Blue Flower (Boys Over Flowers Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

Shinhwa High School—an elite institution nestled in the heart of Seoul, South Korea. Founded by the powerful Shinhwa Group with the backing of the South Korean president, this school was reserved exclusively for the nation's privileged few. Here, students flaunted designer bags, boasted about extravagant vacations, and arrived in sports cars that cost more than most people's homes.

The unspoken rule was simple: the higher you stood, the less you cared about those below you. It was a utopia for the rich and an unreachable dream for the poor.

But wealth alone didn't rule Shinhwa High—F4 did.

A group of four boys, known as Flower Four, dictated the school's social order. Anyone who dared to cross them received a red card—a mark of exile. From that moment on, the entire student body would torment the victim until they had no choice but to leave. It was cruel, but no one questioned it. That was just the way things worked.

And despite how much I despised this place, I was still here.

I loathed everything about Shinhwa High—the arrogance, the superficiality, the ridiculous hierarchy. But nothing irked me more than Miranda, Ginger, and Sunny. Even their Americanized names felt out of place. I let out a sigh, drowning out the mindless chatter around me, scribbling down notes in an attempt to tune out the world.

Then, a voice cut through the noise.

"Lee Min-Ha is on the rooftop! He got a red card!"

A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd, and within seconds, students rushed out of the classroom, eager to witness the unfolding spectacle. Min-Ha. The name rang in my ears. I remembered hearing he had spoken out of turn—voicing opinions that should've stayed buried. In Shinhwa, survival meant silence.

When the crowd had thinned, I made my way to the rooftop. It wasn't sympathy that drove me there—it was curiosity. These moments of chaos always intrigued me.

As I stepped out onto the rooftop, I spotted Min-Ha at the edge, his hands gripping the railing, ready to jump. But what caught my attention wasn't him—it was the girl standing nearby, holding a bundle of laundry.

"I'm here to give you your laundry," she said casually.

I raised an eyebrow. A delivery girl? Here?

Min-Ha let out a bitter laugh. "You can give it to my family after I die."

Her expression twisted in disbelief. "Are you crazy? Why would you die? This school is a paradise compared to the hell outside these walls."

She wasn't wrong. Shinhwa was just an entryway to a much harsher world—the world where only the strong survived.

"You don't get it," Min-Ha snapped. "Once F4 gives you a red card, your life is over. There's no escape."

The girl frowned. "F...4? Red card? What is this, football?"

I almost laughed. She had no idea. She was an outsider, someone completely oblivious to the system that governed this school.

I decided to speak up. "Min-Ha, if you're going to die, at least pick a more dignified way to do it."

He froze. His fingers trembled on the railing. He didn't truly want to die—I could see it in his eyes. But he was too lost in his own despair to admit it.

And then, in one swift motion, he turned—and jumped.

Without thinking, the girl and I lunged forward, grabbing his arms before he could slip away. Together, we pulled him back onto solid ground. He collapsed, breathless, shaking.

I exhaled, unimpressed. "Do you even realize what you've done?" I asked him.

Below us, the courtyard was packed with students, eagerly watching, waiting for the final moment. How pathetic. Shinhwa High was about to make the headlines again, all because of F4's childish games.

The next day as I walked through the halls, I could feel the stares. Some people whispered in admiration; others glared in contempt. I had stopped a victim from dying—and in their eyes, that was a crime.

I tried to ignored them.

Then, a loud shriek echoed down the corridor.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S F4!"

The entire hallway seemed to shift as students moved aside, clearing a path. If heaven had four angels, it wouldn't be them. These boys were devils, wrapped in wealth and power.

Unfortunately, my locker was in their territory, meaning I had no choice but to move through the crowd. As F4 entered, the air around them seemed to glow—or maybe that was just the blinding admiration radiating from their followers.

I rolled my eyes.

The first name I heard was Song Woo-Bin. His family owned Il-Sim Construction, making them a real estate tycoons. There were rumors they were ties to the mafia, and given his confidence, I wouldn't be surprised if they were true. Despite his good looks, he was the worst kind of womanizer—one who treated women like accessories.

Next was So Yi-Jung, grandson of the owner of Woo Song Museum. He had a gift for pottery, and I had to admit, his craftsmanship was impressive. But like Woo-Bin, he had a weakness—his love for women. The only difference? Yi-Jung preferred them his age.

Then came Yoon Ji-Hoo. He came from an illustrious lineage—his grandfather was the former president of South Korea. After losing his parents in a car crash, he became the quietest of the group. But there was a side of him most didn't see—the musician. I had secretly watched him play the violin when he thought he was alone.

And finally, there was Go Jun-Pyo.

The heir to Shinhwa Group. The leader of F4. The most infuriating of them all. His ridiculous curly hair irritated me to no end, almost as much as his entitled attitude. He bullied people as if it were a sport. And judging by the way he was smirking at me right now, he had something to say.

"Park Sora," he drawled, tilting his head. "You've got guts, playing hero."

His fans swooned at his voice, but I merely crossed my arms, unimpressed.

"I guess that's me," I said dryly. "When the villain starts picking on the weak, the hero has to step in."

Yi-Jung and Woo-Bin chuckled, but Jun-Pyo wasn't amused.

"Be careful, Sora. You're lucky it wasn't you. Watch that attitude."

With that, he turned and walked off, his entourage following close behind.

I smirked. Getting under his skin was always fun.

People often asked why I hadn't received a red card yet. The answer was simple—our families were close, and Jun-Pyo's mother adored me. And if there was one thing Jun-Pyo feared, it was his mother.

As I strolled through the school garden, I spotted a familiar figure, glancing around as if lost in a maze. This time, she wasn't wearing delivery clothes—she was in our uniform.

I approached her. "Need help? You look lost."

She turned, her eyes widening in recognition. "You—! From the rooftop!"

I chuckled. "Yeah. Where are you trying to go?"

"The swimming pool."

I smiled. "I'll take you there."

As we walked, we talked. Her name was Geum Jan-Di, and she was here on a swimming scholarship. In reality, she was just a distraction—a tool to cover up the school's latest scandal. And judging by her expression, she knew it too.

"I hope we can be friends," she whispered. "Rich kids scare me."

I laughed. "Don't worry. I'll be your first friend here."

And as I led her to the pool, one thought lingered—I wanted to know more about her.

Especially her life.