School Story of Wandering Witches : Arche's Daily Life

I was walking down a quiet city street, it was midnight, and I couldn't sleep.

I looked around for something interesting.

And like my parents always said! It's a dangerous night for teenagers!

I was pulled into an alley, and you can guess, they were thugs. "Hey, buddy, do you have any money?"

I've seen trash like them many times.

"Again..? I'm tired of seeing trash like you.."

He pulled me, he tried to intimidate me.

"What did you say?!"

"I said, you guys, trash!" I screamed, I kicked his stomach, and made him move away from me.

I can see there are three other people.

One of them steps forward, cocky, raising his fist to throw a punch.

I simply dodge with ease, stepping to the side and using his momentum against him.

In a flash, I grab his wrist, twisting it behind his back and locking it in place.

"You really should learn not to rush," I say, using my body to pin him down.

The second one tries to come at me from behind, but he doesn't see it coming.

I turn quickly, kicking his knee and sending him stumbling back.

In one smooth move, I bring him to the ground with a judo throw.

I pin him, adjusting my position to tie his legs up.

"Hold still, you're gonna like this," I whisper with a teasing tone as I lock in a choke hold, cutting off his air supply.

Now, there's just one left. Without hesitation, he throws a wild punch at me.

I dodge once more, countering with a quick jab straight to his nose, followed by a left hook that lands square on his temple.

People who get too cocky usually don't see the second strike, and this guy sure wasn't ready.

I close the distance, landing an uppercut that sends his head snapping back, then a cross that hits him square on the chin.

He crumples to the ground, dazed, while I stand calmly, grinning.

"Is that enough?" I raise an eyebrow.

I watched as they lay sprawled on the ground, but one of them started to stir.

His face was bruised, and his body looked exhausted, but he still had one trick left.

With a frantic move, he scooped up some sand from the ground and tossed it right into my face.

Instantly, my eyes burned, and my vision blurred.

I wiped my face with my arm, struggling to regain focus through the stinging pain.

But before I could fully react, the other two moved quickly, grabbing both of my arms and pinning me in place.

I was locked down, unable to move a muscle. I snarled, trying to break free, but their strength kept me bound.

A small glimmer of hope faded as I was cornered like this.

Then, the real pain hit harder. One of the remaining thugs, his face twisted with hatred, stepped forward.

Without warning, he landed a brutal punch to my face, followed by a kick to my stomach that knocked the wind out of me.

"You think you can beat us?" he sneered, throwing more insults my way. "You're nothing but trash!"

I could only grunt in pain, blood trickling from my lip. Each punch hit me like a sledgehammer.

One landed on my cheek, whipping my head to the side, while another struck my stomach, forcing the air out of my lungs.

I coughed, blood spilling from my lips and dripping onto the ground beneath me.

My body refused to respond—my muscles were weak, only capable of enduring the relentless onslaught of pain.

The thug laughed, his voice sharp and mocking. "So, this is all you've got? Huh? Acting tough earlier, but now look at you. Just a useless rat!"

He kicked me in the ribs, making me stagger even though my arms were still held tightly by the other two.

The world around me started to fade—whether from the pain or exhaustion, I couldn't tell.

My head felt heavy, blood trickling from my temple and blurring my vision.

I had no idea how long this had been going on.

Time seemed to slow, each second dragging like an eternity, and every blow felt like the end.

"Come on! What now, hero?" He landed a hard punch to my jaw, nearly knocking me unconscious.

I could only let out a faint growl, my breathing ragged.

Fighting back was no longer an option. All I could do was hope my body was strong enough to survive this torment.

My ears were ringing, the sound of punches and their taunts blending with the relentless throb of pain coursing through my body.

But amidst the chaos, a new sound broke through—sharper, clearer. A voice shouting from a distance, "Hey! What are you doing?!"

The thugs froze in panic. I heard their frantic cries, "Police! Run!" Their footsteps stumbled as they scrambled away, leaving my battered body slumped on the ground.

I tried to open my eyes fully, but the world around me was a blur.

The streetlights above seemed hazy, and the sound of approaching footsteps felt distant, as if from another world.

