Chapter 4
After neatly arranging his affairs, Songtan returned home.
"Haaah..."
As soon as he arrived, he collapsed onto the sofa, sprawling out. Only after entering his sanctuary did the tension release, and his muscles relaxed.
"What is with this body..."
Even just breathing, he felt a pain that wrung his entire body. It was muscle soreness from using muscles he wasn't accustomed to.
"At least I don't have to do laundry today."
Normally, his school uniform would be covered in blood, so doing laundry was the first thing he did upon returning home.
"I need to build up my body right away."
He felt it acutely. To suffer this much just dealing with mere *fledglings* who weren't even twenty years old was almost embarrassing for someone who was once an elite of the Murim Alliance.
"*Life is full of ups and downs*, they say... My *Martial Arts*, which was once disregarded, is proving useful here."
Number Twenty-Eight had mastered only three types of *Martial Arts*.
*Taehyeongbo*, one of the *Murim Alliance*'s *Introductory Footwork* techniques.
*Acupoint Martial Arts Scripture*, which turned the *Acupoint Striking Method* into *Martial Arts*.
And finally, *Taejeongsimbeop*, which exemplified the pinnacle of colorless and odorless techniques.
All three were *Unconventional Martial Arts* that no *Martial Artist* preferred.
*Martial Artists* avoided *Taehyeongbo* because its focus on rear-centered movements gave the impression of fear and retreat.
*Acupoint Martial Arts Scripture* was bound to be unpopular because its purpose was to 'neatly' subdue an opponent rather than to kill.
But ironically, these attributes of the three *Martial Arts* were perfect for Number Twenty-Eight, who lacked *Martial Talent*.
Throwing his life on the line didn't suit his temperament, and a drawn-out fighting style didn't fit his weak internal energy.
Because of this, his unique *Acupoint Striking Method*, which could exploit an opponent's weaknesses, gave him an unusual competitive edge.
"Of course, that wasn't the only reason."
The reason why the untalented Number Twenty-Eight survived until the end, when all his *Classmates* perished.
His own special ability, which he had never revealed to anyone.
It was an intuition that sensed danger.
It was different from simply having good intuition.
In situations where he had to make a choice, an inexplicable chill would run through him, and goosebumps would rise all over his body. He had to avoid it at all costs. It was a signal that a life-threatening danger lurked.
Thanks to this ability, whatever superpower it was, he was able to safely leave the *Training Hall* and survive numerous dangerous missions.
As he lay sprawled on the sofa, organizing his thoughts about himself, he heard a sound.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-
*Click*-
The sound of the front door opening and a presence were felt.
"*Tani*?"
A middle-aged man of small stature peered out. He was less than 150cm tall, too short to be considered an adult.
It was *Song Bonggu*, *Songtan*'s father.
He was also a *person with dwarfism and a physical disability* whose spine had curved from an accident in his childhood, preventing him from growing properly.
"You're home, Father?"
Songtan sprang up from the sofa and quickly snatched the bags from his father's hands.
*Song Bonggu*, handing over the bags with a bewildered expression, looked at his son, whose aura had subtly changed.
"Didn't you go to school today?"
It was a natural question, as his son was usually never home at this hour.
"I went and came back."
*Song Bonggu* paused at the answer.
Wasn't this the son who always looked timid and barely responded when spoken to? But today, his voice was clear, and he didn't avoid eye contact.
*Song Bonggu* felt a strange sense of incongruity. But he didn't show it, placing something on the table.
"I bought some *Walnut Cookies* while I was in *Cheonan*."
"Perfect, I was just getting hungry."
*Song Bonggu*, watching his son smile and sit at the table, asked subtly.
"Did something happen while I was gone?"
At the extremely cautious question, Songtan smiled brightly and nodded.
"Many things happened."
"What things?"
"Before that, there's something I need to tell you, Father."
"To me?"
*Song Bonggu* found it hard to adjust to his son's changed demeanor.
"What could it be? What could my son be so serious about?"
"I want to quit school."
"School?"
Though inwardly flustered, *Song Bonggu* didn't show it. He simply asked calmly.
"Why? Don't you want to study?"
"It's not that. It's just that I don't think there's any point in continuing school life in my current situation."
"What... do you mean?"
Songtan calmly began to recount what he had endured so far. Of course, he omitted the part about dying two days ago.
