Chapter 25: SECRETS BEHIND THE FILES

Night had grown late when Kai stepped out of the bathroom. Steam was still rising from his body, carrying the scent of cheap soap that had become a habit over the years. Under the dim, flickering light on the ceiling, the scars on his chest were clearly visible—a gunshot wound on his left shoulder forming a small circle with wrinkled skin around it, a knife slash on his stomach creating a long line from his ribs to his waist, and a burn mark on his right chest that made his skin look like burnt paper. His wet hair dripped water down his back, flowing between his scars like small rivers running through valleys on his body.

From the sofa in the living room, he grabbed an old towel lying at its edge—a dull gray towel with threads starting to come loose at the edges. Its texture was rough, washed too many times, almost like fine sandpaper that stung against his still-damp skin. But Kai was used to it. He dried his body with quick movements, then tossed the towel into the laundry basket. It landed on the basket’s edge, half-falling to the floor. Kai didn’t care. No one would see it. No one would scold him.

The old wooden floor creaked under his steps. That familiar creak sound—the background music of his life for the past two years. A reminder that he was still alive, that he still existed, that he was still breathing even though he often wondered why. The walls of his apartment were painted a dull white that was peeling in several places, revealing the gray concrete beneath. In the corner of the room, piles of old newspapers and empty bottles were scattered like remnants of a disorganized life.

He walked toward the old cream-colored fridge. Its door tilted slightly from being slammed too often, its hinges rusted. A creaking sound echoed every time the door was opened or closed. The paint was peeling in several places, revealing rusted metal underneath. Kai opened it slowly, very slowly, so the old hinges wouldn’t come loose. From the bottom shelf, he took a can of his favorite drink. The cold spread from his palm. He closed the fridge door carefully and walked toward the sofa.

That sofa had become part of him over the past two years—the place he slept, the place he played Russian roulette, the place he stared at the ceiling while wondering why he was still alive. The sofa wasn’t comfortable. Its springs were starting to poke through in several places, creating bumps that pressed against his back every time he lay down. The cushions were flattened, having lost their original shape. There was a dried coffee stain on the armrest. But Kai was used to discomfort, just as he was used to everything imperfect in his life.

But tonight, there was something different on the table in front of him.

Among the piles of paper and empty bottles, there was a thick cream-colored file that hadn’t been there before. Its cover was clean, without stains or crease marks. No sender’s name, no stamp, no identifying marks of any kind. Just one word on the front, written in thick black ink: SECRETS.

Kai stopped. His eyes locked onto the file. His hand holding the drink can froze in midair. A strange feeling started creeping into his chest—something telling him this file was no ordinary thing. He set his drink can down on the table, on the right corner, away from the other piles of paper. Then he sat down on the sofa with slow movements. The springs beneath him creaked softly. His eyes were still fixed on the file. His hand reached out, grabbing it.

The file felt heavy—not physically heavy, but heavy with meaning. There was a weight inside it he couldn’t explain. He opened the cover slowly, his fingers moving carefully, like he was opening something fragile. Inside, there were six sheets of paper arranged neatly.

Kai stared at them. Small photos were displayed in the corner of each sheet. He recognized those faces. They were the six additional students who had joined the basketball and volleyball teams yesterday. The girls who came hesitantly. Who admitted they’d never been taught sports. Who said they were always the last ones picked.

He read them one by one. Name. Age. Address. Academic grades. Small notes from previous teachers.

"This student is often absent because she has to help her parents at home."

"Sports grades below average because she never attends practical lessons."

"The PE teacher noted that this student has no athletic talent."

"Recommended not to be included in extracurricular activities."

One of the notes was written in red ink—ink different from the others, more striking: "This student is unfit to participate in sports activities due to physical and mental limitations."

Kai closed the file. His fingers were still pressed against the rough cover. His chest felt tight. All this time they’d been excluded. Not because they couldn’t, but because no one wanted to teach them. They were never given a chance. They were always ignored. They were always considered incapable, without ever being given the chance to prove they could.

He set the file on the table, next to his drink can. Then he leaned his back against the sofa and tilted his head back. His eyes stared at the cracked ceiling. "What really happened all this time?" he murmured softly in the silent room. Only the irregular ticking of the wall clock answered. Outside the window, the night wind blew, carrying the sound of rustling leaves.

He wouldn’t let that happen again. He would give them the chance they never got. He would be the teacher they needed. Kai reached for his drink can, opened it, and took a slow sip. The sweet taste spread across his tongue. But this time, it tasted different. There was something behind that taste—determination. The desire to do more. The desire to become better.

Morning sunlight started sneaking in through the gaps in the worn-out curtains. Golden rays fell right on Kai’s face, waking him from sleep. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t dream about fire and blood. Just peaceful silence. Just real rest. He sat up straight, stretching on the sofa. His eyes unintentionally landed on the cabinet in the corner of the room—where the old revolver was buried under a pile of dirty laundry. The revolver that used to accompany his lonely nights. The revolver that always went "click" instead of "bang." Now, that revolver no longer caught his attention. Something had changed in him. Something was growing in his heart—something stronger than guilt, something bigger than regret.

