The Sneaky Field Trip and the Drunken Principal

We woke the twins from their beds in the emergency center and got them out of the building. I barely managed to talk Lee Seohyeok out of trailing after us like a duckling and sent him back to work.

In case anyone needed reminding, neither of us had clocked out yet.

"Seora, Seoro. From now on, we're going *shhh* all the way, okay? Got it?"

And that brings us to the present, where the twins and I are crouched in hiding beneath the kindergarten wall.

...Yeah. Let's just be honest with ourselves at this point.

There was no dressing this brazen act of unauthorized departure up as some convenient "off-site errand."

Not that I even considered the alternative of confessing everything to the principal. That option never made it past the drawing board.

So the only question left was: don't get caught. Simple.

I pressed a finger to my lips in a solemn, battle-ready gesture. The twins mimicked me, fingers to their mouths, and nodded.

Nice.

I raised myself a few inches and peered over the wall at the yard stretching out in front of the kindergarten's main gate.

Coast is clear.

I pressed my back flat against the wall. The twins, less gracefully, smooshed their bellies against it.

"Teachee, what we doin'?" (Teacher, what are we doing?)

Seora's soft cheeks were squished against the wall, mangling her pronunciation. I wiped the tear-streaked corners of her eyes and said,

"Hmm... let's call it hide-and-seek?"

The only problem being that this was hide-and-seek where getting found meant game over.

We crept along, step by careful step. I checked corners, swept my surroundings, glanced back now and then to confirm the twins were still shadowing me properly.

-Creeeeeeak......

Through the main gate. Good.

Maybe it was all that caution paying off—here we were, the objective practically within arm's reach, and not a single soul had spotted us.

...Just a little farther now.

Almost there. I was reaching for the handle of the entrance door when—

"Hwiyeon...nim? Teacher?"

In an instant, I had the rare, scientific-phenomenon experience of the surrounding air dropping a good five degrees below freezing. My stiffening brain lit up warning lights on full blast.

"Teacher Hwiyeon?"

At the urging of that voice, I finally turned around, slowly. The twins were staring up at me, frozen solid as stone.

I'm sorry, kids.

"...Director."

The balding, fifty-something director had the kind of warm, grandfatherly face that a stranger might easily mistake for a friendly neighbor from the apartment complex next door.

But I knew better. I knew exactly how long-winded and narrow-minded that warm face really was.

Those narrowed eyes were sweeping over me, and now over the two kids behind me.

Weren't you supposed to knock someone out with a sharp chop to the base of the neck?

No. That would require a hand-blade on the level of Kwon Haeseong, I think.

"Teacher Hwiyeon? What are you looking at?"

My overloaded brain kept trying to spew out bizarre, off-target conclusions. Cold sweat beaded down my back as I wrestled down the intrusive nonsense.

Okay. Time to actually say something, anything—

"Teacher Hwiyeon!"

-Thwack.

Her vice grip clamped around my forearm, and I barely managed a response.

"...Yes."

I scrambled to compose my expression and fish out a plausible excuse... then cleanly gave up on even that.

If I get caught for this, so be it.

Strictly on the facts, I hadn't done a single thing right.

Even granting that my intentions were good—I'd let the twins' worry over Lee Seohyeok sweep me up along with them, wrangled the two kids out the door, and scaled the kindergarten fence.

This was the kind of thing that earned you the speech: forget whether it was right or wrong—if you're going to do whatever you want, what are rules even for, and why did you join this kindergarten in the first place?

So yes. Getting caught was the correct outcome. I was, after all, an employee here.

"......"

I finished organizing my thoughts. I would take my scolding cleanly and reflect on my mistakes.

...But for some reason, instead of the chewing-out I was braced for, the director began weaving a misunderstanding entirely of her own invention.

"Ahh, outdoor activities, something like that? Must be all that early childhood education training. You lot come up with everything."

You can misread it like THAT?

"Kids are kids—turn them loose on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a playground and they entertain themselves just fine. Honestly, you didn't need to go this far."

Her skeptical gaze snagged on some spot behind me. I turned slightly to follow her line of sight.

There, just past the twins, was a small half-tended garden plot.

Isn't that the garden Teacher Edeun looks after?

Little plastic markers were stuck in the dirt like nameplates, and in tidy rows behind them, seedlings had sprouted.

Lettuce, perilla leaves, herbs, potatoes.

I found myself absently reading the plant names written out one by one in permanent marker... and then it clicked, naturally enough.

Oh. I get it now.

What the director had seen, and what she'd misread it as.

A few trowels lying around the garden, plus the twins looking absolutely filthy with dirt from playing at the playground before we'd met up with Lee Seohyeok. She'd pieced together her own theory from the evidence.

If you're going to misunderstand in my favor, far be it from me to complain.

So I didn't correct her. Instead, I simply donned my Professional Adult Smile and added a garnish of commentary.

"Well, you see, playing the same way every day gets boring, even for them. I figured it might be nice to use the time to teach them how to tend plants and learn the value of life while we were at it."

The bald-faced lie rolled off my tongue without a single hiccup. I'd said I was ready to be scolded, mind you. Never once did I say I wanted to be.