"Huh..."
A sigh he could no longer suppress escaped him.
As his son's words continued, *Song Bonggu*'s eyes trembled violently.
Eventually, *Song Bonggu*, unable to bear it, lowered his head.
Tears dripped onto the floor.
"My goodness... How could such a thing..."
*Song Bonggu* couldn't bring himself to lift his head, overcome with guilt.
Anger at himself for not knowing his son had gone through such things,
an apology for his son, who must have suffered alone in pain,
Various other negative emotions swirled, constricting his chest.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, *Tani*. Father... Father should have paid more attention... Hmph."
After his wife passed away, he swore to heaven that he would raise his son to be second to none.
If his son wanted something to eat, he would go out and buy it, even in the early morning. If his son wanted something, he would work extra jobs, sacrificing sleep.
He thought he had raised his son like gold and jade, even asking acquaintances to attend school events like entrance or graduation ceremonies in his stead, just in case his son might be teased because of him.
He believed he had done his best to raise his son, so what was this thunderbolt from a clear sky?
He knew his son's face had grown darker and he had spoken less at some point, but he had simply thought it was puberty.
*Song Bonggu* hated his own complacency to death.
"Father."
*Song Bonggu* only continued to sob without responding.
"Father, please look at your son's face."
Only then did *Song Bonggu*'s head slowly lift.
His reddened eyes held nothing but apology for his son.
"How does my expression look right now? Do I look like someone who has given up everything and is running away?"
His expression and voice were too calm for someone who had gone through such a major ordeal, and only then did *Song Bonggu* slowly regain his composure.
"Quitting school doesn't mean giving up; it means I want to make a new start. I hope you'll trust my decision, Father."
*Song Bonggu* wiped his eyes with his sleeve once and nodded vigorously.
"I trust you. Of course, I trust you. If your dad doesn't trust his son, who will he trust? Even if the sky were to split, I'd still believe in my son."
Only then did a faint smile appear on Songtan's lips.
"Don't worry too much. Even if I don't go to school, I'll definitely pass the *High School Equivalency Exam*."
"You don't have to do anything. Your dad just hopes you find what you truly want to do."
Songtan's heart was warmed by that single, profound word of sincerity.
"Then I'll tell the school tomorrow that I'm dropping out. They'll probably contact you separately, Father."
"No. I'll go to the school tomorrow. Your dad will take care of everything now, so you don't have to worry about a thing."
"But you have to work."
"Nothing is more important than my son's affairs. You don't have to worry about that."
He couldn't help but worry.
His father was a *chauffeur* for the *President/CEO* of a *mid-sized enterprise*.
He wasn't in a position to take time off whenever he wanted.
But he couldn't dissuade him further.
Not after meeting his stubbornly gleaming eyes.
After that, the father and son didn't mention the matter again.
***
The next day, *Cheongsol High School*.
From early morning, the *Faculty Office* was as noisy as a marketplace.
"No, my child is in the hospital right now!"
"They said he was assaulted! Assaulted!"
"Is this what a student does!? He's a gangster!"
The *Homeroom Teacher* for *2nd Year, Class 3* had to swallow a sigh, watching the *Parents (of students)* spit and scream at the top of their lungs.
"Everyone, please calm down. You seem to be mistaken about something. That student is not the kind to do such a thing."
The *Homeroom Teacher* was dumbfounded. Songtan, a *School Violence Perpetrator*? He was quiet, as if he didn't exist, and always timid; the *Homeroom Teacher* simply couldn't comprehend that such a child was not the *Victim* but the *Perpetrator*.
"Quiet. I won't feel satisfied until that kid who did this to my precious son gets locked up."
A middle-aged woman draped in luxury brands fiercely pressed the *Homeroom Teacher*.
She was *Kim Hyeokjin's Mother*, known to have made a fortune as a *Licensed Real Estate Agent*.
"Hmph, let's not do this here. Let's move to the *Conference Room* first. There are too many eyes watching. And I'll bring the student in question so you can hear him out directly."
Only then did the *Parents (of students)*, realizing the sharp glares from onlookers, reluctantly uncrossed their arms.
"Hmph, bring him here right away. Let me see the face of the one who did this to my child."
"Yes, yes, please have some tea. I'll bring him right away."
