The Brick Through the Windshield
A criminal minor not even subject to juvenile law. My head was filled with ways to make money.
I glared at the boy tapping my arm, my eyes laced with killing intent.
"Temporary class president!!!"
"Yes!"
The response came instinctively now. I glanced at our homeroom teacher glaring at me, then shot to my feet and saluted crisply.
Once morning assembly ended and the class grew noisy, my head spun from the morning's events.
That's when I spotted the boys next to me flicking coins.
"Do-hyun! Play with us!"
"I don't do that shit."
"I lost everything to Byung-chan. Avenge me."
"Go play by yourself."
Already pissed off enough, I had no patience for these annoying brats. I didn't want to take it out on someone else, so I let out a deep sigh.
"Come onnn~!"
I clenched my fist in my pocket at the kid yelling beside me. These little shits had zero sense.
They should know when to back off after a word or two...
Smack!Smack!Smaaack!
Six coins flipped over at once.
"Okay!!!"
"Whoa!!! Do-hyun's fucking awesome!"
"Gah! Do you punks know how much this is? Don't touch it! Or your hand's coming off!"
The coins piled up to 6,000 won. I'd taken kids to family restaurants with coin flicking back in the day, you brats. And these rich kids had plenty of allowance to burn.
Let them win a few rounds, then sweep the pot repeatedly, and the money multiplied like magic.
"Kuhahaha... haha... ha."
Reality from the morning's events crashed over me, and I slumped back into my seat.
"...??"
"Do-hyun, wanna stop?"
"Teacher's coming."
"Gasp!"
They scrambled to their seats, sobering up. For real. Not just because I hated getting chewed out by the homeroom teacher.
My pockets sagged low, almost down to my knees, jingling satisfyingly. Thanks to these brats still challenging me despite seeing my skills, I could now buy tteokbokki for Jun-woo and Yu-bin.
As expected from Hanlim Elementary School, right next to a rich neighborhood. The kids' allowances really drove home the wealth gap.
Speaking of which, Min-ji loved tteokbokki too...
I bought 3,000 won worth of sundae and tteokbokki, then hurried home after school.
When I got back, a computer was set up. I handed the bag of tteokbokki to my mom.
"Oh? Where'd you get the money?"
"Won it gaming."
"Do-hyun... Gambling is bad."
"Yeah."
Mom sighed after a moment's hesitation. She looked too drained to scold me further.
She showed me the computer. The interest on it would have been covered if we could, but I'd begged and pleaded for a year to get it.
Mom had tried pooling my saved allowance to buy it. The problem was the price exceeded her imagination.
With my smartphone, I'd planned for this. Not stocks—something that'd put cash straight into the bank.
Just copy future novels using the smartphone. Stealing? We're starving here; my conscience doesn't give a damn.
Let 'em regress themselves...
To prove Mom's choice was right, I flashed the brightest smile I could.
"Mommm!!!"
"Son... You have to study hard, okay?"
Her voice lacked strength, so I clenched my fist. I hugged her tight and nodded vigorously.
"I will!!!"
"Hehe~ Mom'll be watching?"
"Yeah."
Mom, clueless about computers back then, must've gotten scammed as a total mark. I wouldn't worry about that now.
Not when those two men's faces from this morning were burned into my brain.
Before regression, punks like them couldn't even meet my eyes. Hell, I'd run at the sound of their names...
I'd make Mom and Dad that strong too.
Mom needed urgent cash by month's end. After school, I rushed home and worked part-time jobs like a madman to help.
Even Min-ji helped out beside me.
Mom's plan was to borrow from the factory owner's wife, but with me here, no need.
Thanks to me, Mom could breathe easy. Seeing her expression—like a few hundred thousand won was everything—made my chest tighten.
Thanking me for the measly tens of thousands I'd scraped together...
With the immediate fire out, I barely slept, turning on the computer daily. No time to be picky about hot or cold water now.
The noisy cooler on this era's PC... Low capacity too, but copying novels didn't eat much space.
I powered up the smartphone and started transcribing.
A month later, I'd finished three novels. Heart racing, but publishers ignored my no-name submissions.
"No time to build a name online..."
Needed cash tomorrow.
"Do-hyun, it's late."
"...Yeah."
"Go to bed."
Mom knew I was up at dawn on the computer. But she didn't scold me anymore—once she realized it was writing, not gaming.
With her about to attempt something extreme tomorrow, my anxiety spiked.
Next morning. Today, Mom would try something drastic. Convinced those two thugs were the reason, I hid and watched.
Money...? That's not the issue anymore...
Just posting novels won't cut it.
Even for those loan sharks, it wasn't about the money with Mom.
I thought too naively.
I could protect Mom, but...
Murder...? If needed, I should have.
Message from the future...
I'd planned to profit off others' ideas by turning them into novels. But...
The message said I was heading the wrong way.
This life, I'd sworn off violence except against Nostradamus. But that was wrong too.
Sure enough, those two men I wanted to rip apart for the first time since regressing showed up at Mom's again.
They knocked, and when Mom came out, one stroked her shoulder with a lecherous grin.
Mom flinched away in fear but said something. I crept close to the wall to eavesdrop.
"You paid interest fine before—why late now? This isn't a game."
"Sorry... I meant to send it yesterday, but I got busy..."
Mom handed over an envelope with money.
One counted it while the other spoke.
"Sigh... You're still young, raising two kids in tough times—we get it."
His voice was soft, but his eyes boiled with greed as he eyed Mom. Rage quickened my breath; my body trembled.
The man pulled cash from the envelope, handed it back to Mom, whispering something. Her shaking hands and body made me bite my lip.
"Why so scared? If it's hard, just say so..."
"....."
"There are other ways to earn... Be on time next month."
"Yes..."
The man closed in with a sleazy smirk.
"By the way..."
My cooling head gripped the cutter knife in my pocket. Age nine—eight, full. Not even juvenile law applied.
Slashing a couple people? No red flags, no protective custody. Civil suit? Our broke-ass family has nothing to take.
Stabbing flesh? More familiar than hesitant.
Only question: could this small, frail body do it? Of course.
Punks like them? Piece of cake.
I'd image-trained countless times since. Even with error, this body could manage.
Fancy shells unused to pain—their brains freeze on a blade, screams first.
They'd fight, but two or three more slashes, and they'd beg for life.
But... if known, would Mom be happy her nine-year-old protected her? No...
Could I claim no regrets? No...
My gaze dropped to a brick on the ground.
Duh... When did I ever really plan?
Me, playing wise after regression? Fucking idiot.
I grabbed the brick and slowly approached their car. Without a second thought, I hurled it at the windshield.
Kraaaash!
The instant it hit, I bolted like hell.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"What!? What's happening!?"
No adult could chase me through these tangled alleys like a threadball.
Mid-escape, I vaulted building roofs, circled back to the car, and chucked a nearby flowerpot.
Kraaaash!
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"You motherfucker!!! Who's there!!!"
Sweating as I ran, it felt right—they'd forgotten Mom entirely.
I slipped the alley, confirmed the thugs left, then headed to school.