GBH 11

The preconceived notions that Hong Jae-min’s gang had built up over the past two years began to crumble. Suddenly, it dawned on them that their threats to keep quiet about the bullying wouldn’t work anymore. Sure enough, Song Yi-heon clasped his hands together and bowed politely to Jung Eun-chae. The same lips that had sneered and spat sarcastic comments during the fight now spoke with respect.

“Teacher, I just wanted to clarify in case there’s any misunderstanding. They started it. I acted in self-defense.”

“You told us to hit you first!”

Hong Jae-min, still angry and humiliated from having been beaten, shouted in protest, glaring elsewhere in frustration. But Kim Deuk-pal ignored him.

“You see, there were seven of them, and I was alone. This was a case of group intimidation, creating fear—a low-grade form of aggravated assault. Since they’re 19, criminal charges can be brought against them, so I don’t think this should be taken lightly.”

Kim Deuk-pal rattled off legal knowledge he had picked up from frequenting police stations. There was nothing particularly professional about it. It was superficial, mentioning punishment to frame Hong Jae-min’s group as the aggressors while trying to exclude himself. However, Hong Jae-min was furious at the injustice of Song Yi-heon trying to extricate himself alone when they had all been involved in the fight.

“Can’t you see I’m beaten up?! You hit more, you bastard!”

Group intimidation? What group intimidation? The seven of them had only been beaten. Hong Jae-min tore at his shirt to show where he had been kicked in the chest. Judging by how difficult it was to breathe after being kicked, he might have cracked a rib. If teacher Jung Eun-chae saw the red footprint on his chest, she wouldn’t be able to take Song Yi-heon’s side.

A button torn from the school uniform shirt flew off and hit Song Yi-heon’s cheek. As Song Yi-heon wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, a bloody line appeared. The scab on the broken skin of his hand reopened, and blood flowed again. Kim Deuk-pal nonchalantly brushed off the blood trickling down his fingers like a split river.

“Jae-min-ah.”

Though his tone was as polite as when addressing a teacher, there was clear annoyance mixed in. Hong Jae-min froze, his face hidden as he was in the middle of taking off the white t-shirt he wore under his shirt. By now, just hearing “Jae-min-ah” was enough to give him a near-traumatic response.

“If I had paid you back exactly for all the bullying you did, you’d be dead right here.”

By invoking the past, Kim Deuk-pal justified his actions in the present. The contempt in implying that Hong Jae-min was overreacting to such a small thing was so blatant that Hong Jae-min’s group felt their necks grow hot with shame. A glint of fascination flashed in the eyes of Choi Se-kyung, who was watching from behind.

Only then did Jung Eun-chae snap back to her senses. From what she had heard, Song Yi-heon was the victim. She was well aware of how vicious Hong Jae-min’s group could be. However, seeing Song Yi-heon so confident and Hong Jae-min’s group clearly cowed, she found herself doubting what she thought she knew.

If Song Yi-heon had been so distressed that he was willing to jump off a bridge, and had spent two months in the hospital reflecting, maybe he had cut his hair and gotten into this fight because he wanted to change. She felt guilty for doubting him instead of understanding him, for trying to scold him when standing up to his bullies must have taken a lot of courage. As a teacher, she felt inadequate.

“…All of you, follow me to the teacher’s office.”

Jung   sternly instructed in a sunken voice. Even Hong Jae-min’s group, momentarily cowed by Song Yi-heon’s pointed remarks, dropped their resistance. As they prepared to head to the office, Choi Se-kyung, who had been quiet until now, stepped in.

His tall frame moved forward, making his presence more pronounced.

“Teacher.”

Even Hong Jae-min’s group, who had been looking down on the female teacher Jung Eun-chae, didn’t raise any particular objections when Choi Se-kyung intervened. The students knew who to take seriously, much like adults.

Just as they instinctively recognized that Song Yi-heon was a victim, they also knew better than to pick a fight with someone like Choi Se-kyung, who wore expensive clothes with ease and carried an air of stability.

Se-kyung’s calm demeanor now made it even harder for anyone to challenge him. Standing tall and casting a shadow over Kim Deuk-pal, who responded by tilting his chin upward defiantly, Se-kyung’s face seemed familiar. Song, recalling their meeting at the bookstore, he extended his right hand slightly in a friendly gesture.

Instead, Se-kyung pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around Song Yi-heon’s bleeding right hand. Gripping it firmly, he then politely turned to Jung Eun-chae.

“I think he should go to the infirmary first.”

The right hand that had been used for punching needed immediate medical attention.

* * *

The infirmary was located at the end of the first-floor hallway. Kim Deuk-pal, unfamiliar with the school’s layout, followed Se-kyung as they walked.