As he went to fetch Songtan, the *Homeroom Teacher* continuously let out deep sighs.
***
A moment later, the *Conference Room* door opened, and the *Homeroom Teacher* and Songtan entered.
Immediately, sharp gazes poured down on him, as if they wanted to devour him.
"Is that him?"
"No, he's smaller than I thought..."
The *Parents (of students)* were flustered by his scrawny physique, which looked like it would snap if touched, but soon their eyes narrowed in anger.
It wasn't a particularly important factor, after all.
Contempt was evident in the glares directed at Songtan.
This was because they knew he was from a less fortunate family, living only with his disabled father.
So, they were even more unrestrained.
Songtan sat in the main seat in the center, and the *Parents (of students)* arranged themselves around him, as if encircling him.
Then began a barrage of one-sided accusations.
"How could you assault a *friend* from your own class!? Don't you know how serious a crime that is?"
"Can't you tell just by looking? It's obvious he wasn't raised properly."
"How are you going to take responsibility for this situation? Do your parents even know what you've done!?"
It seemed they had already concluded Songtan was the *Perpetrator*, with no intention of hearing the full story.
The *Homeroom Teacher* next to them, sweating profusely, tried to dissuade them.
"Excuse me! Mothers! Please don't badger him so much; perhaps you should listen to what he has to say..."
"What is there to listen to!? My child came home sobbing. You can't imagine how shocked I was... Haah. My heart is still pounding."
*Kim Hyeokjin's Mother* glared at Songtan with fierce, angry eyes.
Songtan simply rested his chin in his hand, listening as if it were someone else's story.
"Look, look! Look at him! He shows no sign of remorse! Kids like that grow up to kill people!"
Watching the screaming *Parents (of students)*, Songtan let out an involuntary chuckle.
Their barking and yapping, they not even knowing who the real killer was, felt like a farce.
"You! You just laughed, didn't you? I clearly saw it?"
"Madam, do you know how your son behaves at school?"
"What?"
Songtan held his head high.
His eyes were calm and astonishingly clear.
"First, they push you to make you fall. When you fall, they kick your stomach once to see if you can breathe. After that, no one needs to go first. Fists and feet start raining down. They mostly hit your back and stomach, alternating. So that if a bruise appears on your face, it won't be troublesome."
A momentary silence fell at his calm, almost monologuing voice.
"When you're lying on the ground from too much pain, they yell at you to get up. If you get up, they hit you again for getting up. If you block with your hands, they step on the back of your hand. They say it hurts less this way. But it actually hurts more. Your bones ache. They ask with a smile, 'Does it hurt?' If you don't answer, you get hit, and if you say it hurts, you get hit more. On rainy days, they drag you to *behind the playground*. They say it's good because the wet soil doesn't splash blood. They knock you down and press your face into the ground, telling you not to spit out the dirt that gets in your mouth."
Songtan looked at those surrounding him with an expressionless face.
"I've endured this for two years. Isn't it remarkable that I survived without dying?"
"W-what nonsense are you talking about..."
"And you were a group, and I was alone. Logically, it doesn't make sense that I did anything to them, does it?"
As if on cue, the *Parents (of students)* simultaneously fell silent.
Their faces showed they had no words to refute him.
"Th-that's something we don't know!"
"Right! He could have threatened them with a knife or something! What does the number of people matter then?"
"Or he could have brought accomplices we don't know about."
Songtan briefly considered it, amidst the endless stream of nonsense.
Whether he should just turn everyone here into imbeciles.
It was sickening to keep listening.
While reason and emotion clashed violently within him.
*Buzz*-
The *Homeroom Teacher*, who had been on the verge of despair, answered his phone.
His face stiffened in surprise.
Regardless, the *Parents (of students)* continued to raise their voices.
"Is there proof!? Do you have proof that our child did that!?"
At someone's shout, the *Homeroom Teacher* answered instead.
"There is."
Immediately, sharp glares turned to him.
The *Homeroom Teacher* silently picked up the remote control on the table.
"Teacher? What are you doing...?"
Then, the TV screen turned on, and a video began to play.
There was a desolate *Abandoned Factory*, with students in school uniforms holding wooden planks.
And there was the sight of them rushing towards a thin, small boy.
The faces of the *Parents (of students)* began to turn pale, their mouths agape like carp out of water.