Someone was coming closer. Their voice was firm, but I couldn't make out the words.

I attempted to move, to lift myself, but the pain was overwhelming, pinning me down like an anchor.

All I could do was stare up with fading vision before darkness consumed me.

My consciousness slipped away, my body succumbing to exhaustion and countless injuries.

I woke up with a heavy head and slightly blurred vision.

The unmistakable smell of antiseptic filled my nose, making me realize I was in a hospital room.

As my eyes began to focus, I looked down at my body. Nearly every part of me was covered in bandages.

Every small movement sent sharp pain shooting through my body.

"Ah, fantastic," I muttered weakly, trying to calm myself despite the obvious mess I was in.

I stared at the ceiling, piecing together what had happened.

The thugs, the relentless beating, the sound of the police... It all came back slowly, like fragments of a broken mirror.

The door to the room opened. Heavy footsteps followed, along with the faint smell of tobacco.

My father. He stepped in, wearing a suit—something I rarely ever saw him in.

He walked toward me, a lit cigarette perched between his lips, and a small smile playing on his face.

That smile, though. It was almost as if he found this whole situation amusing.

I stared at him with a mix of emotions. He said nothing, just stood there calmly, puffing on his cigarette, his eyes fixed on me. But I understood.

I understood exactly what that look meant. Without him saying a word, it was clear: What were you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

"I'm sorry," I muttered, my voice hoarse. I lowered my head slightly, though even that small movement made my neck ache. "I... I messed up. I was stupid."

He chuckled softly, his deep voice filling the room. "At least you know," he finally said, his tone calm but carrying something underneath—a mix of relief and frustration.

He pulled out a chair near my bed, sat down, and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the small table.

"You're lucky the police got there in time. If they hadn't... I don't know if I'd still have a son like you."

I said nothing, just stared down at my bandaged hands. The guilt dug deeper into me.

My father sat calmly in the chair next to my bed, leaning back as he stared at me.

His cigarette was already extinguished in the ashtray, he took a slow breath before finally speaking.

His voice was calm, almost flat, but every word felt like a thorn piercing through me. 

"You know, Arche," he began, crossing his legs while keeping his eyes locked on me, "I always knew you'd end up like this one day."

"Acting tough, thinking the world could be bent to your will just because you have strength."

He glanced at my bandaged body with a faint, unpleasant smile. "And look at the results. Impressive, isn't it?" 

I could only lower my head, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

Every word felt like a lash, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. 

"You think the world cares about your bravery? About your reasons? It doesn't."

"The world will laugh at you when you fall, just like they're probably laughing now."

"You're strong, sure. But not smart enough to know when to stop." 

My hands gripped the bedsheet, resisting the urge to argue, but what good would it do? He wasn't wrong. 

"You're lucky the police came. If they hadn't, you'd probably be lying in the dirt—or worse, in a coffin."

"And what would I tell people? 'Oh, my son died because he wanted to play street hero'?"

"Do you think that's something to be proud of?" 

I bit my lip, my eyes starting to burn. But I wouldn't cry. Not in front of him. 

"I'm not angry, Arche," he continued, his tone still level.

"I'm just disappointed. You've always had more potential than this, but you're too busy playing some brainless tough guy."

"If you keep going down this road, I'm not sure how long you'll last in this world." 

Those words hit harder than any punch those thugs had thrown at me.

He didn't yell, didn't curse, but every sentence cut deeper.

Facts I couldn't deny, no matter how much I wanted to. 

I sat there in silence, staring at my bandaged hands. There was nothing I could say to defend myself.

Because he was right. As always.

My father stood up slowly, leaving the chair he had been sitting in, and walked over to the window.

He stared out for a moment, then turned back to look at me with an unreadable expression. 

"You definitely don't want to fail your grade again, do you?" he said, looking at me. "Because of the 'hero' act..." 

"Do you remember what happened to you before?" His voice seemed to remind me of a past I could never really escape. 

I felt the same emotions as before—this time, my body felt tired and weak. 

I just stared at him, silent, without resistance. He wasn't wrong.

