Memoirs of the Lost Loser

Fruit

"Ma'am if you would reconsider-"

"Miss, your understanding is just not cutting it. You write... lazily average, and know that I'm being generous here..." the woman in her 50s showed her resignation in a long sigh. Even you're tired of your incessant begging about this paper you were assigned for the final term.

It's enough to give you a doctorate, but no honors. That's it."

And you thought the shameless begging and squatting outside her office won't do you any good...

"Then I'm in for a graduation waiting list?" You felt giddy. Are you finally gonna get out of this hellhole?

"You sure are—"

"Shit— for real?" Your heart could stop any moment. Master has given Dobby as sock...

"Language." The old Bretina told you off before having this smug expression on her face.

"But yes. It's real." Dobby is fina-fucking-lly freee!

"You haven't checked the bulletin young miss?"

"No, not yet."

"You'll graduate, that's a no-brainer." The old lady teased, as she glanced your ID. "Your parents weren't legends just because. Tell them I say hi."

You smiled with a sigh. You knew about your parents' 'legendary-ness', okay? You've heard their story since you were 8 and it's still going on every. family. dinner. You've memorized the starry eyes, looking at a distance that is the ceiling fan, reminiscing how they confronted the school management of as they led thousands of students.

Pretty epic story actually. Got them a book deal after.

But it gets dull when you're hearing it since 8 years old.

You pursed your lips in a small smile, one foot turned to the door. You gathered your shame nest in front of their office, and bowed over and over until you're out of sight.

***

Almost midnight, the hallway to your apartment was quieter than its day counterpart. Another day, another day, you thought, removing the messenger bag that seemed to hate you more than usual, thanks to that strain in your shoulder. You have a list in your head: the manga just beside your pillows, waiting for you, tempting you to skip the yoga and shower you do as nightly routine. With what was left of your self discipline, you mustered to finish those two more tasks and hopped on to the latest chapter when the main character becomes a giant spine or centipede... you don't even know. All while his shorter minions stomped everything and everyone below.

It wasn't delightful, no, it felt horrible.

But satisfying as fuck.

You mean— how could you not? genocide can't be romanticized howsoever but all those years— a century those people in that little, tiny island gets chomped down like peanuts and they don't even know why! They're so cornered that they even thought they're the only human race in the world and every else outside the walls will eat them! Besides, besides, the titans are not even at fault here, the Marleyan government are! Paradisian-Eldian people were also victims here! The fault of a king once upon a time, shouldn't be pinned on, and shouldn't be passed down to his clueless subjects! Would you punish an oblivious race for the sins of their king?

Genocide is just plain wrong... but damn, it's satisfying seeing their accusers get what they deserve!

Why didn't Jane Austen and Conan Doyle think about this?