The room had shifted. What had once been a group of scholarship students quietly contemplating their future now felt like a battlefield, one where the cost of their education had become an auction. Kim stood at the center of it all, still grappling with the shock of the announcement, but his mind was already racing with a single thought: This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.


    As the wealthy boy lounged in his chair, an unsettling calm overtaking him, the staff member repeated the offer. "Double the tuition," he said again, his voice firm. "Anyone willing to give up their seat, take the boy’s offer."


    For a moment, the room fell silent. The other scholarship students, once standing still in disbelief, now began to murmur among themselves. Some exchanged glances, others quietly weighed the offer in their heads. Kim’s gaze flitted across the room, trying to make sense of it all. The tension in the air was thick, and Kim could feel the weight of every passing second. He had worked so hard to get here—he couldn’t understand how anyone could consider giving up their place.


    But then, one of the students, a girl named Joo-eun, spoke up. "What’s stopping us?" she asked, her voice trembling with excitement. "Double the tuition, no more worrying about fees. We could finally have some peace."


    Kim’s heart skipped a beat. Her words seemed to carry a new wave of understanding for the others. The idea of doubling the tuition, of escaping financial struggles for good, was a siren call to those who had spent years in poverty. The other scholarship students began to murmur their agreement, their faces lighting up as they turned toward each other. A few were nodding, others looked like they were about to speak.


    The wealthy boy, clearly enjoying the stir he was causing, leaned forward in his chair, folding his arms across his chest with a knowing smile. His eyes scanned the group, as though he was sizing them up, waiting for the inevitable scramble to begin. He had no doubt that someone would take the offer.


    Kim could feel his stomach twist. He had seen these kinds of situations before, back home, where people would fight for something so trivial, so shallow, that it left no room for dignity. It made him sick to his core.


    As the murmurs grew louder, the boy leaned back, his voice cutting through the chaos. "I’ll increase the offer," he said, his words dripping with arrogance. "I’ll give triple the tuition. Whoever takes it gets to sit in this college, and all the privileges that come with it."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    At that moment, the room went silent again. Kim’s jaw tightened as he stared at the boy. Triple the tuition. It was an offer no one in the room could ignore. He saw the eyes of the students around him flash with a mixture of greed, disbelief, and hope. To some, it was the answer to years of financial struggle. To others, it was the escape they had longed for, the door to a world they had only dreamed of entering.


    Kim’s hands clenched into fists as he watched some of the other students begin to look at one another, assessing their chances, their lives, and what they could afford to give up. The bidding war had begun.


    Joo-eun, once the first to speak, hesitated for a moment before nervously raising her hand. "I—I’ll take it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Triple the tuition... it’s more than I ever imagined."


    Kim’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. She had made her choice. He didn’t blame her—he understood her desperation. But the thought of this being the price of her future made him feel sick. How many others would follow?


    The room was buzzing now, as the others whispered and exchanged glances, trying to outbid one another. Kim could see the fear in their eyes—the fear that they might lose out. He could hear the tension in their voices as the offer grew higher.


    And yet, amid the chaos, one person remained quiet. Park Seo-joon, a tall and calm boy from another scholarship, was standing at the back of the room. His face was unreadable, but Kim could sense that he wasn’t caught up in the frenzy like the others. Seo-joon’s eyes were fixed firmly on the boy offering the money, but there was no hint of greed, no sign that he was considering the deal.


    Kim’s gaze met Seo-joon’s, and for a brief moment, they locked eyes. Seo-joon gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if to say, You’re not alone.


    Kim felt a surge of relief, but also a strange sense of sadness. How had things come to this? It wasn’t just about money—it was about their dignity, their identities, and what they were willing to sacrifice. And in this room, it seemed that many of his peers had already decided.


    The bidding continued, faster now, louder, and with more desperation. Kim felt himself becoming more distant, as if he were watching this scene unfold from a place far removed from it all. It was as though the students had forgotten that their education wasn’t something to be bought—it was something to be earned. Yet, they were buying into the lie that money could solve everything.


    As the final bid was raised, Kim’s resolve hardened. He would not be one of them. He couldn’t be.


    The wealthy boy looked pleased with himself as the last bids came in, but Kim knew that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous. What had started as an offer had now turned into a competition—one where the price of identity, of dignity, had been lost in the race to secure a future. Kim had no intention of participating, but he couldn’t help but wonder: how many of his peers had already given up their future for the illusion of security?