I recalled the incident back in middle school, when I failed to pass my grade because of my reckless, overly bold actions, and my tendency to interfere in things that didn't concern me. 

It all ended in a huge mess that only made things worse. 

My father pulled out his phone and started playing with it casually, as if what he had just said was nothing out of the ordinary. 

A few seconds later, he looked at me again, this time with a softer expression, though still carrying a serious tone. 

"Your mom will be back in a few days," he said. "I told her about your condition." 

I knew exactly how my mom was. She was always too worried about me, no matter how much I tried to convince her I was fine. 

Of course, when she hears this news, she will be shocked, worried, and will probably remind me countless times to be more careful. 

I just nodded slowly, unsure of what else to say. There was nothing I could say to convince them, because I knew I had already disappointed them. 

My father stared at me for a moment, then looked down, letting out a long sigh. 

"Take care of yourself, Arche. Your mom loves you very much. Don't waste that." His words felt like the final slap.

Suddenly, my dad's phone rang. He picked it up quickly, thinking it was an important call. 

After a few seconds, he looked at me and without saying who was on the other end, he brought the phone close to my ear.

"It's Arthur," he said shortly before stepping back, giving me space to talk.

I raised an eyebrow, a bit confused, but without saying anything, I answered the phone.

"Yo, Arthur, what's up?" I tried to sound casual, even though my body still felt wrecked.

As soon as I said my name, the voice on the other end started talking, sounding much angrier than I expected.

"Are you crazy or something?! What were you thinking, facing three guys alone like that? You could've died!"

His voice was full of anger, cut off by the speed at which he was talking, and I could hear him pacing around in the background, probably fuming.

But even though he was angry, I could recognize something in Arthur's voice.

Maybe he couldn't express his concern any other way, but I could feel it.

And strangely, it made me feel a little bit better.

Hearing his rant—like always, full of worry hidden behind harsh words—made me smile, even if just a little.

"Calm down," I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

"I'm fine, just a little… hurt." Arthur's voice got louder, impatient with my response, but I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

I felt a bit relieved, even though my body was broken, and even though my dad had just lectured me.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself even though my body still felt broken.

"Arthur," I started, my voice a little hoarse, "I won't be going to school for a while. But... please, don't tell anyone, especially Elaina, what happened to me."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

I could imagine him frowning, carefully considering my words.

Then, Arthur's voice came through again, full of teasing and anger that he couldn't hide. "You think I can just stay quiet while you almost die out there?"

I could hear his heavy breathing, as if he was really frustrated.

But I knew, underneath his anger, he would understand.

After a few long seconds, he let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. But I'm keeping an eye on you. If anything happens, I'll know."

I felt a little more relieved hearing his agreement, even though I knew he didn't like my request. "Thanks, Arthur," I replied briefly.

"What are you—"

Before he could finish, I ended the call, hanging up quickly with a single motion.

I felt a bit satisfied, though I couldn't shake the guilt that followed.

I knew Arthur was angry, and would probably find a way to learn more.

I sighed deeply, then stared at the empty hospital room wall.

My father chuckled softly after I hung up the phone, as if enjoying the silence that followed.

He then looked at me with a small smile on his face, as if thinking of something amusing. "So," he said in a teasing tone, "you made your brother worry again, huh?"

I could only look at him with a blank stare, not able to say much. I knew what he meant, and I couldn't deny it.

Arthur would definitely be worried. We've known each other since we were kids, even more than just friends.

We've been like siblings, even closer than that. Of course, he'd be worried, especially after what happened to me.

I sighed, feeling a little awkward. "Yeah, it's normal for him to worry," I replied, my voice quiet.

My father smiled wider, as if amused by our little conversation.

"You two are always like this," he said, his tone softer now. "Nothing can stop you, even when you're being this reckless."

I could only give a wry smile, feeling a little embarrassed.

After a week, I was finally able to leave the hospital.

My body still felt weak and covered in bandages, but at least I could go home.

My steps were heavy as I walked out of the car and made my way toward the house where I grew up.

As I approached the front door, I saw a figure that I hadn't seen so clearly in a while—my mother.

She was standing there, waiting with an expression of worry clearly on her face.

