I,A Gangster, Became a High School Student

The stereotypes against the Hong family over the past two years have been shaken. It suddenly dawned on me that bullying threats were no longer meant to work. Instead, Song clasped his hands together in front of him and tightened his grip on Jung Eun-chae. The lips that had been mocking and sarcastic in their bickering were now polite.

“Before you got the wrong idea, they started it, and I acted in self-defense.”

“I thought you said to strike first!”

Hong Jae-min, who had been looking away in frustration at being hit without hitting back, jumped in and called out the lie. But Kim Duk-pal wasn’t listening.

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“You see those are seven of my friends, and I was alone. It’s a low-quality special attack where a group creates fear by showing off their power. If you’re 19, it’s a criminal offense, so I don’t think this should be taken lightly.”

As Kim walked in and out of the police station, he looked over his shoulder and spoke of the legal knowledge he had picked up. Nothing too special. But as they tangled and fought, and Song Yi-heon tried to walk away, Hong Jae-min’s eyes rolled back in frustration.

“Don’t you see you hit me? You hit me hard, asshole!”

The group had only beaten up seven people, and Hong ripped his shirt off to show his kicked chest. His ribs were cracked, judging by the difficulty breathing after the kick. Even Ms. Jung Eun-chae wouldn’t side with Song Yi-heon if she saw his footprints.

The button on his school shirt was ripped off and bounced off his cheek. He swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand, and a bloody line crossed it. The skin on his hand ripped open and bled again. Kim Duk-pal nonchalantly brushed off the fresh blood that ran down his fingers like a forked river.

“Jae-min.”

Her tone was polite, as if addressing a teacher, but clear irritation was evident. Hong Jae-min froze, removing the white tee he wore underneath his shirt to cover his face. Just hearing the words “Jae-min,” now, made him go nuts.

“If you had given me the same amount of trouble you gave me, you’d be here today.”

The words that pointed to the past gave validity to the present. The disdain was so blatant that it made Hong Jae-min’s neck burn. Behind her, Choi Se-kyung’s eyes flashed with excitement.

Jung Eun-chae woke up suddenly. From what she heard, Song Yi-heon was the victim. She knew Hong Jae-minne was evil, but the way Song Yi-heon was so confident and Hong Jae-minne was so obviously cowed made her wonder if she was mistaken.

If it was horrible enough to jump off an overpass, if it was terrible enough to stay in the hospital for two months to think about it, then Song Yi-heon must have shaved his head and gotten into a fistfight because he wanted to change. Jung Eun-chae was sorry she couldn’t fathom Song Yi-heon’s feelings and doubted him. It couldn’t have been easy for a victim of abuse to stand up to her abuser. However, instead of supporting her, she tried to scold her. She felt unqualified as a teacher.

“…All of you, follow me to the staff room.”

Jung Eun-chae ordered sternly in a muffled voice. Hong Jae-min, whose momentum had been temporarily dampened by Song Yi-heon’s intellect, also stopped rebelling. Choi Se-kyung, who had remained silent, interrupted them as they moved to the staff room.

The balanced figure stepped forward and his presence intensified.

“Mr. Choi.”

Choi Se-kyung entered the room with Hong Jae-min. True to the rumors, the children, who had been watching their teacher, Jung Eun-chae, casually, didn’t mind Choi Se-kyung’s interruption. Children’s eyes were similar to adults.

Just as Song Yi-heon, who is emotionally unstable and shows signs of being neglected at home, is recognized as a ghost and labeled as a victim of abuse, Choi Se-kyung, who is comfortable and naturally wears expensive products, is not questioned.

Molly’s current demeanor, in which she shrugs off stares with a smile, also makes it difficult for Choi Se-kyung to be taken lightly. As the taller Choi shielded himself from the sun, Kim Duk-pal jerked his chin up. As he approached, he was initially repulsed by Choi Se-kyung, but then he recognized her face and studied it closely. Soon, he remembered their encounter in the bookstore and extended his right hand in greeting.

Se-kyung took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around Song Yi-heon’s right hand. He gripped his trembling hand firmly and looked at Jung Eun-chae for understanding.

“We should go to the hospital first.”

His bloodied right hand.

* * *

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The school nurse’s office was at the end of the hallway on the first floor. Kim Deuk-pal, who didn’t know the school’s geography, followed Se-kyung.

