GBH 9

Jung Eun-chae knew about Hong Jae-min’s gang. They were notorious delinquents and the primary cause of stress-induced hair loss for the homeroom teacher responsible for their grade.

Only then did the incident of Song Yi-heon jumping from the pedestrian overpass started to make sense, and Jung Eun-chae pressed her temples. From what she gathered, Song Yi-heon, who had suffered school violence, despaired under the surface of bullying and jumped from the overpass.

However, the biggest issue was that the harassment was ongoing. In the attendance records for Class 3-1 that she received, both Song Yi-heon and Hong Jae-min were listed. Unless Hong Jae-min had been shocked into reforming by Song Yi-heon’s jump, the bullying would likely continue.

But what were the chances of Hong Jae-min turning over a new leaf? The head of the student discipline department had already answered that. Turn over a new leaf? It would be quicker for the hair I lost because of that punk to grow back.

No clear solution came to mind. How could she mediate and protect the victim in the same space as the perpetrator, ensuring the victim could integrate well with other students? Jung Eun-chae tapped her desk in frustration, pondering the need to revisit the root of the problem.

The reason Song Yi-heon and Hong Jae-min ended up in the same class was that no one knew about the bullying. Now that she knew, it was right to separate them. Jung Eun-chae understood this. But to separate them, she needed to bring Song Yi-heon’s school violence to light during the faculty meeting.

The only person who could tell what violence Song Yi-heon had suffered was Song Yi-heon himself. The perpetrators would likely remain silent to avoid incrimination, and it was difficult to rely on Song Yi-heon’s guardian for help.

Expecting a student who had already attempted su1c1de due to the bullying to reveal the details of the abuse would be like reopening a wound and rubbing salt into it. Jung Eun-chae rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t be sure if it was the right thing to do.

The school violence that Song Yi-heon endured had been so well hidden that even the teachers were unaware. This wasn’t something she should expose without caution. Song Yi-heon’s opinion was paramount. He was returning to school, and the last thing she wanted was for him to suffer further trauma by being singled out as a victim of school violence.

First, she needed time to consult seriously with Song Yi-heon. She could change the class later. The problem was, until then, she needed someone in the classroom to prevent Hong Jae-min from harassing Song Yi-heon.

As she scratched down the alphabetically sorted list with her thumbnail, she discovered a third party’s name. Choi Se-kyung, positioned between Song Yi-heon and Hong Jae-min.

Smart, mature, polite, and kind, Choi Se-kyung was a role model for others.

An amusing point to note was that among the five students Jung Eun-chae had counseled, none had disclosed the fact that Song Yi-heon was gay. It wasn’t for Song Yi-heon’s sake; it was to protect Choi Se-kyung from harm. Even though they hadn’t promised anything, all five students kept silent.

Jung Eun-chae didn’t know if Song Yi-heon liked Choi Se-kyung.

No one knew how ashamed Song Yi-heon felt about being exposed as a victim of school violence in front of the person he liked, or how terrified he was that Choi Se-kyung might witness him being beaten.

Thus, Jung Eun-chae decided to ask Choi Se-kyung for help with Song Yi-heon.

“Se-kyung!”

She called out when she spotted Choi Se-kyung coming out of the teacher’s office. The tall student turned his head. He wasn’t just tall; he had a well-balanced and solid build. His appearance, grown up to the boundary between boy and man, gently looked down at Jung Eun-chae. The low voice spread softly but weighty.

“You called for me?”

His crescent-shaped eyes met hers steadily, and although he was clearly ten years younger, Jung Eun-chae felt a faint warmth rise in her neck.

“I left the file on your desk.”

Choi Se-kyung tactfully changed the subject, pretending not to notice Jung Eun-chae’s flushed neck. Jung Eun-chae, equally eager to dispel the awkwardness, rubbed her neck and averted her gaze. In doing so, she happened to notice the watch on Choi Se-kyung’s wrist, recognizing it as one worth about as much as her monthly salary. The realization startled her, instantly cooling her embarrassment.

“Se-kyung, can we talk for a moment?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on. Since the first period is about to start, let’s talk while we head to the classroom. I’ll just grab my books.”

Se-kyung nodded obediently and waited as Jung Eun-chae hurriedly gathered her English textbooks and handouts. He held the office door open for her and then took the handouts from her, walking alongside her. From the open windows, they could hear the lively chatter coming from the school store below.

