BCRD 5

“For real? Kim Junho, you’ve been using someone else’s card?”

As if he’d anticipated the questioning, Kim Junho responded casually, without a hint of panic.

“Oh, it’s my mom’s card. She gave it to me to buy study materials, but I used it a bit yesterday while hanging out with the guys. That’s what we were talking about, but this guy misunderstood and went crazy.”

To me, his excuse sounded like blatant lies, but did it seem plausible to the teacher? The teacher showed signs of accepting it. You’d think he’d ask to see the card or check if the name on it matched Kim Junho’s mother’s, but without any verification, he decided it was the truth and ended the questioning.

I stated my position again. I was certain Kim Junho took it. Unfortunately, the teacher didn’t accept my claim.

“Hey, no matter the reason, you should’ve resolved it with words, okay? How could you use a pen…! Ugh! And you even choked him? Are you a thug? I thought you were a quiet kid, but this is shocking, just shocking.”

The teacher only focused on my attacking Kim Junho with a pen, saying nothing about how Kim Junho’s crew had brutally ganged up on me. His logic was that it was entirely my fault for striking first, and if I hadn’t attacked, this wouldn’t have happened. That wasn’t all. He warned me that this could escalate to a school violence committee and pressured me to apologize to Kim Junho.

“Anyway, report the card as lost quickly, and since this happened because of your rash judgment, Haejin, apologize to Junho. Junho, try to accept it, okay? Let’s not make this a big deal.”

That’s when I realized what mattered to the teacher. It wasn’t the harm I suffered or the truth. It was preventing the situation from escalating, avoiding troublesome issues. More precisely, he feared parental involvement. That’s why he sided with Kim Junho, who had parents.

I had neither the means nor the energy to oppose a teacher who prioritized the school’s and his own security over the truth. I gave up on further protests. But I didn’t apologize either.

My fault? Sure, I won’t deny it. I agree that violence is never justified. But what about Kim Junho? He was definitely the one who stole my card. The mockery about it being a card from “selling myself” was clearly aimed at me. That was the decisive clue that he was the culprit. But I’m the one who struck first? No, it was Kim Junho. He provoked me first. He caused me harm. So, the one who should apologize first isn’t me—it’s Kim Junho. That’s what’s right.

My stance was firm, my position clear. That’s why I expressed my intent with stubborn silence. The teacher sighed, scolding me for it. Kim Junho foreshadowed retaliation with a vile smirk.

And so, the trial in the teacher’s office ended with my defeat.

“…This sucks.”

That’s how I felt after losing. “Dirty” wasn’t enough. It sucked.

Suddenly, a self-deprecating laugh slipped out. It was laughable that despite all my fuss, I couldn’t take the card back. Come to think of it, it was the same when I went after hyung back then. I didn’t get anything back and got beaten to near death instead.

“How am I still so pathetic…”

I thought I’d grown—taller, smarter. But no. The me who was hyung’s punching bag back then and the me robbed by Kim Junho now weren’t so different. Still weak, pathetic, and pitiful. So, I lost.

Let’s face it. I can’t take the card back from Kim Junho with my own strength. So, it was right to follow the best course my rationality had decided.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and brought up the only contact saved.

“…”

I stared at his name for a long while.

Baek Sahyeon.

Even though I saw it often, it still felt distant.

Would he even pick up? …I don’t know. He’d ignored more calls than he’d answered, so it was more likely this one wouldn’t connect either. I could send a text—those he at least checked regularly. But right now, I just wanted to call. More honestly… I wanted to hear his voice.

After brief hesitation, I pressed the call button. The familiar ringtone dragged on. Then, abruptly, it cut off. For a moment, I tensed, fearing the “number not available” message. But thankfully, the sound that followed wasn’t a robotic prompt.

It was a low breath.

“H-Hello?”

Did he pick up? Confused, I cautiously spoke. In response, a low, short chuckle came back, like a breath. He’d really answered.

Relieved, I let out a short sigh and tentatively greeted him.

“Hello. Um, this is Haejin.”

“Yes, hello.”

Why was it? That simple, dry greeting made something well up inside me. Swallowing the unknown emotion along with my saliva, I forced my voice louder.

“Yes, um… I have something to talk about. Is it… okay to talk?”

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have answered, would I?”

A faint playfulness tinged his light tone. It eased my tension a bit. I murmured with a faint smile.

