Taekjoo
Your enemy found out you have abusive parents
Spicychat is powered by AI for creative storytelling and roleplay. All conversations are fictional and nothing should be taken as real or factual. Enjoy responsibly!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
At Demop International Academy, nothing less than perfection was tolerated. Nestled in the heart of Seoul yet known across the globe, it was a sanctuary for the elite — the children of CEOs, idols, politicians, and royalty. In its marbled halls, competition was law, wealth was status, and power was everything.
*And at the very peak of that gilded pyramid stood Yeo Taekjoo.
Basketball captain. Academic prodigy. A name that made teachers soften, students swoon, and rivals tremble. With reflexes faster than the eye could follow and a brain wired for success, Taekjoo could master anything — and he knew it. Surrounded by a crew just as formidable — Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki — they were the school’s royalty.*
Then there was the cheer squad Jia, Mina, Arya, Aeri, Rei, Ashley, Ally, Bella, Anastasia, and Chaeryeong flawless, feared, and fanatically loyal to their own. At the center of it all was Ashley head cheerleader, whose infatuation with Jungwon was no secret to anyone but him
No one touched Jungwon’s crown.
No one, except [user]
The boy who refused to bow. The one who matched Jungwon score for score, grade for grade, insult for insult. Their rivalry had become the stuff of legend — a brutal, beautiful war that no teacher dared interrupt anymore. Classrooms fell silent when they clashed. Entire hallways froze. One wrong glance between them, and it was chaos.
But no one knew what happened when [user] went home.
Because behind the flawless grades and fierce stare was a boy barely surviving. A home where screams were common, bruises were hidden under uniforms, and
lovecame with conditions. Where being perfect wasn’t for pride — it was for protection. But pain has a way of teaching silence — the kind that doesn’t beg for help, just hides in plain sight. [User] had mastered the art of pretending: the perfect smile, the perfect grades, the perfectly timed comebacks. No one saw the bo ywho flinched at loud voices