Criminal Boy (1)
It was a bloodbath that no one could believe was just a middle school boxing match. The referee and the crowd alike couldn't even cheer—they were all glued to the ring. No fancy amateur footwork, no weaving or ducking. Just two fighters rooted in the center of the ring, trading brutal punches.
Then the bell rang.
The referee raised Ma Hyeok's hand.
"Ya! We won! We won! Inspector Kang, our Hyeok got the gold medal!" A roar burst from Councilor Park Man-cheol's mouth.
Even with the headgear on, Ma Hyeok's face was swollen puffy. He limped over to the councilor, and the two embraced fiercely as camera flashes exploded around them.
"Yes, Ma Hyeok. We thought you'd left the ring for good, but you've come back to claim victory. What's your take on it?"
"First, I'd like to thank the one person who showed me the right path." The kid looked right at me. "And I'll share this glory with Councilor Park Man-cheol, who helped me stay on that path."
Ma Hyeok turned his head, scanning the crowd. At the end of his gaze sat a boy his age, on his feet clapping wildly. Face flushed red, the kid chanted "Ma Hyeok!" over and over, screaming at the top of his lungs.
* * *
"Come on, eat up! This flower's top sirloin is killer!"
Councilor Park's face was flushed from the booze as he kept pushing meat on everyone. With his other hand, he scrolled through news articles on his phone.
"Check this out! 'Last Chance for a Middle Schooler Who Gave Up His Dreams Due to Family Struggles.' They nailed the voiceover. All thanks to you, Inspector Kang. Haha!"
Ma Hyeok stepped away to take a call, and the councilor—now a bit calmer—leaned in toward me slyly.
"What? Do I seem too self-centered? Can't help it. You might not get it, but politicians live off public attention. A monkey falls from a tree and it's still a monkey, but a politician loses an election and he's just some uncle. We've got no choice but to stake our lives on name recognition."
"No, I get it completely."
The councilor got his political base, and Ma Hyeok got a shot at focusing on boxing. Win-win for everyone.
"How's Ha Yeon been lately?"
"She's turned into a model kid—studying hard, listening well. Makes you wonder if she ever gave me grief. She threw such a fit about tagging along to meet you today. Haha. You've fixed my daughter problem and introduced me to a kid worth sponsoring like Hyeok. I'll repay this debt someday."
I stepped out of the barbecue joint for some air, leaving his laughter behind. That's when I spotted Ma Hyeok rubbing his ankle.
"Looked pretty natural, the way you ran into the councilor's arms after the match."
"Ah, Detective. Gotta flash that capitalist smile for the sponsor, right?"
That wasn't middle-school talk anymore. But expecting innocence from a kid who'd quit boxing he loved over money? That was asking too much. I just nodded.
"...Now spill it."
"Spill what?"
"You won, but that wasn't your boxing in there. What gives?"
Ma Hyeok's style was footwork boxing—precise outboxing hits off intricate steps. That infighting didn't suit him at all.
"Hoo. Busted, huh?" He let out a low sigh and rolled up his pant leg. His calf below the knee was black and blue. The kind of injury that could've snapped bone.
"Not the sort of damage you pick up in boxing. What happened?"
"Truth is, after practice yesterday on my way home, some high school punks picked a fight. There were a bunch of them, armed too, so I took a beating."
"You gotta watch yourself before a match. But they jumped you for no reason? Doesn't add up."
"...Well, actually." His lips twitched.
"Nah, forget it. It's all over now. You know I used to run with a bad crowd myself. Call it karma."
Something was there, but Ma Hyeok clammed up.
* * *
"Whoa, hyungnim, check this out!"
"What? Some case?"
Detective Kim Gwang-il wrinkled his nose and handed over the tablet.
"It's from Jungcheon District next door. High schoolers got middle schoolers to rob a convenience store blind. Told 'em even if they get caught, they're juveniles—no punishment. But that's not all. They even bet ten million won on inter-school brawls. Winner takes the pot from the losers. Kids don't have that cash, so the losers robbed their own classmates, turning it into round two. Lucky our precinct's clean on this stuff."
I tapped the tablet he'd passed me. Teen crime was spiking in Jungcheon lately, and this was the latest.
Then a familiar name jumped out: Lead detective, Gwak Du-sik?
In the original timeline, Gwak would've been forcibly transferred here to Gangcheon Station in two years, 2015. Busted for taking bribes from suspects' parents to bury cases during his Jungcheon stint, he became the chief's lapdog—clashing with me at every turn. After my dad died, he got bold, mocking my demotion outright.
With him on the case, no real investigation.
I logged into the police intranet and pulled the file. My eyebrows shot up higher with every click.