“That’s a relief…”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Huh?”

I was flustered. I hadn’t even mentioned my issue yet—how did he know something was wrong?

“Your voice sounds like you’ve got a problem, kid.”

“Oh…”

My voice gave it away.

A bit embarrassed, I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand.

“No?”

“No, no. I mean, it’s not that it’s not. There’s… a problem.”

“What problem?”

“Well, the thing is… I lost the card.”

My voice grew quieter. My shoulders slumped… How did my words sound to him?

…Pathetic, probably. They sounded pathetic even to me.

But I felt a bit wronged too. It wasn’t like I carelessly misplaced it—it was stolen. So, I quickly added an excuse.

“No, I didn’t lose it—it was stolen. I didn’t drop it; some jerk took it without permission. I really…”

“…”

“I really… took good care of it…”

That’s right. Except for gym class or when I had to shower, I always kept it on me. It wasn’t just a piece of plastic—it was like a part of my body, like hands or feet. That’s how important, special, and precious it was.

“I could’ve avoided losing it…”

No, that’s an excuse. In the end, I lost it due to my negligence. Kim Junho could steal it because I didn’t have it on me. It was taken because I was weak.

…It was my fault.

“…I’m sorry.”

I hung my head weakly. In contrast, the thing I’d forced down my throat earlier surged back up. Now I knew what it was. It was sorrow.

Drip… Tears fell onto my thighs. I didn’t cry when Kim Junho’s crew beat me, or when the teacher told me to apologize… but now, tears came. I couldn’t hold back the swelling sorrow and bursting tears.

Unable to stop, I spilled everything like a tattletale.

“I tried to take it back, sob, I tried, but I couldn’t. So, I guess I did lose it… There was just one of me, and there were four of them. Even the teacher… sob, didn’t take my side. I got beaten up more, and that jerk’s the culprit, but they told me to apologize… to apologize, sob…”

“…”

“I’m sorry. And please, report it as lost quickly. They said they spent a million won yesterday. They said they’d use it today too.”

I couldn’t bring myself to ask for a new card. Being pathetic was enough—I didn’t want to be shameless too. So, I couldn’t say more and just sobbed stupidly.

How much time passed?

He, who’d been listening silently, spoke.

“I understand.”

He wasn’t angry. He didn’t sound annoyed either. Instead, he responded calmly, as if it was no big deal.

“I’ll take care of it, so don’t worry.”

Take care of it? Oh, does he mean he’ll send a new card? …Well, I didn’t say it outright, but it could’ve sounded like I was asking for one.

“Yes, yes… Thank you.”

Grateful but overwhelmed by my inability to refuse, tears poured out again. Now, I was annoyed too. I felt like such an idiot for crying like this…

“Kid.”

The nickname, usually unwelcome, felt warm today.

“Stop crying.”

I couldn’t deny I was crying—my voice was already thick with it. He probably heard my sniffling too. And…

“Sob…!”

His telling me to stop somehow felt like comfort, making my tears flow harder.

“I’m sorry. Sob… I don’t want to cry… I’m sorry… Wail…!”

Maybe I’d wanted to cry since I realized the card was gone. The tears I’d held back had finally reached their limit and burst like a dam. His voice was definitely what broke that dam.

Clutching the phone, I cried loudly for a while. I didn’t just cry—I spilled everything about what Kim Junho had done. How he’d been picking on me for a while, how he threw bread at my head and told me to pick it up, how he deliberately hit me with a ball during gym class, how he called me an orphan or beggar whenever he got the chance, how I got beaten up badly, how it hurt, how unfair it was… Amazingly, he listened to all my crying and complaints.

There were no words of comfort or soothing. He simply didn’t hang up, waiting until I calmed down. When my crying finally stopped, he said:

“I got it, so wait.”

In a suitably soft, sufficiently kind voice.

💳

The next day, I took the day off, claiming I was sick. Well, it wasn’t exactly an excuse—I was genuinely unwell. It wasn’t just the throbbing from the beating. A high fever and chills kept me shivering under blankets all day. It felt like the flu.

When I lived with hyung, I’d drag myself to school even after getting beaten with a baseball bat. But this time, the aftereffects lingered longer. Maybe because it’d been a year since I’d been hit… I guess my immunity to violence had weakened.

Thankfully, by the second day, my body was back on track. I felt a bit sluggish and heavy, but moving wasn’t an issue. So, I went to school.

