The Death of the One Nobody Hates (5)
"...Hey, Mina. Shouldn't we head to the special lecture?"
The students, already fully prepared for class, glanced cautiously at Namgung Min and asked.
"Yeah. Let's go."
Namgung Min swallowed his rising curses with desperate effort and stood up. If he flunked out over something this ridiculous and lost his shot at topping the class ranks, it'd just be doing that bastard a favor.
"Hey! Next class isn't in the auditorium. They're calling all first- and second-years to the martial arts practice room right now."
A voice called out from behind Namgung Min and his crew, who were dragging their feet while grumbling.
"What? They're doing the special lecture in the dojo?"
"Dunno. Instructor Kang Cheol-gu was saying the first- and second-years have gone soft lately, something about lattes and all that, so everyone's supposed to gather in the dojo."
Namgung Min's eyes lit up in an instant.
"Hey! Mina, you hear that? Heh heh! Looks like this class is hands-on martial arts."
"That bastard Kang Cheol-gu is digging his own grave! None of you know Min's specialty. Mina! Show 'em what you got."
"He's a serving violent crimes detective, so he's gotta have the basics down at least. Shall we check it out?"
Putting on a calm, expressionless facade in front of the others, Namgung Min couldn't stop his lips from curling up maniacally.
Let's see just how hot shit this senior really is!
* * *
"Judo is based on the principle of yu jeok gwang gi—using soft to overcome hard, subduing greater strength with lesser force. That's the core of its techniques. For us police, who often can't strike suspects directly in the field, it's one of the most essential martial arts."
Kang Cheol-gu's lecture continued before 200 students. His muscles, visible through his judogi, looked plenty intimidating, but Namgung Min's lips were still twisted in a smirk.
Bet it's just street self-defense level, good for nothing but restraining drunks.
Namgung Min, who'd competed up to the national youth sports festival in middle school, glared at Kang Cheol-gu with defiant eyes.
"Given the nature of martial arts, it's better to spar directly than talk it to death...!"
"Mind if I learn a move or two?"
Namgung Min cut Kang Cheol-gu off as he scanned the students and raised his hand.
"Whoa! No way! Namgung Min's stepping up!"
"Even for Instructor Kang Cheol-gu, Min might be too much, right?"
In the midst of the students' excited and worried stares, Namgung Min stood without waiting for a reply. Amid a sea of blue belts, with the occasional navy, one guy with a well-worn black belt stood out starkly.
If a junior provokes like this, no senior could back down without losing face.
Namgung Min held back his bursting laughter and looked up—then his eyes wavered for a split second.
The expression on Kang Cheol-gu's face wasn't embarrassment or anger. It was regret. Like an elementary kid whose bag of snacks, saved for later, just ripped open, forcing him to eat them now.
Namgung Min's lips twisted despite himself, even as he always played it cool in front of the students.
"Looks like you've got some confidence. Show me everything you've got."
"You'll regret it, Senior."
Kang Cheol-gu crooked a finger to call him forward. Namgung Min ground his teeth at the instructor ignoring his title and going straight for "senior."
From here on, this wasn't teacher-student instruction. It was a senior-junior showdown, tacitly agreed.
But.
"Try again."
"Urgh!"
"...Again."
Thud! Boom!
They grappled over and over, but he couldn't get a grip. The moment he thought he had it, a deafening crash flipped his world—the gym ceiling rushing down at him.
Namgung Min's misfortune had been foreshadowed the instant he didn't know Kang Cheol-gu's field partner was Detective Kim Gwang-il.
* * *
"Hyungnim, you heading to the police academy for that special lecture?"
"Why? You wanna tag along as martial arts instructor, Gwang-il?"
"Aigoo! No thanks. Why would I tussle with those little punks? I've got my pride. ...But knowing your temper, hyungnim, you won't just sweet-talk from the podium. You'll probably beat the crap out of a few, so lemme give you a couple tips."
The lesson from a former national judo team member continued.
"Kids in their twenties are all hot blood rushing to their brains anyway. Get 'em riled up just right, and they'll charge in screaming for death. One thing to remember, hyungnim: counters. For the inner thigh throw they love, dodge that whipping left foot, and when they tip themselves over, shove with your right hand and hip toss. Outer thigh? Step back left, yank with both hands, and sweep—done. Textbook stuff. But please, don't make the kids cry. They're the future of Korean policing."
* * *
The youth sports festival judo prodigy couldn't breach the wall of a former national teamer.
As the students watched what was less a spar and more a one-sided beatdown, gasps of shock began leaking out.
"Yo, Namgung Min's crying."
"Nah, no way that ego corpse is... "
He kept getting back up, fueled by rage no matter how many times he fell, but his eyes had reddened unnoticed.
Gwang-il will chew me out if he finds out. Still, kid's got grit. A real man needs that fire.
Boom!
Namgung Min charged through tears, but his eyes suddenly glazed over.
"Hey! Namgung Min passed out!"
"Get him to the nurse quick!"
* * *
"...Mina, you coming around?"
A familiar voice rang out.
Passed out again?
Namgung Min shook his head hard and sat up. His skull throbbed.
This wasn't the dojo where he'd been grappling with that bastard Kang Cheol-gu moments ago. It was a stark white room.
