Trapped on a Terrifying Island, This Good-for-Nothing Just Wants to Survive

Do you know about group therapy? It’s where people with similar issues gather, share their hearts out, and help each other.

After my brother went missing, I joined a psychological trauma support group and attended meetings at least once a week.

Under the guidance of several therapists, we took turns sharing our misfortunes and pains. To my surprise, many shared a similar plight – missing relatives and friends with no help from the police.

Crying out my sorrows during these sessions made me feel lighter.

I got hooked on this feeling and started attending the meetings more frequently, almost daily.

One day, the facilitator asked: “What do you think is the cause of all this suffering?”

We looked at each other, confused.

Suddenly, someone blurted out, “It’s the Kamiya family! They’re in cahoots with those useless bureaucrats, persecuting us!”

He voiced what many dared not say. Like a thunderclap, it resonated throughout the room, causing an uproar.

He passionately denounced the Kamiya family, blaming the strict rules of Kamiyamachi, frequent disappearances, and severe wealth disparity on the prestigious family.

“He’s right!” The room buzzed with agreement.

From then on, the group meetings turned into hate sessions, reminiscent of the “Two Minutes Hate” and “Hate Week” in “1984.” But our object of hatred wasn’t Goldstein but the Kamiya deity, whom we mistakenly thought was the “Big Brother.”

I later learned that the therapists were operatives of the Godslayers organization, using such means to recruit new members and cultivate zealous followers.

Day by day, brainwashing intensified my hatred for the non-existent crazed deity, leading me to kidnap his “fiancée.”

2.

In Yedomachi, the Kamiya family holds the highest social status, followed by the public officials stationed from outside the island. The officials are categorized based on their organizational structure, job responsibilities, and hierarchical positions.

They are akin to the Brahmins and Kshatriyas in the Indian caste system.

A notch below are the descendants of the Hokkaido pioneers, like my family. Despite having prisoners stripped of political rights among them, they were recognized as part of the ethnic group, so living peacefully in the town wasn’t an issue.

Then there are those funded by the former priest or willing to embrace the mainstream culture and settle in town, such as the ethnic minority, Ainu, foreigners, and mixed-race people like the Park and Endoki families.

Though sometimes rudely called outcasts, they earn respect and trust through hard work and integrity. They are like the commoners in the Joseon Dynasty who rose to “middle people” through civil examinations.

The least respected are those from the inner ring. I don’t know why they were confined behind walls, but they were often seen as filthy and unrefined, suffering divine punishment and destined to guard the forest’s demons.

I first met Fuyuki when our school started admitting students from the inner ring.

Well, her real name should be Airi Kamiya, but we didn’t know she was the priest’s daughter back then and thought she was a Goryeo villager.

She was beautiful, gentle, smart, and well-behaved, so my family liked her. Naturally, we became good friends.

Though Yedomachi had no official racial segregation, “invisible” barriers existed. Even with preferential policies for marginalized groups, discrimination couldn’t be eliminated quickly.

Children’s cruelty is more straightforward. Unfortunately, Fuyuki became a victim of school bullying.

I was tall, strong, and a class leader. In my presence, the bullies didn’t dare touch her. But when I was called away or practicing athletics, they started their torment.

They filled her desk with trash, put bugs down her collar, banged her head against the wall, and even whipped her after tying her up. Thankfully, a classmate informed me in time.

The worst incident was when some kids dragged her to the rooftop, threatening to push her off. If a janitor hadn’t arrived to lock the door, the outcome would’ve been unthinkable.

I took Fuyuki to the infirmary and treated her bleeding wounds.

“Wow, it looks serious! If it hurts, you must shout out!”

She thanked me but remained stoically silent.

“Fuyuki, you’re too frail. You need to eat more and exercise to fend off bullies! If someone hits you, hit them back, or they’ll never stop.”

“I can’t fight back… I’ll be expelled,” she replied in broken Japanese, “The villagers will be disappointed.”

“Then let’s stick together. Okay?”

She hesitated, then declined.

“Why not? Aren’t we friends?”

“Getting too close will trouble you.”

“Not that close! Like, when I run errands for the teacher, you can pretend to ask them questions. When I’m running, you can read under a nearby tree.

After school, we can do whatever, those bullies can’t control us.”

“Maybe…”

“Since you’re so smart, you’ll have to help me with homework when we get home!”

“Okay.” She smiled, no longer resistant.

3.

Thus, we spent six years together until Fuyuki suddenly left without a word, even missing graduation.

I asked the teachers, but they remained silent. Classmates already treated her as invisible and didn’t care where she went.

Returning home, I saw my parents and brother upset and pressed them for answers.

My brother, eyes red, stammered, “Fuyuki… she was taken by the priest.”

“But Fuyuki has parents! Isn’t the priest only supposed to take in orphans?”

“She caught the priest’s eye, promised to the deity,” my mother sighed deeply.

“Joking, right? That guy’s a lunatic! Why would…”

Before I could finish, my father covered my mouth, warning, “Don’t talk nonsense!”

Maybe that’s when I started despising the Kamiya family.

Later, I noticed Fuyuki only came out at night. I waited for her, but she passed by emotionlessly, silent.

Once, I couldn’t hold back and greeted her, only to receive a cold reply, “Stay away if you don’t want to die.”

I thought she betrayed our friendship, not knowing it was her way of protecting me.