Her amethyst hair was neatly styled, and her yellow eyes radiated deep concern.

The moment she saw me, it was as if time stopped. Without a word, she instantly ran toward me.

Without hesitation, she embraced me tightly. "Arche!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with both relief and fear. "Are you okay? How do you feel? What happened? I can't—"

A rapid series of questions came at me so quickly, it left me a little overwhelmed.

She was speaking so fast, like an unrelenting rain that couldn't be held back.

I stood there, stiff in her embrace, feeling awkward. I knew she was just worried, but I didn't know what to say.

I took a deep breath, feeling slightly relieved, despite the pain in my body.

"Mom…" I started, my voice a little hoarse. "I'm fine. Just a little injured, don't worry."

But my mother continued to bombard me with more and more questions, her concern never ceasing.

My dad tried to separate us because of my condition, but before he could say anything, mom jumped in immediately, clearly fed up.

"This is all your fault!" Her voice was sharp, full of anger.

"That rough attitude, always fighting, being naughty—it's all passed down to him! If it weren't for you, Arche wouldn't be like this!"

I just stood there, trying not to laugh at the chaos. Mom was really mad, and as usual, she wasn't holding back.

But my dad? He looked completely confused, like a little kid caught in trouble.

My dad took a step back, surprised, and stammered, "Eh, eh, yeah, I know… but… he's got good sides too—"

Mom wouldn't let him get away with it. "Don't even try to deflect! Look at him—he's fighting too because of YOU! You're the one who taught him this stuff!"

Dad seemed more trapped and, weirdly, did something strange.

He glanced at me, then at mom, and then suddenly wrapped his arms around himself, like he was trying to find some comfort in his own embrace.

He looked so lost.

"I-I didn't mean for it to be like this…" he muttered, sounding like a kid caught sneaking cookies.

"I just… wanted to teach him to be strong, you know…"

Mom didn't even blink, her stare piercing. "Strong? Being strong isn't about fighting first and thinking later!"

I couldn't help but smile at how my dad, the unshakable figure before, was now crumbling under mom's lecture.

"I-I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to teach him to be a real man!"

Mom rolled her eyes and responded,

"A real man doesn't start fights without thinking first. That's what you should be teaching him!"

Dad could only stand there, frozen, like he was trying to figure out if he was in trouble or if he was just caught in a prank.

He nodded, looking like he was trying to get out of this conversation as fast as possible.

"A real man, huh?" Mom's voice was low and stern. "A real man helps his kid learn to deal with problems without making them worse. What did you teach him, huh?"

Dad could only shrug, defeated, like a kid who just got told off by his mom. "Yeah, yeah, I messed up. I'll do better next time…"

They were throwing jabs and sharp words at each other, and I felt awkward in the middle of all this.

So, with a deep breath, I decided to stop the bickering. "Enough, that's enough, both of you!" I said, more firmly than I expected.

My mom immediately fell silent, as if surprised by my sudden stern tone.

My dad stopped too, squinting his eyes as if he was still processing what had just happened.

I could tell that both of them just wanted to make sure everything was okay, even though their ways of doing so were completely different.

I sighed and decided to change the mood. "Come on, let's go inside," I said as I walked toward the front door. "No need to argue more. Let's go inside."

My mom looked at me for a moment before nodding. She sighed and walked over, while my dad followed behind, still looking a bit awkward but at least he stopped arguing.

I walked into the house, and the atmosphere inside felt a little strange.

It had been so long since I was really here. Since I started high school, I'd spent most of my time at the apartment.

This house, which used to be full of memories, now felt like a place I rarely visited.

I looked around, recalling how every corner of this house brought back memories of my childhood.

The wooden floors that creaked a little, the dining table that was always filled with my mom's cooking, and the family photos hanging on the walls.

Everything felt so familiar, but also just out of reach. It felt like this house was part of a past I couldn't easily grasp anymore.

"Mom, Dad..." I started, my voice quiet. "It's been a while since we've been together here, huh?"

Mother and father nodded slowly, as if understanding what I was feeling.

"We rarely gather like this," mother said with a somewhat heavy tone.

"I'm often abroad for work and rarely get to come home."

