Everyone, Sit Down
"Everyone, sit down."
The students who'd just returned from lunch stared at me in bewilderment, so I draped the homeroom teacher over the lectern like a wet rag.
"I won't say it twice. Sit or don't. Anyone who doesn't sit right now gets tied to a chair and forced to listen to Justin Bieber's Baby on repeat for eight straight hours."
One by one, boys and girls alike shuffled to their seats. It had nothing to do with me hoisting the burly teacher up with one hand and plunking him on the desk.
"Who's the class rep? Oh, wait—do they even pick class reps anymore?"
"That's me..."
A horn-rimmed glasses kid who looked like he was born to bury his nose in books timidly raised his hand.
I singled him out and yanked him to his feet.
"You're the class rep. That means you do whatever the homeroom teacher says, pass on announcements, and hear and see all sorts of shit. Am I wrong? Speak up if I am."
"Y-yeah, you're right."
"Then you must know all about Choi Jiyun too, huh?"
At the mention of Choi Jiyun, the glasses kid's eyes started twitching. He rolled them around like he had no idea where to look—pretty damn cute.
"Sit."
"......"
I grabbed the teacher's head from where it dangled off the lectern, hoisted him up, and slammed him back down.
BAM!
"Kyaaaaaaaack!"
"Fuck! The psycho!"
"Sh-should we call the cops?!"
"Who the hell is that guy?"
"Why's he looking for Jiyun...?"
"She didn't come to school today."
Fresh reactions from these green kids. Sirens wailed outside like cop cars were closing in, but I couldn't give less of a shit.
"I don't buy into this innate goodness or innate evil bullshit. Every living thing makes the optimal choice—or the most efficient one—based on its environment and situation from the moment it's born. And that tendency stands out most in humans, with our high intelligence, diverse ideologies, and rich emotions. Hell, it's practically unique to us."
I used the smart pen on the 2025 touchpad blackboard—no more chalk these days—to wipe away the words innate goodness and innate evil.
"It's nonsense to say everyone's born purely good or evil, but we are deeply shaped by our surroundings. Take you kids—you've lived cushy lives without a care, assuming that's just how it is. I know, sounds like I'm some commie ragging on capitalism, but nah. I love money. I'd fuck money and mass-produce babies with it if I could. What I'm getting at is that 'normal' in your heads."
Normal. Obvious to some, absurd to others. But familiarity turns anything into normal, obvious or not.
"Senior year ramps up the academic pressure, parents nag you to study nonstop, and meanwhile, some kids who are doing better—smarter, cooler—form exclusive cliques that freeze everyone else out. The outcasts lick each other's wounds or seethe with jealousy. That's your normal. So even if, say, some hotshot rich kid lords over this place like a king, you'd just accept it as normal. You know the types: assemblyman's spawn, chaebol heirs, minister's brats. Every school has 'em. Especially in Gangnam—no way around it."
I dropped the hint, and the kids started eyeballing each other.
They didn't need to pipe up with "I'm an XXX"—I already knew. Those types reek of it, no sin fragments needed. As an ex-salesman who clawed from rock bottom and kissed the asses of the elite, I could spot it a mile away. Fail to read the room, and you're the idiot.
"Let me be clear: I'm not here to lecture you old-school style. I was a holy terror in school myself. Congenital anger issues—anyone who fucked with me got their corn turned inside out, no exceptions."
The thrill of those fists still lingered. Made me wonder if humans really are born evil. Anyway.
"One H Group chaebol heir. Two assemblyman's kids. One minister's spawn."
Four guys huddled together at the back by the window. In a mixed class, dudes sticking that close like gays? Spotted 'em the second I walked in.
"Sure, you've got money, bright futures—maybe you messed with some girl beneath your league. Teens are a hormonal shitstorm, right? Like I said, I'm not here to scold you motherless fucks. I'm here to take it out on you because you fucked up my job."
Footsteps pounded down the hall—heavy ones, not kid-sized. Cops for sure.
I grabbed the teacher by the scruff and hurled him at the door just as it burst open. Two cops ate the full bulk and tumbled into the corridor.
"If you assholes hadn't pulled that shit yesterday, my job today would've been a breeze. Wrapped in half a day, pocketed five hundred grand, grabbed some kongnamul gukbap. Easy."
Cops yelling? Whatever. I slouched back, scowling at the kids who thought the police would save their asses now. They knew what they'd done and strutted like kings anyway.
"Hey, mister. Don't know what you are, but you seem to know us. Play nice and let the cops haul you off. Don't be a dumbass and make it worse."
"Heh, going too far, Donghyun? You're making the big bro cry."
"Dude, 'big bro'? With that face? Just some old fart."
"Cops! This psycho's nuts—take him away! Juvenile hall's for retards, right?!"
"Ugh-heh-heh, crazy fuck... heh!"
One more time: I was here to vent. These pricks made that cafeteria bitch raid her daddy's safe and bolt with two million in cash and checks. If it'd been today instead of yesterday, I could've wrapped my gig clean and cut ties.
"Cops are so fucking useless. Can't even nab one crimi—urk!"
I snatched an assemblyman's kid by the collar and chucked him out the window. A thud echoed from below—not surprising. Third floor; gravity's a bitch. Newton's law in action—what's the big deal?
"Wh-what...?"
I grabbed the sidekick's collar too—BANG! A blank round cracked through the classroom center. One cop had thumbed past empties to fire a warning shot. Next pull? Real bullets. First cop to shoot a gun in a school this century.
Didn't matter. I snagged another assemblyman's kid and yeeted him out. This time, the real BANG! came late but sure. The bullet shredded thigh muscle, splintered bone.
Didn't matter. Next, the minister's kid—clawing my arm, thrashing. Easy toss.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! More shots, kids diving under desks, some sobbing in panic. Cops prioritizing shots over evac made sense—people flying out the window.
Didn't matter.
"D-don't come closer, you fuck!!!"
"Wasn't it 'today or else'? Yesterday you told Choi Jiyun to wear the slutty lingerie you bought her and meet after school, or you'd get her dad—H Group's H Steelworks director—fired. Said directors are contractors, easy to axe."
"Th-that's... what the fuck does it matter?!"
"She cleaned out Daddy's safe this morning—two mil cash, checks—and split. Why? What was a sheltered high school girl gonna do with all that?"
"How the fuck should I know...!"
"That's why you're getting sidelined as heir, dipshit. Obviously she's shopping for a hitman to take you out."
With that, I slung the chaebol heir over my shoulder to block their shots and leaped out the window. Tossed him mid-fall—he'd land somewhere. Believe in Jesus, maybe sprout wings.
Thud! He hit beside the others—limbs snapped, foam at the mouth, legs twisted. Passed out. Thrown feet-first; of course he lived.
"Oh, right."
I snapped the smart pen from class, sharpened the end, and carved a pattern on his tongue: an upside-down fish. A fish crawling from surface to abyss—no one finds it. No one sees it. No one remembers.
"Oh god! What happened?! Why are these good kids jumping?!"
Teachers and more cops rushed past me to the moaning students. I strolled to the school lot, fired up the pickup truck.
Venting done. Time to scour the alleys. What a pain in the ass.