A guy carrying a handkerchief. How touchy.

Kim Deuk-pal sniffed at his right hand wrapped in the checkered handkerchief, holding it under his nose. A subtle scent mingled with the smell of blood. It was an indefinable fragrance, a mix of fabric softener, body lotion, and skin toner. However, to Kim Deuk-pal, who didn’t know what moisturizer was and used only cucumber soap for everything, any good smell was simply perfume.

His subordinates, crazy about picking up women, often carried handkerchiefs sprayed with perfume. Kim Deuk-pal added to his assessment of Choi Se-kyung, thinking that despite his appearance, he must be crazy about women too.

Perhaps aware of the sidelong glance, Se-kyung, who had been walking straight ahead, turned his head and responded with a smile. As he had felt at the bookstore, this handsome guy had a good personality too.

“Hey, fancy meeting you here again. Good to see you.”

The silence was awkward, so Kim Deuk-pal lightly tapped Se-kyung’s arm and started a conversation. What were the odds of meeting the same student from the bookstore at school? For all its size, Seoul was surprisingly small. Feeling relieved that he could rely on Se-kyung for help with future school matters, Kim Deuk-pal relaxed a little.

However, Se-kyung’s smile turned a bit ambiguous. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Deuk-pal steadily, making him feel uneasy, wondering if he had said something outdated again. After scrutinizing him for a moment, Se-kyung finally acknowledged the greeting.

“…Yeah, good to see you too.”

They had arrived at the infirmary, and the conversation ended there. As they slid open the door, shouts from students running on the playground echoed loudly and softly through the open window.

“The nurse isn’t here.”

Choi Se-kyung, who entered first, went to the back where the beds were, looking beyond the partition. When he returned to the doorway, Song Yi-heon was sitting alone on a stool, attempting to treat himself. The bloodstained handkerchief was laid out next to the first-aid kit. As Yi-heon tried to pour disinfectant on his injured right hand, Se-kyung quickly stepped in.

“Let me do it for you.”

Se-kyung took the disinfectant, sat on the opposite chair, and held Song Yi-heon’s right hand as he tilted the bottle. The colorless disinfectant spread over the scabbed hand, emitting its characteristic sharp smell.

“Hey, be gentle.”

Song Yi-heon’s brow finally creased, despite having acted unhurt before. Se-kyung, who was cleaning the wound area with cotton held by tweezers, chuckled softly.

“What are you laughing at?”

Kim Deuk-pal asked gruffly. He didn’t like seeing someone laugh comfortably while he was in pain.

“Ah, sorry. I was worried you couldn’t feel pain.”

Se-kyung didn’t try to hide his smoothly curved lips. He readjusted his grip on the injured right hand and applied medicine to the disinfected area. The warmth of Se-kyung’s hand against his was oddly comforting. Impressed by how carefully he worked, Kim Deuk-pal, uncharacteristically, made a joke.

“Yeah, actually I’m invincible.”

“Huh?”

Not understanding, Se-kyung looked up in confusion, his usual soft eyes widening in surprise, making him look even more innocent.

Why did I bother making that joke to someone so young? Kim Deuk-pal inwardly clicked his tongue. He thought the boy was probably too young to have had time to read martial arts novels.

“Never mind, forget it. I was just pretending not to be in pain. Can’t exactly show weakness in front of those kids, right?”

“I see. That’s pretty cool, Song Yi-heon.”

Fortunately, Se-kyung was distracted looking for bandages and didn’t ask further. At first, he tried to use a band-aid, but seeing that all the skin covering the knuckles was torn, he took out a bandage and covered the wounded area lengthwise.

“Hmm…”

Se-kyung, who had been calmly treating the wound despite his lack of skill, hit a snag. Having never wrapped a bandage before, he couldn’t gauge how tight it without causing Song Yi-heon pain. In the end, as the overly loose bandage sagged limply, Kim Deuk-pal, unable to watch any longer, snatched it away.

“Give it here.”

He then held the end of the bandage in his mouth to secure it and skillfully wrapped it using only his left hand. Song, the bandage was appropriately tight around the wounded area and tied off. As Se-kyung rounded his lips in apparent admiration, Kim Deuk-pal boasted.

“Impressed? Don’t worry—you’ll learn all this once you’ve gone through the army.”

In truth, it wasn’t the army but his experience in the gangster world that had taught him such tricks, but there was no need for Se-kyung to know that. Among men, there was always a subtle competition about who had served in the military. Kim Deuk-pal usually avoided bringing up military talk, but something about Se-kyung’s respectful and innocent demeanor made him want to tease him.

This cute kid is fun to mess with. Kim Deuk-pal gazed fondly at Se-kyung sitting obediently before him. He had felt it when they met at the bookstore to – the kid seemed to have a way of pleasing older folks. Even now, the way he was personally tending to the wound showed consideration for others, which lowered Kim Deuk-pal’s guard.