"You also chose to live in the apartment since high school, so we've all been living separately." Her voice carried a sense of regret, though she tried to hide it.

Father added, "I've been too busy with my own affairs, sometimes forgetting how important family time is."

I felt awkward hearing their words. It was true—ever since I moved into the apartment, I rarely came back home.

After a while of chatting, my mother invited us to sit at the dining table.

I felt a little awkward at first, but once the food started to be served, the atmosphere began to change.

My mother's dishes always managed to ease the tension, and it seemed to be working that night.

We ate together, and the conversation that initially felt stiff began to flow more naturally.

Mom talked about her work abroad, sharing stories about her interesting clients, although often difficult and exhausting.

Dad interrupted with funny stories about silly incidents at the restaurant, making us all laugh.

I couldn't help but smile, hearing Dad speak in a way that lightened the mood.

"I think Arche has learned more about surviving on his own in the apartment than here," Dad said teasingly, trying to break the ice. I just chuckled and shook my head.

"Yeah, I'm also getting better at cooking," I said, taking a spoonful.

Mom smiled widely, pleased to hear the compliment. "Wow, Arche, if you're already cooking like this, that means you're starting to grow up too."

I felt warm seeing the two of them speak with such affection.

Even though we rarely gathered, moments like this reminded me of how precious family really is.

Between laughter and casual conversations, I felt as if nothing had changed, even though many things had shifted in my life.

The dinner atmosphere was very different from usual, more relaxed, more intimate.

We exchanged stories, talking about the little things in each other's lives, as if the time lost didn't matter at all.

Mom asked about my friends at school, while Dad joked about how I often forgot about meal times and preferred staying up late.

"I thought you'd be more organized after moving out," Dad said with a little teasing, but there was pride in his voice. "But I guess it's not that different."

Mom laughed, "You were the same when you were young, dear."

I just smiled, listening to them joke around.

Simple moments like this—sitting together, eating, and talking—turned out to be so meaningful.

After a pleasant dinner, the night grew later. My mom and dad had already gone to their room, leaving me alone in mine.

My body was starting to feel tired, but for some reason, my eyes couldn't stop staring at the screen of my phone.

I was already lying in bed, my body sinking into the warmth of the blankets, but my mind was still wide awake.

I should've been asleep by now, but I kept scrolling through my phone, checking old messages or mindlessly browsing social media.

Sometimes, it was easy to get lost in the quiet of the night and the digital world, even though my body was begging for rest.

My fingers quickly swiped across the screen, opening familiar apps.

A few messages from friends popped up, and I quickly replied with light conversation, not really heading anywhere.

Maybe I just wanted to distract myself from the thoughts that kept spinning in my mind.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, my phone buzzed loudly, startling me.

Half-asleep, I grabbed it, and when I saw the name on the screen, my eyes widened. Elaina.

I almost dropped the phone in shock. She rarely called me, especially at this hour.

Feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity, I quickly answered.

"Hello?" My voice was a bit hoarse from the drowsiness, but I tried to sound calm.

"Why are you calling this late?" I couldn't help but start hoping—maybe it was something important, or maybe…

But all those hopes were crushed in an instant. "Oh, sorry, Arche. I accidentally pressed your number."

I froze for a moment, processing her words. Accidentally pressed? Seriously? The disappointment was evident in my expression, even though she couldn't see me.

"Oh… just that, huh," I replied flatly, trying to mask my dismay.

Before I could end the call, she spoke again, her tone curious. "But by the way, why haven't you been coming to school lately?"

I chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, you know, just busy being a superhero. Lots of villains to catch," I joked, hoping to divert her attention.

Elaina sighed softly on the other end of the call. "Arche, can you, for once, just answer seriously?"

I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to tell her the truth. But her firm tone left me with no choice. "Alright, alright," I finally said.

"I just… got into a little fight. Nothing to make a big deal about."

Silence. For a moment, I thought she had hung up. But then, her voice came through, cold and dripping with sarcasm.

"A little fight?" she said, her tone rising half an octave. "Arche, do you even know what little means? Because in my book, little doesn't get you out of school for over a week."