Today is going to be a good day, he thought. I can feel it.

In the bathroom, cold water flowed from the old faucet. He washed his face, letting the cold water refresh his skin. He stared at the mirror. A twenty-four-year-old man with black hair that was starting to look neat, eyes that were no longer sunken, and a thin scar on his left cheek stared back. There was a change there. Something he didn’t recognize—but he liked it.

He put on the black jacket hanging behind the door. Still wrinkled. Still full of creases on the sleeves and back. A button was starting to come loose at the bottom, almost falling off. But he didn’t care as much. He was starting to accept that he would never look like a perfectly neat teacher. He straightened his red tie, pulling it into the right position. The knot this time was centered perfectly. He was learning from his past mistakes. And that was something he’d never done before—learn from mistakes without having to pay with life or blood. He grabbed his old backpack, peeling in several places, its shoulder strap starting to break on one side. He checked its contents—an old leather wallet with a few bills, a rusted apartment key, an old phone, and an alarm clock he’d properly turned off. No more embarrassing incidents like a few days ago. He put everything into the bag, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and walked toward the door.

Outside, the morning air was still fresh and cool. A thin layer of dew still clung to the wild grass by the roadside, sparkling under the morning sunlight like diamonds scattered across the green. Kai walked along the sidewalk with lighter steps than usual. He passed the bakery that emitted a fragrant aroma, passed the small garden with flowers starting to bloom, passed children playing cheerfully. A woman smiled at him from a park bench. An old man nodded at him from his porch. Everything felt beautiful. Everything felt alive.

Upon arriving at the gates of Phoenix Academy, Leina’s voice greeted him. "Good morning, Mr. Kai."

Kai turned. Leina stood by the gate with an unusual expression. Usually, her face was always filled with a warm smile that brightened the morning. But this morning, that smile was gone. All that remained was a serious expression—her eyebrows slightly furrowed, her eyes looking darker than usual. "Good morning too, Ms. Leina," Kai replied. "What’s wrong?"

"Have you heard the news, Mr. Kai?" Leina asked.

"What news, Ms. Leina? I haven’t received any information this morning."

"I heard there’s going to be a new teacher coming to this school. But my sister’s face didn’t look happy. I know my sister well. When she looks like that, usually something’s wrong. I thought maybe you knew something."

Kai felt a strange feeling creeping into his chest. But he couldn’t show his unease in front of Leina. "Sorry, Ms. Leina. I’m hearing this for the first time too. I don’t know anything about a new teacher. Maybe it’s just a rumor."

Leina sighed. "Oh, alright, Sir. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you for the information, Ms. Leina. I’ll ask Ms. Reina about it later."

Kai walked toward the school building with faster steps. His mind was in chaos. A new teacher? Why didn’t Reina tell me? What’s behind all this? He climbed the stairs to the second floor, passing through the corridor that was starting to get busy. Upon reaching the door of Class IX-9, he stopped, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The students were already sitting neatly at their desks, waiting for him. No one was talking. All eyes were on him. The atmosphere in the room felt more serious than usual. Even Mira, who was usually cheerful, now sat quietly. "Stand! Greet the teacher!" Ella’s voice broke the silence. All the students stood up in unison. "Good morning, Sir!" they called out.

Kai walked to the front of the class, setting his things down on the teacher’s desk. "Good morning, everyone. Please sit down." They sat down in unison. Kai felt warmth in his chest. They were really waiting for him. They truly respected him.

"Today we’re learning math," he said. "Linear equations in one variable." He picked up the chalk and wrote on the blackboard. His handwriting was neat and clear—no longer as stiff as before. *2x + 3 = 7*. "Who knows the value of x?"

Aria raised her hand hesitantly. "Four, Sir?"

"How did you get that?"

Aria paused, searching for words. "I... moved 3 to the right, so 2x = 7 - 3, then 2x = 4, so x = 4 divided by 2, so x = 2. I mean... x = 2?"

"Exactly right, Aria!" Kai smiled. "Very good." The praise made Aria smile. Her usually anxious face now looked calmer. Mira raised her hand, wanting to try the next problem. Kai wrote a new equation. *3x - 5 = 10*. "3x = 10 + 5, so 3x = 15, x = 15 divided by 3, so x = 5!" Mira exclaimed. "Exactly right, Mira!"

The lesson continued. Kai gave more examples, explaining patiently. He explained how to move terms, how to divide by coefficients, how to check answers. The students started feeling more confident. The classroom atmosphere felt alive. Laughter and conversations started to be heard among them.

"Mr. Kai," Rin asked curiously. "Why are you so patient when teaching? The previous teachers just gave assignments and left."

Kai paused for a moment. "Because I believe all of you can learn. I don’t like seeing anyone left behind. I prefer helping them understand."