"Where am I?"
"Nurse's office. You passed out."
I, Namgung Min, passed out in front of everyone...?
"Where's that bastard Kang Cheol-gu right now?!"
"Mina, give it up. He's not our level. That senior's..."
Senior?!
His classmates, who'd been cursing "this bastard, that bastard" right alongside him until moments ago, were now shrinking back.
"Where's Kang Cheol-gu!"
Grind. His jaw ached from clenching so hard.
"He's teaching kendo in the next room...! Hey! Mina, where you going?"
Fine, so the bastard knows a bit of judo? Kendo's a different story!
Namgung Min bolted for the kendo hall, eyes blazing.
* * *
Boom!
"Senior Kang Cheol-gu! One more round of guidance, please!"
Namgung Min burst in like he might shatter the door and thrust his bokken at Kang Cheol-gu, snorting furiously.
Young buck's recovering fast. Thought he'd be out for hours. Beating on him felt good, though.
"One more? Why? Scared? Huh?!"
Namgung Min bared his teeth at Kang Cheol-gu, who shook his head and rubbed his chin.
Min's not usually like this.
His crew gaped, mouths agape. The guy who always styled himself as a cool urban type, decked in superficial flair. But now? If he heard it, he'd charge spitting fire, but that cocky swagger somehow mimicked Kang Cheol-gu.
"...By the way, what's your name?"
"Second-year Namgung Min."
"Right. Gungmin-ah. You okay?"
"Urgh! It's Min! Namgung Min!"
His mentality cracked. If this guy interrogated him, he'd probably spill everything in a rage. Was this how he'd racked up his record?
Namgung Min's eyebrow twitched.
"Fine, Gungmin-ah. If you really want another, let's go. But looking at you, seems like you just wanna land one good hit on me. How about no bogu? No rules, till one of us drops."
"Deal!"
A kendo match without bogu. A skilled bokken had the destructive power to smash a ripe watermelon. Students gulped, but Namgung Min, eyes rolled back, stripped off his gear without hesitation.
But.
"What the hell are you doing?! There's a limit to looking down on people!"
Namgung Min bellowed like a raging bull in the ring.
Kang Cheol-gu, squatting in the corner like some village loafer out for a stroll, held only a single 60cm bokken.
Standard adult bokken were 120cm.
"Figured this'd be about right for you."
Kang Cheol-gu twirled the toy-like mini bokken and chuckled. Thus began Namgung Min's second misfortune.
With bogu and a proper match, it might not have been so one-sided. But.
Kang Cheol-gu had faced countless blades meant to take lives, not mere bokken. The swordsmanship of Cheon from Sinseon Island, ex-special forces, unfolded.
A blindingly fast thrust covered the shortest distance to Namgung Min's throat—unavoidable to the eye.
The knife work of I-su, Hiroi Izakaya owner and Yoon Kyung-yeong's hidden blade, revived through Kang Cheol-gu's hands.
Not one strike to subdue, but relentless terror forcing self-surrender. Namgung Min's eyes grew distant.
V Ban Hong, Vietnamese gangster killer since his early teens. No fancy forms—just raw, bone-crushing overheads. Namgung Min's mouth filled with the taste of blood.
And it wasn't enough? That infuriating Kang Cheol-gu pulled dirty tricks too. Feint high with his mouth, strike low at the waist. Call waist, then slam an illegal joint lock.
The pummeling dragged on.
What kind of psycho is this!
Breath scorching his chin, Namgung Min's vision blurred.
Kang Cheol-gu's coming to the academy special lecture?
His father, Namgung Cheol, only spoke when necessary. And he'd brought up Kang Cheol-gu first.
Yeah. But who's this senior Kang Cheol-gu?
Namgung Min had pried it out reluctantly.
...No personal ties, so I don't know details.
Namgung Cheol's eyes deepened in thought.
...But 'no straight tree grows under a crooked one.' Kang Cheol-gu's no ordinary guy. His father, Kang Hyeok—you know him—is like bamboo. Breaks before it bends. So his son... probably a straight-arrow cop, sharp as a knife gale.
Straight-arrow my ass! Dad, the guy's just a psycho!
...But I want you to surpass him. Use him as a model, train hard, then leap over.
Model a psycho?!
Shaking his head, Namgung Min let out a desperate kiai and charged. But the short bokken sliced air and cracked his crown.
As consciousness faded, Kang Cheol-gu's shout—"Wrist!"—followed.
* * *
Students gawked, mouths wide, as his crew carried Namgung Min out.
Two knockouts in three hours. Namgung Min was infamous for his arrogance and sore losing, but everyone knew his skills were legit.
Kang Cheol-gu, having sent him back to the nurse, swung his bokken at empty air, smacking his lips in lingering satisfaction.
"Was just getting into it... Tougher-looking than he is. Anyway, back to class."
Don't make eye contact!
Students desperately dodged his scanning gaze, shaking their heads.
Then.
"Ha ha! Already started? I'm a step late."
A familiar voice boomed through the kendo hall. All eyes turned to the door.
"Ah! Instructor!"
Like drowning men spotting a lifeline, the students' eyes sparkled with joy.