The boy carried a handkerchief. It tickled.

Kim Deuk-pal put his right hand with the checkered handkerchief under his nose and sniffed. It smelled like blood, with a faint hint of body odor. The scent was indefinable, a mixture of fabric softener, body lotion, and skin scent. However, to Kim, who didn’t know what moisturizer was and whose toiletries consisted of cucumber soap, anything that smelled delicious was perfume.

His men, who were obsessed with picking up women, spray perfume on handkerchiefs and carry them around. This guy must be crazy about women who don’t look like that, Kim Deuk-pal said, adding to his assessment of Choi Se-kyung.

Se-kyung, who had been walking straight ahead, turned his head and responded with a smile. He felt it in the bookstore, but the handsome guy had a pleasant personality.

“Hey, glad to see you here again.”

The silence was awkward, so Kim Deuk-pal patted Se-kyung’s forearm. He wondered what the odds were that he applied to the same school as the student he met in the bookstore. Seoul’s floor was so narrow as it seemed wide. Kim Deuk-pal relaxed, realizing that Choi Se-kyung could help him with schoolwork from now on.

But Se-kyung’s smile remained vague. She raised her eyebrows and stared at him, and he wondered if he was showing his age again. After a careful glance, Se-kyung realized he was serious and returned the greeting.

“…Yes, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

The conversation was cut short when they reached the hospital. As He pushed the sliding door open, students running on the playground rang out loud and clear from the open window.

“The teacher isn’t here.”

Choi Se-kyung stepped in first, peering over the partition and into the room where the bed was. When he returned to the doorway, Song was sitting on a stool administering first aid alone. A bloody handkerchief was unrolled next to the first aid kit. As he reached for the antiseptic with one hand and dabbed it on the back of his right hand, Se-kyung sped up.

“Let me do it.”

Se-kyung took the antiseptic, sat down in the chair across from him, and grabbed Song’s right hand to tilt the bottle. The colorless disinfectant spread across his crusted hand with a distinctive smell.

“Man, be gentle.”

Song Yiheon’s brow finally cracked as he acted as if he wasn’t hurt. Se-kyung picked up a cotton ball with tweezers to clean the wound.

“Don’t laugh.”

Kim Deuk-pal asked gruffly. It was funny to see someone laughing so easily when in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was worried you couldn’t feel the pain.”

Se-kyung did not hide his smoothly curved lips. He took his wounded right hand in her own and applied medicine to the disinfected spot. Their palms were warm. Kim Duk-pal was the first to crack a joke as Choi Se-kyung lowered her eyes and applied the ointment, careful not to touch the wound.

“Yes, I’m Geumgang Bulguk.”

“Huh?”

Se-kyung looked confused. Her droopy eyes rounded up, and he looked even gentler.

What kind of joke was I making with this small thing? Kim Deuk-pal clicked his tongue, wondering if she was so young to read martial arts books.

“No, it’s okay. I pretended to be sick. Why are you fake sick in front of the kids?”

“Sure. Nice work, Song.”

Luckily, Se-kyung didn’t ask any more questions, preoccupied with finding a bandage. At first he tried to put a band-aid on it, but the skin covering the bone of his fist was all torn open, so he pulled out a long bandage and covered the wound.

“Ugh…….”

Se-kyung, who treated the wound, bumped into the railing. Having never looked at bandages before, she had no idea how tight to make the bandage so Song Yi-heon. Eventually, the bandage he had overtightened drooped and sagged, and the lesser Kim Deuk-pal snatched it away.

“Give it back.”

He bit the end of the bandage in his mouth to secure it, then skillfully applied the bandage using only his left hand. Soon the bandage was tightened and knotted around the affected area. When Se-kyung pressed his lips together in admiration, Kim Deuk-pal shrugged.

“You’ll be able to do that when you’re in the army.”

It was a trick he’d picked up while working for the gang. However, he didn’t want Choi Se-kyung to know, so he didn’t tell him the truth. In an organization where only boys gathered, the question of whether or not to enlist in the army was a subtle nerve-war, so they didn’t talk about it as much as possible, but Choi Se-kyung was young enough to make a joke out of it.

Cute likes teasing, you bastards. Kim Deuk-pal stared longingly at Se-kyung, who was sitting quietly in front of him.