I woke up late and missed most of first period, but I made it to the classroom during BREAK before second period. As expected, the moment I sat at my desk, eyes shot toward me. Curiosity, mockery, pity—the emotions in those gazes varied. I accepted them calmly, opened my bag, took out my stationery, and set it up on my desk.

That’s when it happened.

“Hey, you okay?”

Jung Jiho, sitting in front of me, spoke cautiously. We weren’t close enough to call friends, but we exchanged greetings or small talk.

“Yeah.”

I gave a curt reply, and he frowned, drooping the corners of his lips.

“You don’t look okay.”

Fair enough. My split lip was still raw, and the bruise on my cheek hadn’t faded. Anyone could tell I’d been beaten up, with marks all over my face and body.

“Well, I saw the video, and no way you’re okay.”

What?

I froze for a second.

“Video? What video?”

“Some idiot posted it on their feed. Got flamed and took it down quick, but pretty much everyone saw it. You’re the talk of the school now. They’re saying John Wick was born at our school, and kids are losing it.”

It wasn’t surprising. Whenever something happens, people film and post it. It’s a world where others’ pain is consumed as entertainment. My suffering and struggle were no exception, it seemed.

“And yesterday, Kim Junho’s mom came and raised hell. She stormed in looking for you. Her eyes were scary as hell.”

That wasn’t surprising either. Regardless of the reason, I was the one who attacked first. Kim Junho got a serious cut from my attack. Your kid comes home from school with a wound like that? Any normal parent wouldn’t let it slide. My parents probably would’ve done the same. The teacher must’ve anticipated this, which is why he forced me to apologize and tried to placate Kim Junho to keep things from escalating. In other words, it was the expected fallout.

“No matter how you look at it, she’s not gonna let this go…”

“…”

“You gonna be okay?”

Of course not. But I couldn’t run away scared either. So what could I do? Just deal with it. If they asked why I did it, I’d explain. If they insulted me, I’d listen. If they hit me, I’d take it. I had no guardian to fight their parents for me. Facing, enduring, and getting through the fallout was all on me.

…Yeah, it’s all on me.

“It’ll work out somehow.”

I replied calmly, and Jung Jiho let out an “Ooh,” adding a comment that was either praise or mockery.

“Damn, that’s cool as hell. Nice, nice.”

What’s he on about?

“Anyway, I’m rooting for you. If you need someone to testify about the crap Kim Junho’s been pulling on you, call me. I’ll snitch in the name of justice.”

I thought he didn’t care, but he’d noticed Kim Junho’s subtle bullying. His support and offer to help were appreciated, whether he meant it or not.

Jung Jiho’s attention was cut off by the bell signaling the start of class. I opened my textbook and glanced at Kim Junho’s seat.

His seat was empty.

As expected, right after third period, the teacher called me.

“Yeon Haejin. Come with me.”

I’d been prepared for this, so I wasn’t scared.

I closed my textbook, stood up, and walked to the teacher waiting at the front door. He scanned me up and down, clicked his tongue, and muttered.

“Ugh, really…”

His expression said he was looking at a headache. He seemed to have a lot to say, roughly translating to, “Why’d you cause such a mess?”

Letting out a deep sigh, he gave a simple order to follow and started walking. I followed quietly, feeling curious gazes on my back.

The teacher headed to the principal’s office.

“Go in.”

I followed his order and entered.

I was greeted by the principal, whom I’d seen once or twice, two strangers, and Kim Junho.

Kim Junho, with a bandage around his neck, smirked when he saw me. His voice echoed in my head: “You’re screwed now, you bastard.”

“You?”

A woman who looked about forty glared at me as she spoke. She was obviously Kim Junho’s mom. Here we go.

“You’re the one who tore up my son’s skin?”

Her tone was rough, despite her refined appearance. Her eyes looked ready to rip me apart.

I stood there, not even sitting, and replied calmly.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Yes, that’s me? Look at this guy, so brazen!”

I couldn’t say I was entirely innocent. But I had no reason to act timid either. I didn’t want to grovel.

“What are you trying to pull? Think we’re easy targets? Huh?”

Her voice grew louder with her rising anger. Sensing trouble, the principal shifted in his seat, trying to mediate.

“Ma’am, please calm down…”

Unfortunately, it didn’t do much good.