“Ahem. Do you know someone in our class named Song Yi-heon?”

“Ah… yes.”

Choi Se-kyung recalled the male student rumored to have a crush on him. His smoothly maintained smile stiffened momentarily but quickly returned to normal.

“During winter break, there was an incident involving Yi-heon. Um, it’s a sensitive issue, but it seems he had some friction with another friend. But this year, he ended up in the same class as the friend he had a falling out with… You know about it too, right? Hong Jae-min.”

Trying to avoid saying ‘school violence’ directly, out of concern for Song Yi-heon’s feelings, Jung Eun-chae’s explanation became somewhat convoluted. Fortunately, Se-kyung was well aware of the situation and could guess what she was trying to convey.

“Yi-heon isn’t at fault. It seems Jae-min has been treating him roughly for some time. You know how Jae-min can be… rough. Yi-heon was really hurt by it… so much so that he did something drastic during the winter break.”

“So that’s why he didn’t show up for the supplementary classes.”

“Oh, you noticed…?”

Choi Se-kyung responded calmly. His mature demeanor was reassuring, and Jung Eun-chae debated whether she could tell him that Yi-heon jumped from the overpass. By the time she’d decided, they had reached the end of the straight corridor.

The straight corridor stretched out as they turned the corner and ascended to the upper floor. The noise from the cafeteria grew quieter. The incinerator roof was nearby through the window. Although the incinerator was no longer used, the smell from the days when school garbage piled up still lingered, making it a place where students rarely went.

Unlike the bustling cafeteria, the stairs between the incinerator and the wall were quiet. The sound of footsteps echoed loudly on the stairs.

After some thought, Jung Eun-chae decided against mentioning Yi-heon’s jump from the overpass. After all, Se-kyung is also a minor. Having made up her mind, Jung Eun-chae brought up the matter without further ado.

“So there’s an issue between Yi-heon and Jae-min that needs to be resolved, but it might take some time. Seong Yi-heon’s opinion is the most important, so I can’t rush into a solution. Can Se-kyung help Yi-heon during this time? I’m really sorry to ask this, but you’re the only friend who can prevent Jae-min from approaching him. Of course, the teacher will keep an eye on it.”

“…”

However, Choi Se-kyung distanced himself and leaned towards the window. It seemed like a rejection to Jung Eun-chae, who hastily emphasized that Yi-heon wasn’t a bad guy.

“Teacher has looked into Yi-heon, and he’s… shy. He’s physically weak and has trouble fitting in with friends. He’s so kind that even when something upsets him, he just takes it without complaint. He couldn’t even hurt a fly—”

“Isn’t that Song Yi-heon?”

Choi Se-kyung, who had been listening silently, suddenly pointed outside the window.

“What?”

Jung Eun-chae pushed Se-kyung aside and hung onto the window. Below, at the incinerator site, Hong Jae-min was rolling on the ground after being punched by Song Yi-heon, surrounded by a group of students.

Song Yi-heon’s high school was divided into old and new buildings. The old building was mainly for 1st and 2nd graders, while the new building, a newly built structure, was used by 3rd graders. The buildings faced each other in a ‘ㄷ’ shape, with a central courtyard containing a cafeteria made of container boxes, making the center of the building always bustling.

Hong Jae-min led the way around the outskirts of the school to avoid being caught by a teacher. The desolate, shaded path was a stark contrast to the lively scene near the convenience store.

While being dragged along, Kim Deuk-pal familiarized himself with the school’s layout. Though his arms were bound by Hong Jae-min and his friends to prevent escape, it felt more like they were just folding arms together than a real threat. Their immature muscles tensed as if they were trying their hardest, which Deuk-pal found amusing.

How nice, they’re giving me a tour of the school! This thought amused Kim Deuk-pal as he was being dragged.

But the sight of Song Yi-heon, seemingly unfazed by his situation, irritated Hong Jae-min. When Yi-heon started laughing openly, the group couldn’t help but mock him.

“You think this is funny? Huh?”

They roughly threw Song Yi-heon into the incinerator upon arrival. He stumbled and fell onto a pile of discarded plastic bottles. Hong Jae-min’s gang, consisting of seven or so boys, gradually closed in on him, almost herding him.

