I lay sprawled on the ground, letting out a bitter laugh. "You'll get what's coming to you," I muttered.

Cynthia's chest heaved with anger as she returned to the desk, rummaging through the papers. Moments later, she pulled out my council membership application and tore it into pieces. "With that kind of attitude, I won't be your sponsor anymore. You don't deserve to be a member and I'll make sure you get a demerit on your record. Forget about applying for student loans in the future."

She grabbed me by the collar and threw me out of the office, sending me crashing onto the floor. My necklace snapped and the bullet casing on the chain fell to the ground.

Clink, clink, clink. The crisp sound echoed through the hallway, mournful and poignant.

I stared at the bullet casing and, at that moment, I could almost see my father's weathered face. Before departing for the battlefield, he had crafted this necklace with his hands and delicately put it around my neck.

His hand brushed my cheek as he spoke softly, "Back in the war, your grandfather fought bravely and gave his life. His remains were never recovered. This bullet casing was picked up from the battlefield by his comrades—it was the last bullet he fired in defense of our homeland. It was with me through so many victories. Today, I'm giving you this good luck charm to protect my precious child as they grow up healthy and live a happy life." My father left in his country's military uniform and returned home wrapped in his national flag.

Struggling, I crawled forward and clutched the bullet casing tightly in my hand. Sobs wracked my body as tears poured down my face.

Dad, are you crying for me too? I don't want you to win battles anymore. Can you just come back? Dad …

A pair of hands gently touched my face, wiping away my tears. I looked up to see the young teacher, Alexander Scott, gazing at me with deep concern. "Yelena, reasoning with her is useless. If this doesn't work, we'll go find Mr. Chapman."

Hope flickered in my chest as he helped me to my feet, guiding me toward the dean's office. However, just as we reached the door, we ran into the dean himself.

Alexander hurriedly explained what had happened, showing Mr. Chapman the injuries on my body. The man frowned thoughtfully. "I see. Mr. Scott, I'll handle it. You should return to your duties."

Alexander hesitated. "I'm not comfortable leaving her like this."

Mr. Chapman suddenly coughed loudly. His voice was laced with anger. "You're just an intern teacher. Focus on your own duties!"

Startled, Alexander flinched and reluctantly let go of my hand. His concern was visible in his eyes as he walked away, looking back at me every few paces. When he disappeared down the hallway, Mr. Chapman turned to me coldly. "Bullying? Do you have any proof?"

I was bewildered. Weren't these injuries all over me proof enough? Just as I was about to explain, a group of girls came giggling out of the dean's office. Jasmine, at the front, looked at me with a sly smile. "Uncle Carl, don't listen to her nonsense."

The other two girls chimed in, giggling. "Yeah, she's just bitter about not getting a scholarship and trying to drag us down with her."

Mr. Chapman's expression instantly softened as he gave Jasmine a gentle smile. "Jasmine, I've watched you grow up. Of course, I know you wouldn't do something like that."

It felt like a blow to the back of my head. I stood frozen, my heart sinking into despair. Any remaining sliver of hope was extinguished.

Mr. Chapman leaned closer, his belly brushing against me as he whispered with a disgusting smile, "Isn't this all about money? Come to my office later when no one's around and I'll give you $25000."

The rage burning inside me erupted. How dare this pretentious monster say that? I slapped him across the face and immediately called the police, but when the officers arrived, they surrounded me instead.

Mr. Chapman accused me of assault and Jasmine accused me of defamation. The police needed evidence to do their job, but I had none to defend myself.

On the other hand, Jasmine had a group of classmates backing her up. They claimed I was arrogant and vindictive, saying that when I couldn't win the scholarship, I slandered her for monopolizing it—and even assaulted the dean.

In the end, the incident escalated to the principal. In front of all my classmates, the principal accused me of openly slandering classmates, beating teachers and calling the police to affect the reputation of the university. He deemed my conduct unacceptable and expelled me.

I was at a loss for words, desperate for the police to stand up for me. Unfortunately, even the officers seemed helpless. "Expulsion is the university's decision. We have no authority to interfere."

A policewoman gave me a meaningful glance and whispered, "I heard she's the daughter of a board member and her family has powerful connections. You can't fight someone like that."

So, what about me? Was I supposed to accept being wronged? Did protecting Jasmine mean they had to destroy me?

I felt suffocated, like I was being dragged into despair. Noticing how pale and unsteady I was, the policewoman gently pulled me into her arms. "Come with me, let's get your wounds taken care of. You must be hungry too, right?" I caught a faint scent in her warm embrace that reminded me of my mother.

The policewoman took me to a restaurant and I ordered a bowl of chicken soup. While I ate, she talked on the phone with her daughter. Her face was full of smiles as she promised her child, "Mommy will be home to be with you as soon as I'm done with work, baby. Be good."

Tears mixed with the salty taste of the soup as I swallowed them down. This dish symbolized a family reunion in my town, something my mom hadn't made since I was ten. Because one by one, the people in my family had died.

In my memory, my mother was always crying. The last time I saw her cry was at my brother's funeral. He had lost an arm and his lifeless body was draped in a flag, lying in a coffin. My mother staggered forward and slapped him hard across the face. "We had an agreement! How dare you leave before me?"

The deeper the love, the more intense the grief. My mother had endured too much. She didn't even have time to grieve properly before she left for the frontlines in an epidemic country the next day. When she returned, it was a certificate honoring her as an anti-epidemic hero.

I screamed for my parents in the empty house, but only my echoes answered. All they had left me was that iron box full of military medals. I just wanted to know what use these things were. I couldn't understand …

After finishing my meal, I thanked the officer and returned to campus to pack my things. As I approached the dormitory, I noticed a commotion outside.

While giggling, Jasmine was flinging my belongings into a blaze in the middle of the crowd. "These things are bad luck! Burn them to get rid of the bad vibes!"

When I saw the iron box in the center of the flames, I went berserk and rushed over. As if I felt no pain, I reached into the fire with my bare hands. People stared at me like I was crazy, but I didn't care.

Despite my burning and blistering hands, I could remove the iron box from the fire and clutch it firmly to my chest.

Jasmine and her friends kept laughing. "What's so special about that junk? She acts like it's a treasure!"

"Maybe she could sell it for a few bucks, ha!"

I said nothing; I just hugged the box and walked away. I used my last few bucks at the university gate to hail a cab. The car stopped outside the military district compound, but the driver didn't even take my money before speeding off.

My mother always said those medals were our family's pride and highest honor, but I didn't want honor anymore. Now, could these things bring back my family?

I limped to the compound's gate, opened the iron box, knelt and cried out loud.

"Take these back. Please, just give me back my family."

The guard ran out of the post, puzzled. He gasped when he saw what was in my box. Medals and certificates were neatly stacked together.

Even though he'd served in the military for years, he'd never seen such an astonishing collection of military honors. It was an unimaginable level of glory. Without saying a word, he turned and sprinted inside to report, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.

Soon, a group of men in uniform came hurrying towards me. I vaguely recognized the leading officer from my father's funeral. My father had sacrificed his life to save him.