"What's next? Are you going to tell me a stab wound is just a 'tiny scratch'?"

I scratched my head, even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, I get it, I was wrong. But I didn't want you to worry, that's why I didn't say anything."

"Worry?" she scoffed. "Who said I was worried? I just don't want to suddenly hear about you making it into the crime section of the news or something. I don't have time for that."

I suppressed a laugh at her comment, even though I knew she was genuinely upset. "Alright, alright, I promise I'll be more careful next time."

She let out a long sigh, this time sounding calmer. "You… always make trouble, Arche. But fine, whatever."

"Just, think about your life seriously, okay? Stop fooling around so much."

"Yes, Your Highness Elaina," I replied in a teasing tone, trying to lighten the mood.

I decided not to end the call right away.

It had been a while since I last heard Elaina's voice like this.

Slowly, I placed my phone on the bed, leaving it on speaker mode.

I took a deep breath and leaned back against my pillow.

"Elaina," I called softly. "Since I haven't been to school for a while, what's been happening? Any interesting news?"

She paused for a moment before finally replying, "Oh, I thought you didn't care." Her sarcastic tone was still there, but I could tell she wanted to share something.

"Come on, tell me," I urged, a bit curious.

Elaina sighed softly before she began. "Alright, listen closely, Arche. First off, Amnesia."

"She slipped while the teacher asked her to carry stacks of documents. And just like in a shoujo manga..."

"Arthur appeared out of nowhere and helped her."

I chuckled lightly. "Ha, classic main character move."

She then went on to tell me other exciting stories, making me feel both annoyed and regretful for not being able to go to school.

As I kept talking, sleep began to overtake me. I tried to stay awake, but my eyes felt heavy, and my words started to slur.

"Ah, it's such a shame I can't go to school… I miss seeing them… especially you…"

There was a pause. I didn't know if Elaina heard me clearly, but her breathing on the other end of the phone seemed to shift, like she was holding something back.

"Arche… what do you mean by that?"

But I didn't respond. My eyes had already closed, and my body gave in to the exhaustion I'd been feeling all day.

I could still hear Elaina's voice faintly, but I was too tired to reply.

"Arche? Hey, are you sleeping?" Her voice now sounded confused.

But I didn't answer. The phone still lay beside me, the call still connected.

Meanwhile, I had already fallen asleep, leaving Elaina on the other end of the line, probably wondering about what I had just said.

After a few days, I finally felt well enough to return to school.

My body, which had been battered and exhausted, was now much healthier, though the strange mix of excitement and happiness still flowed through me.

As I walked through the school gates, the bright morning sun welcomed me.

It felt like coming home after a long time away.

As I walked down the corridor, I suddenly heard a voice calling from behind.

"Yo, Arche!" I turned around and saw Arthur walking toward me, a wide grin on his face.

"You're finally back!" Arthur said cheerfully, with a bit of a teasing tone. "Who's been handling all the problems at school without you, huh?"

I responded with a laugh. "School's been so boring without someone like me, right?"

We both chuckled, joking around like usual. It was nice to be back interacting with Arthur again, but I knew things at school might feel a little different today.

When I entered the classroom, the atmosphere instantly grew quiet. All eyes were on me.

They were probably wondering why I had disappeared for so long. I took a deep breath, stood tall, and raised my hand.

"I'm back!" I shouted enthusiastically as I walked toward my desk.

The reactions from the other students were mixed. Some stared at me with blank expressions, clearly indifferent. But I immediately caught the more interesting ones.

Amnesia, sitting by the window, had a big smile on her face.

Her expression was bright, as if she was genuinely happy to see me again.

Saya, sitting next to her, looked surprised, as if she was wondering what had happened.

And then there was Elaina. I caught her sitting casually, grinning widely, as usual, with that look that—somehow—made me feel both nervous and happy at the same time.

I felt a warmth from all their expressions.

Despite everything, I felt welcomed back here, at this school, with friends I hadn't seen in so long.

"Ah, I know you all missed me, right?" I said, sitting down at my desk, looking at each of them.

This school was always so fun, even with all the chaos I'd caused.

I love this life!