“Didn’t you get into an accident? Did it mess up your brain? Looks like this bastard’s become a real idiot.”

“Yeah, how’d you know? I fell head-first.”

As Yi-heon responded with a smile, Hong Jae-min’s crew began to sense something was off.

The incinerator was their usual spot for beatings. During the winter break, they’d almost forgotten about Song Yi-heon since he hadn’t shown up to school, but usually, if there was even the slightest hint of being dragged to the incinerator, Yi-heon would panic like a dog needing to relieve itself.

But now, instead of trembling in fear, Song Yi-heon calmly stood up and brushed the dust from his knees. He straightened his crumpled uniform, and casually rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. Then, he tilted his head slightly to the side.

His eyes, gleaming with an intense light, scanned Hong Jae-min’s gang.

“Thanks, buddy. After banging my head, everything suddenly feels crystal clear.”

In reality, he didn’t know if Song Yi-heon had actually fallen head-first from the pedestrian overpass. The last time Kim Deuk-pal saw Song Yi-heon was when he fell from a truck. That memory had stuck with Deuk-pal, like a nail driven deep into his soul, impossible to remove and causing him constant, lingering pain.

Whenever Deuk-pal encountered something that reminded him of Yi-heon, that metaphorical nail would ache. The persistent pain had become a part of him, making it impossible for him to feel any leniency toward those responsible for Yi-heon’s suffering.

Kim Deuk-pal slipped his hands into his pants pocket and walked leisurely. His fidgety gait exuded a firm resolve. It was the kind of rage that made him want to crush Hong Jae-min until there was nothing left.

This wasn’t the usual false bravado seen in school bullies. The look in Deuk-pal’s eyes was so intense, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he pulled a knife on the spot. sensing this, the kids around him couldn’t help but swallow nervously. They began to doubt whether this was the same Song Yi-heon they’d known.

Song Yi-heon stopped just inches from Hong Jae-min, so close that his forehead lightly tapped against Hong Jae-min’s shoulder due to the height difference. Song Yi-heon’s forehead lightly tapped Hong Jae-min’s shoulder. Song Yi-heon didn’t stop at once but repeatedly tapped Hong Jae-min’s shoulder with his forehead. It was a clear provocation. However, Hong Jae-min, now unnerved, couldn’t bring himself to push Yi-heon away.

It wasn’t just the head-butting. It was as if a different person had taken over Yi-heon’s body. That was the only way to explain this strange and oppressive atmosphere.

“Hey.”

Song Yi-heon called out with his forehead against Hong Jae-min’s shoulder.

“You pushed me.”

His tone was flat, making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

“…What the hell are you talking about.”

Hong Jae-min deliberately spat out rough swearing to cover his unease. Song Yi-heon had always been a loser who’d wet himself when beaten. There was no reason for Hong Jae-min to feel intimidated now. Yet, the tension in the air made no sense.

Hong Jae-min tried to shake Yi-heon off, but Song Yi-heon leaned in with his full weight.  As he looked down with annoyance, their gazes met. It was a distance where fine hairs could be seen. Hong Jae-min, momentarily distracted by the sight of Yi-heon’s long, thick eyelashes, suddenly froze when he realized Yi-heon was staring directly through him.

They were eerily clear eyes, so transparent that they seemed otherworldly, as if they could see right through someone. The unsettling gaze tightened its grip on Hong Jae-min, sending chills down his spine.

Song Yi-heon parted his lips. The hot breath flowing from the black cave brushed against Hong Jae-min’s neck.

“Jumped off the bridge.”

There was no subject in that sentence, but everyone knew exactly who it referred to. There was only one person who would have jumped. There was only one person who could have jumped. Hong Jae-min scratched his neck with stiff movements. He scratched so hard his nails left marks, but the sensation of Yi-heon’s breath lingering on his neck wouldn’t go away.

Feeling his throat dry, Hong Jae-min puffed up his stiff chest and let out a long sigh.

“He jumped himself… so why is he blaming me?”

“You bullied him enough—it’s practically the same as if you pushed him.”

To clearly reveal who he had killed, Kim Deuk-pal turned his forehead slightly to show Song Yi-heon’s face. He coldly nailed the truth.

“You killed him, Jae-min.”

Whether it was the burnt-out body of Kim Deuk-pal or where Song Yi-heon’s soul had gone, no one knew. The verdict was clear.