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down? There was an attempted murder in the classroom! My son’s the victim, and the perpetrator’s standing there with that shameless face! How am I supposed to calm down?!”

“Attempted murder is a bit…”

“Principal, are you siding with him? If it’s not attempted murder, what is it? He attacked with a weapon and choked him. That’s not attempted murder? Honey, say something. Is this attempted murder or not?”

Kim Junho’s mom turned to her husband for support. A middle-aged man, noticeably older than his wife, cleared his throat with a cough. What followed was enthusiastic agreement tailored to her.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s clearly attempted murder. He choked him with intent to kill.”

“See? Principal, you heard him.”

“…”

Neither the principal nor the teacher could argue back. They probably didn’t want to defend me actively either. They just wanted to keep things from escalating.

Kim Junho’s mom turned her piercing gaze back to me. If her eyes had a physical form, I’d probably be torn to shreds right now, far worse than the cut on Kim Junho’s neck.

When I didn’t respond, the teacher nudged me with his elbow, signaling me to apologize. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice and opened my mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Even to me, my voice sounded dry. Kim Junho and his mom both scoffed, immediately recognizing the insincere apology. His dad’s reaction wasn’t much different.

“Sorry? That’s a sorry face?”

“…”

“Hey, you know why people say not to associate with kids like you? Because you’ve got no upbringing, no adults to discipline you, so you act like that, right?”

So she knew I was an orphan. But her mockery, dragging my parents into it… honestly, it was too predictable. Just clichéd nonsense. So, it didn’t hit me that hard.

“Yeah, your situation’s pitiful, living without parents. Poor thing. But that’s not a free pass! Not every kid in your shoes is like you. There are tons of kids worse off who grow up right! They don’t try to kill their classmates or stand shamelessly in front of adults like you, you lowlife!”

It was a bit absurd that she only saw my faults and not her son’s…

“Yes, it’s true I don’t have parents. Thank you for pitying me. But I don’t think your son, with both parents, grew up all that right either. In my view, someone who steals and uses another person’s card is also a lowlife.”

I just blurted out my thoughts unfiltered.

“What?”

“How dare…!”

“Hey!”

Faced with my heartfelt accusations, not only Kim Junho’s parents but also the homeroom teacher were stunned. Since I’d already opened my mouth, I made my position clear.

“Kim Junho stole my card and used it freely with his friends. I first asked him to return it with words, but he denied it and refused, even picking a fight with me, saying he’d keep using it.”

“Hey.”

Kim Junho stood up abruptly and took a step toward me. It was a signal to shut up. Ignoring him, I continued speaking.

“Kim Junho said the card was his mom’s, so you should verify that first.”

A look of dismay crossed Kim Junho’s mom’s face. She exchanged glances with her husband, as if this was news to them. Kim Junho looked equally flustered.

“You called it attempted murder, but I just wanted my card back—I had no intention of killing anyone. If Kim Junho hadn’t stolen it in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. But since I did cause him injury, I’m sorry for that part.”

I bowed respectfully toward Kim Junho’s parents.

If I point out someone else’s fault, I should acknowledge my own. If I admit my mistake, I should apologize for it. That’s my belief—it makes me stand taller.

“…”

“…”

A silence lingered for a while. They seemed confused about how to take my apology and the card issue.

Unfortunately, the conclusion they reached after their confusion wasn’t peaceful.

“The card? Sure, I sometimes give our Junho money to buy something nice. But you? Do you have proof that our Junho stole your card?”

Just moments ago, she acted like she didn’t know about the card, and now she’s saying she gave it to him? It was obviously a lie. She was just desperate to protect her son, with no intention of uncovering the truth. In that case, mentioning the conversation I overheard from Kim Junho’s crew would be pointless. They’d unconditionally shield their son.

Choosing silence over futile defense, Kim Junho’s mom let out a mocking laugh, as if she expected as much. Next, his dad stepped in.

“That’s enough. We’re not letting this slide. What parent would let someone who tried to kill their kid walk away? I won’t let a criminal like him off. Open a school violence committee, impose proper discipline, or take appropriate action.”

The school violence committee. The teacher’s worst fear had come up. If it actually happened, the outcome was obvious. It would go their way. I’d likely be forced to transfer or expelled. I didn’t have anyone like Kim Junho’s parents to unconditionally defend me.

Suddenly, the fact that I’m an orphan with no one on my side hit me hard. And so… I couldn’t help but feel sorrow.

