Juvenile Delinquents (2)
They were roughly the same size. The little shits were already...
"Once this job's done, let's take that fucker out first! He's such bad luck, shit!"
"Cool it. Don't you remember last time when Yong-cheol tried to mess with him and ended up fucked instead? The guy's got a temper like a bitch, but his skills are the real deal. We just use him up and toss him when we're done."
I locked eyes with the guys as they came down the stairs, cigarette dangling from their lips. One blew smoke in my face and bumped my shoulder as he passed.
Two shoulder checks in under ten minutes. From those little blood clots, no less. The urge to fold them in half at the waist was tempting, but I shook it off.
Climbing the stairs, I spotted Hyeok counting some ten-thousand-won bills.
"Ma Hyeok."
"Who... wait, who the hell are you? Not a teacher... pig?"
He didn't even turn his head, just clocked me with a sidelong glance. Sharp dynamic vision and quick reactions—this kid had it.
"Park Hyeong-jun and Tae-seok sent me. Got a favor to ask."
"Hyeong-jun hyung and Tae-seok hyung?"
His guard dropped, and his expression finally brightened a bit.
* * *
Ma Hyeok sat silently in the passenger seat of the car, listening to my story. He just stared out the window. His eyes landed on a faded entertainment ad plastered to an old utility pole.
"Boring."
That was all he said after ten minutes.
"So even you, Mr. Cop, just want me to beat someone up in the end. Those guys earlier too... everyone just wants the same thing from me. I thought it'd be different since my hyungs sent you... guess I was the idiot for expecting more. Life's so damn boring."
He lifted his head.
"If you need me, pay up. I'll do as much as you pay for..."
His voice was flat and emotionless. No spark or glow in his eyes like a kid his age should have.
His reaction didn't move me or stir any guilt.
"Heh. So this is what they call middle-school syndrome."
His eyes flashed red, and he bit his lip. His fists slowly clenched.
"Listen up, you little shit. You think your fighting skills make you hot stuff? Kids with your level of talent fill a truck if you raid every sports middle school. Life's boring? Cut the edgy bullshit. Who the hell are you to talk about life? You haven't even lived it yet. You think you know enough, but you don't. Real life is way more disgusting and filthy than this."
"Shut up! What do you know about me to talk shit?!"
His neck veins throbbed, and his fists rose slowly. His breathing grew ragged. I liked that fire in him.
"...Hyeong-jun said if you put your mind to it, you could conquer the boxing world."
Hyeong-jun. Boxing. World. Those three words hit, and his tight lips trembled. His eyes sank deep, like he'd remembered something lost. He steadied his breath and asked,
"Fine. What's catching those kids you want have to do with my dream? They gonna give me a champion belt or something?"
He was thrashing in denial, but his eyes desperately wanted to believe.
"You think they hand out champion belts for beating punk asses? Ridiculous. But I can show you the path to one. That's a promise."
He shook his head, then let out a hollow laugh.
"Guess I gotta visit Hyeong-jun hyung on his next day off and ask why he sent me a psycho cop like you. You're no ordinary cop—or adult, for that matter."
"Would a normal adult ask a kid to beat up another kid? Especially a cop?!"
He shook his head again and turned away.
* * *
"Detective Kim, how's it going? Where are those bastards now?"
- Ma Hyeon-dong demolition village. You got the address? Problem is, they just dragged another kid into an empty house. Should I take 'em out?
"No. Just hold position. We're almost there."
Round the corner, and there was Detective Kim's car. The big guy fidgeting in the driver's seat was kinda cute.
"Hyungnim, you're here? Whoa! Who's the kid next to you?"
"Later. Head home and rest up for today. That gray gate, right?"
I watched Kim Gwang-il's car pull out of the alley, then slipped on my mask. As I tugged on the black cap, Hyeok stepped forward boldly.
"Here. Put this on."
"What's this? Spider-Man mask? No way!"
He giggled like it was ridiculous when he checked the mask I tossed him.
"Bought it for Halloween. Brand new, so don't fuck it up. Blood stains mean death."
"Why Spider-Man of all heroes?"
I shrugged as he fiddled with the mask in his hand.
"You didn't see the movies? Time to show these punks the 'friendly neighborhood' side. Let's go."
* * *
"Sorry. I'll pay up next time for sure. I really got no money this time."
"You little shit! 'Pay up'? Sounds like we're extorting you. We're just borrowing. Write an IOU?"
"World's gone cold. You gonna snitch to your parents over a friend asking for a loan? Heh heh heh."
The situation was clear at a glance. Ma Hyeok pointed at them with his finger, then shrugged. 'Do what you want.' I winked, and Spider-Man's head nodded slightly.
