Reborn As An Extra : I'm gonna mess up everything

Bully

"And those chosen individuals are... all of you!" he added, clapping for himself like it was the funniest thing in the world.

For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was Mirael's lonely clapping, echoing awkwardly in the empty court. His grin widened as he watched the uncomfortable silence stretch. Then, one of the bullies snapped, "Hey! What are you all staring at? Clap, you idiots!"

The shout startled everyone, and before they could think, the first-years began to clap out of fear. Their claps were slow and hesitant at first, but soon the sound filled the court.

Clap... Clap... Clap...

The sound was hollow, lifeless, as it bounced off the walls of the court. It felt wrong, but none of them dared to stop.

"Okay, okay... stop!" Mirael said, raising his hand with a laugh, as if he'd done them all a favor.

The clapping died down, but the fear didn't. For the first-years, this was only the beginning, and they knew it. The humiliation, the bullying—it was all part of the game. And in this court, there were no rules to protect them. 

"Alright," Mirael began, pacing back and forth in front of the seated students, "Let's get this started. We can't let our special guests just sit around and look so bored, can we?"

The second-years behind him snickered, the sound sharp and cruel. One of the girls, her short skirt swaying as she moved, leaned against one of the taller boys and whispered something in his ear, causing him to laugh under his breath.

Mirael clapped his hands together, his grin widening. "Bring it here," he ordered sharply.

Two of the boys, following his command, dragged out a board on wheels. They pulled it into the center of the court, positioning it in front of the group of first-years. The board had a paragraph written on it, scribbled in messy handwriting. Mirael pointed at it with a smirk.

"Alright, listen up!" he said, his voice filled with mockery. "This is a very simple song, even little kids can sing it. So, I expect all of you to sing it with enthusiasm. But don't worry, we'll give you a demonstration first."

With that, Mirael stepped back, his grin never leaving his face. "Ready, set, go!" he shouted, and two of the second-years, a boy and a girl, started singing. Mirael joined in, his voice low at first but growing louder.

When I was raped, When I was raped~

He spread my legs, He spread my legs~

He forced me, He forced me to close my eyes~

If it were few men, It'd be alright

But there were 50 to 60 men~

The song was disgusting and filled with vulgar lyrics, the kind that made your stomach turn just listening to it. But they sang it with the same seriousness as if it were some kind of holy chant. The second-year girls struck obscene poses as they sang, lifting their skirts to flash their panties or shaking their hips in exaggerated ways. The boys weren't much better, grinning and making gestures that only added to the humiliation of the moment.

The entire scene was like some twisted performance, and every action felt like a slap in the face to the first-years. It wasn't just a song — it was a way to mock them, to make them feel small and powerless.

But the first-years stayed silent. They didn't sing along, didn't react. Their faces showed fear and disgust, but they sat there, taking it, their gazes darting to one another as if trying to find a way out of the nightmare. No one dared to say a word or even move. They were trapped, forced to endure this cruel and demeaning "welcome."