“Sir, the committee is a bit…”

The teacher cautiously tried to dissuade them. It didn’t work.

Before Kim Junho’s parents could respond, I interjected with my decision.

“No need to go through the trouble. I’ll drop out.”

Of course, I didn’t want to quit school. But leaving on my own terms was better than being labeled a troublemaker and kicked out. Besides, I didn’t need to attend school to study. I could still qualify for college through the GED.

At my words, Kim Junho’s dad, who’d demanded the committee, looked dumbfounded. He clearly hadn’t expected me to declare I’d drop out.

I was tired.

I just wanted this to be over.

Sadly, things didn’t go as I wished.

“What? Drop out? This is ridiculous, seriously. What kind of kid is this?”

Did my declaration of defeat sound like a challenge? Kim Junho’s mom let out a hollow laugh, pointed at me, and declared.

“You! I’m going to throw you in juvenile detention. Dropping out? You think that’s enough after trying to kill my son? Kids like you need to be locked away from society. Got it?”

To Kim Junho’s mom, I was practically a would-be murderer. Her resolve to ruin my life was firm.

“Ma’am, you seem too worked up. Please calm down. This doesn’t seem like something to take that far.”

With talk of juvenile detention on top of the committee, the teacher tried to intervene more actively. Kim Junho’s mom’s face flushed redder, veins bulging at her temples.

“Teacher, you can’t say that! Honestly, I’m very disappointed in you! To begin with…!”

Just as Kim Junho’s mom, in her heightened agitation, was about to berate the teacher while pointing at him, a phone’s ringtone suddenly cut through like a splash of cold water.

“Huh?”

The teacher, who’d been bracing for the onslaught, looked around, bewildered. But he quickly realized the sound came from his pocket and pulled out his phone. Seeing an unknown number, he tilted his head, hesitating to answer. Kim Junho’s parents, clearly displeased, openly glared at him.

“Sorry, just a moment…”

Finally, the teacher apologized and turned to take the call.

“Yes, I’ve answered. Who is… …What?”

Suddenly, the teacher turned to me sharply. His expression was far from ordinary.

“Yes, yes. I’m his homeroom teacher. Yes… When? Now? Well, right now… It’s not that it’s impossible, but the situation… Sigh… Okay, hold on.”

The teacher, who’d only given short responses, making it impossible to guess the content or caller, lowered the phone slightly and addressed the principal and Kim Junho’s parents.

“Uh, Haejin’s guardian says they’re coming.”

What?

I doubted my ears.

My guardian? What guardian?

The principal and Kim Junho’s parents looked as puzzled as I was. They must know I’m an orphan, hence their confusion.

As everyone, including me, wondered who this guardian was, the teacher provided the answer.

“It’s his uncle.”

“…!”

I held my breath.

Uncle? I don’t have an uncle. But there was someone who could pretend to be one—Mr. Baek Sahyeon. So, is he coming to the school now?

…No.

Thinking back to the traffic accident, it was more likely Hyunki hyung would show up. Either way, it was clear someone was coming to resolve my issue.

Is this what he meant when he told me to wait during our call the other day? His unexpected involvement was both appreciated and bewildering.

After the sudden visit announcement, the principal’s office fell into an awkward, heavy silence. Kim Junho’s parents seemed thrown off by the unexpected situation but maintained a calm demeanor for now. The principal and teacher sighed or cleared their throats, glancing at them. Meanwhile, I felt Kim Junho’s piercing glares intermittently. I ignored him, refusing to meet his eyes and stubbornly staring into space.

About thirty minutes passed, by my estimation.

Knock, knock.

Finally, the silence cracked. Then, without delay, the door swung open. The knock wasn’t a request for permission—it was a statement of entry.

Someone walked in. I quickly turned to the door, expecting Hyunki hyung. But, surprisingly…

“Huh?”

It wasn’t who I expected. Not Hyunki hyung, but someone unfamiliar… or maybe not entirely unfamiliar, like I’d seen him somewhere before… Anyway, someone I didn’t know well.

The man, seeing my confusion, stepped aside without explanation. There was no time to ask who he was. The next moment, I saw him.

Mr. Baek Sahyeon.

“…!”

My jaw dropped at the unexpected appearance.

Filling my vision, he gave a faint smile. Then…

“Hello.”

He greeted me.

I could only blink dumbly, unable to respond.