“You haven’t been to the military.”

So when Se-kyung revealed the truth as if he already knew, Kim Deuk-pal’s heart sank. He had been exempted from military service due to his lack of education. Hearing Se-kyung mention something from his past that he couldn’t possibly have known made Deuk-pal’s hands and feet turn cold.

Se-kyung reached out his arm. Kim Deuk-pal instinctively pushed back on the floor, moving his stool backwards, and his shoulders involuntarily hunched at the cool touch on his cheek. The disinfectant cotton held by tweezers gently rubbed at the dried blood on his cheek.

“How could we go to the military? We’ll go in about two years.”

Se-kyung said casually as he cleaned Kim Deuk-pal’s cheek. He meant not that Kim Deuk-pal hadn’t served, but that Song Yi-heon, being 19, wasn’t old enough for enlistment yet. Unable to calm his pounding heart in front of Se-kyung, Kim Deuk-pal forced a smile to move past the situation.

“…Right. We’re high… school students.”

“Yeah. We’re high school students.”

The dried blood seemed difficult to clean off, as Se-kyung focused on wiping the cheek, absent-mindedly repeating Kim Deuk-pal’s stumbling words.

“Hey, thanks for recommending that workbook. It was good.”

Feeling that talking more about the military would be digging his own grave, Kim Deuk-pal desperately changed the subject. Se-kyung, his eyes still focused on Kim Deuk-pal’s cheek, only moved his pupils to meet his gaze. His droopy eye corners crinkled slightly.

“Did you finish the workbook?”

“Yeah. Just like you said, I made fewer mistakes, so it was more enjoyable to study.”

With no one to contact and stuck in a private hospital room, he had no one to talk to, so he’d spent all his time studying. While living as Kim Deuk-pal, he had only been able to study in between gangster work, but during his two months in the hospital, he had gone through the workbooks thoroughly. As he tossed the tattered books into the hospital room’s trash can, he hoped his grades in the March mock exams would improve.

“Hold still for a bit. It’s hard to clean because it’s dried.”

“Huh?”

Kim Deuk-pal didn’t understand what Se-kyung meant by “hold,” but Se-kyung seemed to take it as permission. He cupped Deuk-pal’s chin with his palm and covered his cheek with his long fingers. Holding Deuk-pal’s face still, Se-kyung carefully wiped the bloodstain with gentle pressure.

The ball of cotton rubbed persistently on his cheek. Kim Deuk-pal started to feel uncomfortable.

“Just wipe it roughly.”

It’s too much fuss over a little blood splatter. It would come off quickly if scrubbed hard, but Se-kyung was wiping as carefully as if cleaning expensive porcelain.

“Give it here. I’ll do it.”

Kim Deuk-pal, unable to bear it any longer, tried to snatch the cotton, but Choi Se-kyung ignored him. Instead, he leaned in closer, determined to wipe the stain thoroughly. Then, he spoke calmly.

“I’m curious about something.”

Kim Deuk-pal, who had been about to shake off the uncomfortably close Choi Se-kyung, hesitated.

“Why didn’t you greet me at the bookstore? I didn’t recognize you…”

Se-kyung tapped his own bangs. The bangs that usually covered half his face had been cut, implying that he hadn’t recognized him at the bookstore because of the difference in appearance.

“But you must have recognized me.”

“Ah, well…”

Kim Deuk-pal’s mouth went dry. How could he have recognized a boy from the same school when he couldn’t even recognize his own parents’ faces? Of course, he couldn’t confess that his soul had been swapped, so he frantically searched for an excuse.

“But Yi-heon.”

Se-kyung readjusted his grip on Song Yi-heon’s chin. As slight pressure was applied, Kim Deuk-pal became aware of his situation. This young boy was pressuring him under the guise of wiping off blood. A normal high school student might have squirmed uncomfortably under the intense gaze, but not Kim Deuk-pal. He had lived his entire life as a gangster.

There were simple-minded guys like Hong Jae-min who would start with their fists, and then there were snakes like Choi Se-kyung, who would quietly squeeze the life out of you. Kim Deuk-pal had fought and won against both types, even under worse conditions.

His eyes instantly became calm. His pale irises turned cold, dry, and sharp like frozen tundra.

This punk, thinking he can pressure an adult just because I’m quiet? Kim Deuk-pal had always been generous, but he didn’t tolerate insubordination. However, Se-kyung’s next words forced him to back down.

“You’ve changed a lot. You wouldn’t even make eye contact when you confessed to me.”

In a soft and gentle voice, Se-kyung reminded him of something the real Song Yi-heon had done.