* * *
"Stop! That's far enough..."
Silence hung... then laughter erupted.
"Puhahaha! What the fuck is that? Spider-Man?"
"Whoa, shit. Haven't seen a crazy creative fuck like this in ages."
"Right? Hero shows up, and now we're global villains expanding our turf! This real?"
Four guys stood around the one who'd assaulted the convenience store owner. A student knelt before them, covered in dirt, face bruised and swollen.
"You there on your knees... get outta here."
The victim kid flinched at Ma Hyeok's words, but one of the punks pressed down on his knee and asked,
"Who the hell are you?"
"Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
He'd grumbled at first, but now he was enjoying it. What a show-off! Left hand up, right still in his pocket.
"Crazy fuck!"
In an instant, the talker's right arm cocked back for a wild haymaker—what they call the 'whiff punch.'
Inside the mask, Hyeok was grinning. Pa-ba-bak!
Without pulling his right hand out, a double jab exploded from his left—the one fiddling with the mask. Bare knuckles, no gloves. It packed a punch. The first guy clutched his face and dropped.
"Come at me together. Got a lot to do today."
Everyone tensed at Hyeok's dry words. One grabbed a 2x4 from the demolition debris, nails hammered all over it.
"Die, you fuck!"
He dodged the wild swing lightly with his left foot as pivot. As momentum carried the guy forward, an uppercut slammed into his jaw. He faceplanted without a scream.
Hyeok's right hand was still in his pocket.
Hyeong-jun guaranteed it, alright. The kid's got serious skills.
Better than expected, even if I'd guessed.
"Want me to show you how to survive?"
Hyeok's voice echoed in the quiet demolition village.
"Beat me. Then you live. Fail... and you might die."
In the fight's chaos, the beaten kid had already bolted. Hyeok approached the two frozen punks. Step, step.
"Stop! We were wrong."
"Yeah, our bad. Won't happen again. We're minors—juvenile delinquents!"
They dropped to their knees, begging Hyeok. He called me over from the corner.
"What now?"
Their pupils dilated. They hadn't realized anyone else was there besides us two. Suddenly I was their lifeline—they grabbed my pant leg.
"Mister, save us! That guy's... anyway, he's gonna kill us."
"You're an adult, mister. Stop him!"
They ignored adults, milked their juvenile status, but begged for adult help when shit hit the fan, pleading their fragility.
"Why should I?"
I kicked off the hand on my pant leg like swatting a fly.
"Hey, Spider-Man. Keep going. I'll watch. Can't shoot webs like in the movies?"
It wasn't a fight anymore—just one-sided beatdown. He tuned the force perfectly to avoid knocking them out. As one dropped, a fist flew from the other side. Their bodies flailed like rice stalks in the wind. The guys who'd tormented the victim so viciously were reduced to herbivores begging permission to breathe.
"Getting boring now..."
Losing interest in opponents who couldn't fight back, Hyeok rubbed his knuckles and turned away, shaking his wrist.
"What? Keep going. You're a dangerous beast right now. Gotta finish the job!"
I cheered Hyeok on vigorously. The punks, thinking it was over and holding their breath, snapped their heads up. Their eyes begged: Where does this end?
Ignoring their stares, I asked Hyeok,
"Hey, Spider-Man. How old are you?"
"Fourteen by Korean age."
The beaten guys' eyes shook. W-what? Same age as us?!
"Birthday hasn't passed?"
"Nope."
"Then... kill those fuckers. It's fine. You're a juvenile delinquent. Law won't touch you."
Their faces went ghost white. I wondered what Hyeok looked like under the mask.
"Hmm. Always talking big about killing in fights... but I've never actually killed anyone. Wanna try today?"
After a brief silence, Hyeok nodded. His eyes gleamed faintly at the corners.
"Give it a shot. At your age, experience is everything. It'll turn into blood and flesh for your future life. And those aren't people—just trash. Clear 'em out to purify society. Time you did some good for this country, Korea."
* * *
"Please, spare us. Just let us live. Sob sob."
"We won't do it again. Waaah."
"Let me call my mom. I'll pay you."
"One more chance, please. I'll be good. Please! Sob sob."
Their crying hurt my ears. They knelt and clung to me.
"Ah, shut the fuck up!"
I yelled loud enough to make my ears ring less.
"I don't like helping the pitiful much. Save a hundred of 'em, and the world doesn't change. Better to smash the one bad fuck who makes a hundred pitiful ones—that's my philosophy. You've milked your juvenile delinquent status all this time. Now Spider-Man over there wants just one turn, once. That too much?"