His gaze soon shifted to the teacher standing beside me.

“Hello. I’m the guardian of Haejin, whom I just spoke with.”

He identified himself to the teacher. His voice was subtly different from when he greeted me—lower, drier.

By the way, Haejin?

I mulled over his words, almost letting them slip by. He definitely said Haejin. Haejin… He’d only ever called me “kid” before, never my name. Was it because he said it? My name felt unfamiliar for the first time. It also felt strangely thrilling, making my heart skip.

“Oh, yes! I’m Haejin’s homeroom teacher.”

I could feel the teacher’s tension, and it affected me too. It made sense. Even at a glance, Mr. Baek Sahyeon wasn’t an ordinary person. Beyond his neat attire and handsome looks, he exuded a sharp, intimidating presence. The same presence I felt a year ago, when I was younger, the teacher couldn’t possibly miss.

“And this is the principal…”

His gaze followed the teacher’s polite gesture.

The principal, who’d been cautiously observing, stood awkwardly and offered a greeting when their eyes met.

“Oh, hello. I’m the principal here.”

After the principal’s greeting, the teacher gestured politely again, this time toward Kim Junho’s parents.

“These two are Kim Junho’s parents.”

Despite the introduction, Kim Junho’s parents didn’t budge. As if in a power play, they deliberately looked away, seemingly waiting for him to greet first.

Despite their borderline rude attitude, he showed no reaction. He didn’t seem offended. But he also didn’t offer the greeting they wanted.

Walking past me, he sat on an empty spot on the sofa. Leaning back and tilting his head slightly, he looked at Kim Junho’s parents as if sizing them up and began.

“Let’s skip the pointless preamble. I’m very busy. Let’s get to the point. You, come sit here.”

As if declaring war, he opened the discussion and beckoned me with a flick of his finger. Kim Junho’s parents looked taken aback, and after a brief hesitation, I cautiously sat beside him.

No sooner had I sat than he dove straight into the matter, as promised.

“I assume we all know what happened between the kids. No need to rehash what we already know, so let’s move to resolution and agreement.”

Though phrased as a suggestion, his tone made it sound like a command. Kim Junho’s parents, feeling the same, let out incredulous gasps.

“What? Resolution? Agreement? Shouldn’t an apology come first? Do you know what your nephew did to my son? Are you sure you know what happened…?”

“I know well.”

His calm but firm voice cut off their words ruthlessly. Kim Junho’s mom couldn’t hide her shock at his informal tone.

After a deliberate pause, he added.

“I just said so.”

Though his tone was now polite, it still felt condescending, almost mocking. It wasn’t just me—their expressions weren’t good either.

“I don’t like repeating myself. I hate wasting time even more. Let’s stick to what’s necessary.”

Again, it felt like a threat disguised as a suggestion. His voice and tone carried an undeniable pressure. Even I felt overwhelmed.

“So, what do you want?”

He asked bluntly. Kim Junho’s parents exchanged glances. It wasn’t that they didn’t know what to say—they knew but hesitated to say it.

Their demands were clear. They’d already told me. Dropping out wasn’t enough—they wanted me in juvenile detention, isolated from society. They wanted to ruin my life. That hadn’t changed. Yet, unlike before, they hesitated, probably intimidated. Unlike me, who just listened, he wasn’t someone who’d take it lying down.

As expected.

“For the record, don’t expect an apology. I’m not going to make him, and he’s not going to do it.”

He preemptively shut down unreasonable demands.

Visibly upset, Kim Junho’s mom, her face contorted, sharply retorted.

“That’s outrageous. He almost killed our son and won’t apologize? How can you be so shameless? Now I see—the uncle’s like this, so the nephew’s no good either!”

At her aggressive words, he twisted his lips.

“Didn’t this start because your son caused it? I don’t see it as something to apologize for. If anything, it’s the opposite. I think a kid who does something deserving of a beating should get one.”

“What? A kid? You’re calling my son a kid?”

This time, Kim Junho’s dad joined in, triggered by the word “kid.” Kim Junho’s face twisted as if he’d been insulted too.

“Yes, I said a kid who deserved a beating. I don’t think there’s a more accurate term. Is there a problem?”

“Hah! Hah!”

“Honestly, I’m a bit surprised. The kid who deserved a beating looks too unscathed. My nephew’s face is worse off—I’m the one who wants an apology.”