"But aren’t you tired? Explaining the same thing over and over?"

"No," Kai answered sincerely. "Because every time I see you understand, it makes me happy." The students fell silent, feeling the sincerity in Kai’s words. Some of them looked down, hiding tears starting to well up in their eyes. No one had ever said anything like that to them before.

The break bell rang. Kai gathered his students. "We’re going to practice. But first, I want to invite the six additional students who joined yesterday. They’re also part of our team. Wait for me on the field." "Yes, Sir!" they called out.

Kai walked toward Class 2-2. His mind was still filled with his conversation with Leina this morning—about the new teacher, about Reina’s unhappy face. But he pushed all that aside. His focus now was on those six additional students. But on the way, he saw something. Under the shade of an old banyan tree, six students sat in a circle. The tree’s leaves were dense, creating a canopy that protected them from the morning sunlight. They were chatting in soft voices, occasionally looking around cautiously, as if afraid of being overheard.

Kai recognized them. They were the six additional students. He was about to approach, but a sentence made him stop. "Do we have to help that class again today?" The voice came from a girl with long dark blue hair reaching her waist. Her hair fell softly, cascading down her back like a calm waterfall. Her fingers nervously played with the ends of her hair. Her eyes looked hesitant.

"But if we don’t help again, we could lose this golden opportunity," replied another student. This girl had straight shoulder-length hair, dark gray with a hint of silver at the tips. Her eyes were sharp and full of determination.

"But you’ve seen it yourselves, right?" a third girl continued in a trembling voice. Her hair was tied in a neat ponytail with a red ribbon at the back. Her face showed fear. "We only helped them for one day, and we’re already being avoided in class. Our friends said we’re crazy for helping a cast-off class."

Kai, listening from behind the tree, felt his chest tighten. They’re being avoided because they helped my class. They’re being excluded by their own classmates. And they still came yesterday, even though they knew the risk. "But if we don’t do it, we’ll stay like this forever," said the fourth girl with round glasses and two pigtails on the sides of her head. Her eyes behind her glasses showed a spirit that couldn’t be extinguished. "We’ll never have another chance. We’ve been given a chance, and we have to take it."

"I agree," added the fifth girl, also with pigtails. "We already promised Mr. Kai. We can’t break our promise."

Kai was surprised. They promised me. They’re willing to be excluded to help my team. And I didn’t know any of this until now. But before he could decide what to do, a soft but firm voice from the sixth girl made everyone fall silent.

"Don’t you see the teacher who trained us yesterday?" The girl had straight, loose hair with a hairpin on the left side—a simple silver pin with a small flower pattern at its end. Her eyes were calm and deep, like a lake that never rippled. A small smile on her lips showed she knew something others didn’t.

"That teacher... sincerely taught us how to join the competition," she continued. "We’ve never joined any competition because we were never taught how. We were always ignored. But yesterday, for the first time, someone taught us patiently. Someone believed we could." Hearing that, the other students fell silent, trying to process her words.

"Now is our chance," the girl with the hairpin continued. "Our chance to prove those teachers who ignored us wrong. We’ll prove they were wrong. We’ll prove we can do anything if given the chance."

"Right!" exclaimed the short-haired girl, her eyes sparkling with new spirit. "We’ll prove they were wrong!"

"Let’s make them regret it!" added the waist-length-haired girl.

"With them, I feel like we can win too," replied the girl with glasses. The other students nodded in agreement.

"Then we need to get to the field right away," said the girl with the hairpin. "They’ve probably already started training without us. Let’s go!"

They stood up and hurried toward the field. Their steps were light and full of spirit, leaving footprints on the grass still damp with morning dew. Kai was still standing behind the tree, not moving. He’d heard everything. They’re willing to be excluded to help me. They believe in me. And I didn’t know any of this until now. Guilt started creeping into his chest—not because he’d done something wrong, but because he hadn’t realized how great their sacrifice was.

But on the other hand, another feeling was starting to grow in his heart—pride, deep gratitude. They believe in me. They believe I can help them. "Seems like I don’t need to call them," he murmured softly. "They’ve already chosen to come on their own. They’ve already decided to join. They’ve already shown they’re part of this team." A small smile formed on his face. "That’s why I can’t betray their trust. I have to be the teacher they need. I have to make sure they don’t regret their decision."

He looked toward where the six students had disappeared. In his heart, a burning determination was growing. Determination to become better. Determination to protect them. Determination to prove their trust wasn’t in vain. Kai took a deep breath, feeling the fresh morning air fill his lungs. He stepped out from behind the tree, walking toward the training field with steady steps.

Ahead, the sounds of laughter and conversation started to be heard. The students had already gathered—the nine from Class IX-9, and the six girls who chose to join. They were all waiting for him with spirits that never faded. Kai smiled. A genuine smile. A smile that came from the deepest part of his heart. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But one thing he knew—he wasn’t alone.