls were mostly empty when I arrived, classes still in session. My footsteps echoed off stone walls as I climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Kyle was already there when I pushed open our door, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his sword laid across his lap, running a whetstone along the blade in slow, methodical strokes.

He looked up immediately, eyes widening. "Jin! You're back!"

"Yeah." I closed the door behind me and dropped onto my own bed, feeling the mattress dip beneath me.

Kyle set the sword aside carefully and stood, his expression caught somewhere between relief and concern. "How's the arm?"

"Fine."

"Really?" He took a step closer, studying my face like he could read the truth there.

"It works. That's all that matters."

His frown deepened, but he didn't push. Kyle had learned over the past few days when I'd actually talk and when I'd just shut down. "Classes start again tomorrow. You coming?"

"Yeah."

"Good." His expression brightened immediately, that familiar grin spreading across his face. "It's been boring without you."

"Boring sounds nice."

"For you, maybe." He laughed and picked up his sword again, settling back into his maintenance routine.

"For the rest of us, boring means Tobias has been even more insufferable than usual. Emma keeps asking about you. And Sira, well, Sira's been Sira."

I just sighed.

The room fell into comfortable silence, broken only by the rhythmic scrape of whetstone on steel and the distant sounds of students returning from classes.

----

{The next morning}

I walked into Professor Thorne's classroom and immediately felt the weight of dozens of eyes turning toward me.

The conversations didn't stop, but they shifted, became more hushed. Students glanced at me as I passed, some curious, some indifferent, a few leaning together to whisper behind their hands.

I ignored them all and made my way to my usual seat near the middle of the room.

Kyle slid into the seat beside me a moment later, still grinning like an idiot. "Welcome back."

"Thanks."

"Seriously though, it's good to have you here." He pulled out his notebook, flipping it open to a page covered in messy notes. "I tried taking notes for you, but, uh... fair warning, my handwriting is terrible."

"I'll manage."

A few rows ahead, Emma turned in her seat, her soft brown hair catching the morning light streaming through the windows. She spotted me and her face lit up, raising one hand in a small wave.

I nodded back.

She mouthed something before turning back around.

Professor Thorne entered exactly on time, as always.

His boots clicked against the stone floor as he strode to the front of the classroom. He set his leather satchel on the desk with a heavy thud, pulled out a stack of papers, and began his lecture without preamble.

"Today we'll be discussing advanced mana circulation techniques and their applications in combat scenarios..."

His voice settled into its usual rhythm, clear, authoritative, leaving no room for questions or interruptions. I found myself relaxing slightly, letting the familiar cadence wash over me.

Everything felt... normal.

The lecture continued for nearly an hour, Thorne covering theory, demonstrating a few basic circulation patterns, calling on students to explain concepts. A few people stumbled through their answers. Emma answered perfectly when called on, as usual. Kyle barely avoided getting called out for not paying attention.

Near the end of class, Thorne set down his chalk with deliberate care, the small click against the desk somehow louder than it should have been. He turned to face us, his expression unreadable.

"One more announcement before dismissal."

The room quieted immediately. Students sat straighter, sensing something important.

Thorne's gaze swept across the classroom, lingering on various students, before finally landing on me. His eyes were sharp, assessing.

"Jin Raith."

Every head in the room turned. The whispers started again, louder this time.

I straightened slightly, keeping my expression neutral.

"Due to your absence during the practical examination, you were marked as an automatic failure for the semester."

Yeah. I know. The words sat bitter in my throat, but I didn't say them.

Someone in the back row laughed, quickly cut off when Thorne's gaze snapped toward them.

"However," Thorne continued, his voice cutting through the murmurs, "since this was the first time, and you hadn't caused any troubles throughout your time. Academy has decided to grant you a second chance. A standard re-evaluation which is applicable to all first-time defaulters."

Kyle turned to me, eyes wide.

I kept my expression neutral, hands folded on the desk in front of me.

"You will be given a solo practical examination," Thorne said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "One attempt. The parameters will differ from the standard group exam. The objective and location will be provided to you separately."

He paused, his gaze boring into me. "

"Pass, and you continue with your classmates. Fail, and you repeat the year. Understood?"

"Understood," I said.

"Good." Thorne picked up his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. "Report to the mission hall tomorrow evening for your briefing. Dismissed."

The class filed out immediately, voices rising the moment students crossed the threshold.

Kyle grabbed my shoulder the moment we made it into the corridor, his grip tight with excitement. "Dude! A second chance! That's amazing!"

"It's one shot," I said flatly, adjusting my bag strap with my right hand. "Solo. Against something they specifically designed for me."

"But it's a shot!" Kyle's enthusiasm didn't waver. "That's more than you had yesterday!"

"Yeah."

Emma caught up to us near the plaza, slightly out of breath. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones, and the sound of the fountain provided a gentle backdrop to the chaos of students moving between classes.

"Jin," she said, her voice warm with genuine relief. "That's good news. You'll pass. I know you will."

"We'll see."

Kyle slung his arm over my shoulder. "You got this. And if you need help preparing, just say so. We can run drills, whatever you need."

"I'll keep that in mind."

We walked together across the plaza, the three of us, while around us the Academy continued its normal rhythm. Students laughed and argued and rushed to their next classes.