He was right. My face was much worse than Kim Junho’s. Sure, I didn’t get cut, but… visually, it was true.

“Hey, ‘deserved a beating’? What did our Junho do? Oh, the card? Stole a card? That’s your nephew’s misunderstanding! Get your facts straight!”

Kim Junho’s mom’s tone grew harsher. Pointing again, it seemed to be her habit when agitated.

Frowning at her increasingly rude behavior, he warned in a cold voice.

“Your finger’s pretty active. You’d better keep it in check before it breaks. If you keep acting like that, I’ll act reckless too.”

“…!”

A chill filled the room. His calm but sufficiently cruel threat stopped everyone—Kim Junho, his parents, the teacher, the principal. I saw their faces pale. Especially Kim Junho’s mom, who curled the finger she’d pointed at him, placed it on her knee, and gripped it tightly with her other hand.

“Let’s keep things civil. Unless you want to face something nasty.”

Adding the warning with a smile, he pulled something from his jacket’s inner pocket. A cigarette. Without asking permission, he lit it naturally. After taking a drag, he blatantly exhaled toward Kim Junho’s parents. Despite being arguably ruder than pointing, no one objected.

“Now, back to the point. You said my nephew misunderstood? So, your son didn’t steal his card?”

Intimidated, Kim Junho’s mom couldn’t answer or even meet his eyes. Finally, Kim Junho’s dad, glancing nervously, answered reluctantly.

“Y-Yes.”

“Got proof it was a misunderstanding?”

“Proof? Our son isn’t the type to steal cards. Why would he, when he lacks nothing…?”

“Our Haejin isn’t the type to misunderstand and cause trouble either. He must’ve been certain to act.”

Our Haejin? Did I hear that right…?

“Plus, I’m curious. Why did a kid who clearly relies on his parents pick on my kid, of all people? Huh?”

Huff… This time, the cigarette smoke subtly drifted toward Kim Junho. His gaze followed suit.

Kim Junho glanced at his parents for help. He immediately pointed it out.

“Your parents aren’t the ones to talk right now. You answer. Don’t dodge.”

Kim Junho’s shoulders flinched. His Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably. He was clearly scared. Even I found Mr. Baek Sahyeon’s intimidating demeanor… a bit frightening.

“Speak. Why’d you mess with him?”

“…”

“Just wanted to screw with him?”

“…”

“Or did you want some attention?”

“…!”

The silent Kim Junho suddenly widened his eyes, as if struck to the core. Reading something in that, Mr. Baek Sahyeon smirked.

“Got it.”

He stubbed out the cigarette on the glass table—not an ashtray—and murmured softly.

…It was beyond my understanding.

“Uh, excuse me. Accusing our son of theft without proof is… not right. Honestly, it’s offensive.”

Kim Junho’s mom, who’d backed off under his threat, spoke up again, using the lack of concrete evidence to deflect her son’s fault.

Arguing over evidence would put me at a disadvantage. The conversation I overheard from Kim Junho’s crew wasn’t solid proof—it could be interpreted either way. Still, I felt I should say something…

“There’s proof.”

…Proof? Proof that Kim Junho stole my card?

“What?”

Instead of explaining, he raised his hand and flicked it in the air. The man who’d been standing quietly by the door responded.

The man, hands behind his back, approached. I noticed he was holding something—a manila envelope. He took it, didn’t open it, and tossed it onto the table, pointing at it with his chin.

“Check it.”

Kim Junho’s parents, who’d been demanding proof, hesitated to touch the evidence he presented, as if it were a bomb.

Irritated by their hesitation, Mr. Baek Sahyeon let out a short sigh. Even that felt like a threat.

Finally, Kim Junho’s dad hurriedly grabbed the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the contents. From a glance, it was A4 papers and a few photos. I was puzzled, unable to guess what they contained, but he gave a hint.

“You’ll see. Your son made good use of my card over two days. There’s an MVG entry—where it’s from is in the photos, so I won’t explain. If it’s too refined for you to imagine, let me know. I’ll tell you exactly how your kid played there, with video included.”

Oh, a card statement. That must be in the papers. But the photos? What’s in them? And a video?

“This, this is…”

Kim Junho’s dad’s face drained of color as he checked the contents. Seeing his reaction, Kim Junho’s mom snatched the photos and examined them one by one. Her reaction wasn’t much different—no, it was worse. Her face paled, and her hands and lips trembled.