‘ I noticed when I met him in the bookstore, he had a soft spot for old people. Even now, the way he treats them, the way he cares for others, makes me feel less wary.’

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“You didn’t apply to the army.”

His heart sank as Se-kyung revealed the truth as if he already knew it. Kim Deuk-pal was exempt from the military because of no education. When Choi Se-kyung mentioned something from his past he didn’t know about, his hands and feet became cold.

Se-kyung reached for his arm. Instinctively pushing off the floor, Kim pushed back on the stool, his shoulders slumping at the bitter cold on his cheeks. An antiseptic cotton ball held in tweezers gently dabbed at the dried blood on her cheek.

“How can we go to the army? Not in two years?”

Se-kyung said nonchalantly as he wiped his cheek. Hr didn’t mean whether Kim Deuk-pal would be discharged from the army, but that Song Yi-heon, at 19, wasn’t old enough to enlist. Unable to brush aside his pounding heart in front of Se-kyung, Kim Deuk-pal forced a smile to pass the time.

“…That’s right. We’re high school students.”

“Yeah. We’re high school students.”

Se-kyung concentrated on wiping his cheeks to ensure dried blood didn’t stain them, and stammered out the words.

“Hey, thanks for recommending the problem book. It was good.”

If he talked about the military anymore, he’d dig his own grave, so he desperately changed the subject. Se-kyung rolled his eyes, focusing on Kim’s cheeks. The corners of his eyes drooped.

“Did you finish the problem book?”

“Yeah. It’s like you said, I’m less likely to get it wrong, so I feel like studying.”

He studied in the hospital because he had no one to contact and make friends with. This is because he was hospitalized in a one-room hospital. When he lived as a gangster, he split his time between studying and working. However, for the two months he was hospitalized, he only solved problem books. Using tattered problem books in the hospital room

“I’ll hold it for a second. It’s dry and not wiping well.”

“Huh?”

Song Yi-heon asked, not knowing what he would hold, but Se-kyung took that as permission and cupped his chin in his palm and ran his long fingers down his cheek. Immobilizing his face, Se-kyung rubbed a disinfectant swab against his bloodied cheek with gentle pressure.

The ball-shaped disinfectant rubbed against his cheeks insistently. Suddenly, his arm became uncomfortable.

“Clean it up.”

It came off quickly with a lot of rubbing, so Se-kyung rubbed it carefully as if he were cleaning expensive porcelain.

“Give it to me. I’ll do it.”

An impatient Kim Deuk-pal tried to snatch the disinfecting pad from him, but Choi didn’t even pretend to pick it up. Instead, he arched his back and closed the distance, as if he would wipe with great care. Then he opened his mouth to speak.

“I have a question.”

Kim Deuk-pal froze, trying to shake off Choi Se-kyung’s uncomfortable grip.

“Why didn’t you pretend to know me in the bookstore? I didn’t recognize you.”

Se-kyung patted Song’s bangs. He had cut his bangs, which usually cover half face, which meant he hadn’t recognized him at the bookstore.

“You should have recognized me.”

“Uh, that’s because…….”

Kim Deuk-pal’s mouth became dry. If he couldn’t recognize Song Yiheon’s parents, how could he recognize a boy from the same school? He couldn’t confess to changing his soul, so he desperately rolled his eyes.

“But, Yi-heon.”

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Se-kyung fixed Song Yi-heon’s chin and squeezed. The slightest force was applied, and Kim Deuk-pal realized what he looked like. The small blue bastard pressed him, pretending to wipe away his bloodstains. Normal high school students would have been unnerved by the stares, but not Kim Duk-pal. He’d been a gangster his whole life.

Some of them were simple, like Hong Jae-min, who used his fists, while others were snakes, like Choi Se-kyung, who silently strangled people. Whatever they were, Kim Deuk-pal fought them, and won, even in the worst of circumstances.

His eyes calmed. His pale pupils became as cold, dry, and sharp as the frozen tundra.

A child with no blood in his head, arrogantly bossing an adult around? The gangster Kim Duk-pal admitted as much, but Haknuk-sang didn’t forgive him. However, he couldn’t help but wag his tail at the next comment.

“You’ve changed a lot. You didn’t look me in the eye when you confessed to me.”

Gently and graciously, Choi Se-kyung reminded him of what the original Song Yi-heon had done.