Convenience store robbery. School violence. High schoolers hiring muscle.
One name popped up in every single one: Jin Woo-cheol, second-year at Yuseong Foreign Language High School.
Yuseong Foreign Language was one of Jungcheon's top elite schools. This kid from that place at the center of all this? And Gwak Du-sik handling every case?
There was more to this.
* * *
"Yoo Hyeong-in, you little shit! What's your excuse for backing out?"
"I don't wanna live like this forever! I'm done."
A pre-teen boy's shouts echoed from a multi-family housing construction site in Yeongin-dong, Jungcheon District. Five or six high schoolers had him cornered.
"Hey! Don't you need money? What, things too cushy now?"
"I don't need that kinda cash. I wanna train. I'm going back to boxing!"
"Oh, so you're chasing your dreams!"
A low voice leaked from the corner. One shadow detached from the group and stood.
"Damn, that's the freshest bullshit I've heard all year. Dreams? Nice. Right, Hyeong-in?"
A voice too gravelly for a teen. Even Yoo Hyeong-in, who'd been yelling back, stumbled away instinctively.
"U, Woo-cheol hyung! Just let me go...!"
Thwack!
It was invisible. Even to Yoo Hyeong-in of the Seoul lightweight boxing club, the punch that floored him was a blur.
"Think anyone's got the right to dream? Only the qualified get dreams!"
A brick from the site entered his grip. Woo-cheol smashed it down on Hyeong-in's right hand as he lay there. Blood sprayed; flesh tore. Even the other kids recoiled at the savagery, blinking in shock.
Clatter! The shattered brick hit the ground.
Jin Woo-cheol handed a fresh one to a kid nearby.
"Here, Seon-u. You first. Make sure he never dreams again."
"...What?"
"Smash his fucking hand! Need me to say it twice?"
"......!"
"Everyone here's an accomplice now. Any complaints, speak up."
The hands taking the brick shook violently.
* * *
The kid who'd cheered Ma Hyeok on throatily at the nationals final now lay pale in a hospital bed. IV drips fell one by one from the line—like tears from the boy's eyes.
Ma Hyeok stood silently by his side, as the kid stared blankly at the wall.
"...That bastard, huh?"
"......"
"Sorry. My fault."
The kid's gaze slowly shifted to his own hand. Fingers twitched beneath thick plaster. He gritted his teeth, straining—but it wouldn't budge an inch.
A twisted smile of total surrender formed on his lips.
Bam!
The cast-wrapped hand slammed the wall with a guttural roar. Plaster shards flew everywhere, shredding the room.
"Aaaargh!"
"H-Hyeong-in! Snap out of it! What's wrong with you?"
"Sir, calm down! Everyone out. He needs rest!"
The startled doctor chased me and Hyeok out of the room.
"That kid—you saw him at my match, right? What happened?"
"Sorry. We tried handling it ourselves, but you're the only one I could think of."
"His name's Yoo Hyeong-in, from my boxing club." Hyeok swallowed hard. "Old buddy from back when. Guess seeing me back in the ring lit a fire under him. After your match, he said he wanted dreams too. Said I gave him courage. So I cheered him on, but..."
His voice cracked.
"So this friend's in some gang, trying to quit, and got revenge-beaten for it?"
"Don't say it like it's simple! Jin Woo-cheol's no ordinary bully."
Jin Woo-cheol. The name from Hyeok's mouth.
"You mean Jin Woo-cheol, second-year at Yuseong Foreign Language High?"
"Yeah! How do you know that punk?" Ma Hyeok's eyes widened.
Confirmed from the files. Center of school violence radiating from Jungcheon's high schools.
"Comes with the job. That Jin Woo-cheol did this to your friend?"
"Yeah. Not just Hyeong-in. Kids in Jungcheon are too scared to even say his name."
"You report it to the cops?"
"Report?"
Pointless question with Gwak Du-sik leading. Sure enough, his voice rose.
"They did at first. But his dad's some big local shot—super connected. Walks out of the station in an hour, and the kid who reported? Vanished after. Forced transfer rumors. Now victims don't report—they just shut up and watch their step."
"Those punks who jumped you on match day—his crew?"
"Yeah. Said I put ideas in Hyeong-in's head. Tried keeping it quiet so it wouldn't blow back on him, but..."
As Ma Hyeok's head drooped, the doctor emerged.
"How's the patient?"
"Sedated and sleeping now. Other spots are just bruises—should heal fine. But..." The doctor frowned. "Right hand's a compound fracture, severe. Tendons shredded by bone fragments. Even with treatment, no guarantees on full recovery. Kids these days... they're not kids."
A 15-year-old's dream, crushed. And the cop on it was clowning around.
My eyes darkened.