I turned naturally to put the director at my back, knelt down in front of the twins, took their hands, and performed a detailed little pantomime of brushing the dirt from their palms.

"You've got so much dirt on you. Let's go inside, wash up quick, and have snack time."

"...Okay! Today was so fun!"

"Teacher, what's snack today?"

"......!"

I'd been trying to drum myself out of this mess single-handedly, but bless their hearts, the kids jumped in to help.

"Snack is roasted sweet potato. Next time, let's plant sweet potatoes in the garden too."

When I lowered my eyes as if I'd been genuinely touched, the twins beamed up at me, radiant.

What an reassuring world we live in.

"There was a garden over there? Goodness, spending company money on every whim under the sun. Anyway~ you two had better treat your parents well!"

"......?"

Did I hear that wrong? Was that a dog barking?

"Kids these days, I tell you! Not a shred of gratitude toward their parents! Do you two even know what filial piety is?"

A finger, visible even at an angle, was pointed unambiguously at the twins. I rose slowly to my feet and looked down at her.

"...Ha."

A sigh laced with a whisper of disgust escaped me.

The stuff you'll say in front of children.

The guilt I'd been feeling over causing trouble left and right evaporated on the spot, replaced by a surge of pure irritation.

The director ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked up at me, who had suddenly appeared right in front of her. I was just about to quietly reason with her and send her on her way when—

What the—what's wrong with her all of a sudden?

The director couldn't keep her balance. Her feet skidded left and right, she hauled herself upright, groped at empty air a few times, and then started huffing and puffing for breath.

Whoa, whoa. What is happening?

...And as I watched the spectacle, a smell suddenly stung my nose.

Alcohol.

I ducked my head, then lifted it back up. I could feel anger smoldering upward from the very depths of my core.

Youabsolute—

Now that I looked, her neck was flushed scarlet all the way down, she was hiccuping between words, and soju was dripping steadily from the convenience-store pouch in her hand—and she hadn't noticed a thing.

"Ha......"

It was honestly impressive that I hadn't clocked it sooner, what with my attention consumed by the cover-up operation.

"Hiccup! Ooh, lucky thing, born with good blood in your veins—getting to attend a fancy corporate kindergarten like this, and later you'll be a Hunter or whatever and live the good life without lifting a finger, huh?"

Is there no way to tape that mouth shut?

"Must be ni~ice. Back in my day, everyone was ordinary! All we had to fight with was money and brains! Those two things, and nothing else!"

Needless to say, they had.

I rested a hand on my hip to keep my body and mind steady. I was thoroughly blocking the kids' line of sight, so no harm done there.

Come to think of it, this guy was the only civilian on staff, wasn't he.

People like this were rare, but I'd encountered the type before.

People with a grudge against Awakeners.

Though usually you only found them online, or among the older generations who'd lived long enough to resent the change.

And this guy was taking it out on the most defenseless targets available—children...

"You think I wanted to live like this? Do you know how many thousands I had to shovel out just to land this dead-end director's seat...!"

"......"

Negligence and drinking on the job, now followed by bribery and nepotism allegations.

What an educational day this was turning out to be. So many unpleasant truths, so little time.

I drew in a deep breath and let it back out. At this rate, I was genuinely worried I might die of stress.

"Hiccup!"

Watching someone act so far beneath their age, a hollow laugh leaked out of me all on its own.

Half to cool my head, I tilted my face up toward the sky and—

"Hm?"

Instead of clear blue heavens, I witnessed a very strange scene.

Human silhouettes were pressed up against the third-floor window of Seal Class. Looking closer, it wasn't just Kwon Haeseong and Kang Sagwa—every single one of the other children had their faces smooshed flat against the glass.

What are they doing up there?

At that moment, Taejae, whose eyes had met mine, waved at me.

I smiled and waved back.

My view drifted naturally sideways and landed on Kwon Haeseong and Kang Sagwa. The two of them had their arms raised over their heads and were signing at me with frantic, elaborate gestures.

What are they trying to say?

"Teachers like Na Hwiyeon just phone it in~ You can pour your heart out for these little things all you want, but they won't remember a bit of it when they grow up. Little ingrates who'll never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know the debt they owe."

I caught the director on pure reflex as her knees buckled toward the ground.

...Yeah, I can't listen to any more of this. I shifted my hand from the supporting left arm to her shoulder with my right.

I'll just fold you up nice and put you in the principal's office. Or bury you in some corner somewhere. One of the two.

Let's go, soju ajumma.

"Director, let's—"

-BANG!

The moment I put my weight into her shoulder to haul her up, the third-floor corridor window rattled violently open.

And then came a shriek of pure, unfiltered panic.

"Teacher Hwiyeon!! D-don't hit him!"

"I'll... I'll come down there...!"

...Huh?

"You did well."

Kang Sagwa praised me with an expression that seemed entirely sincere. I accepted the awkwardly offered coffee and replied.

Don't tell me—

"You're praising me for not hitting the Director?"

"Yes."

No, I mean—I was never planning to hit him in the first place, so.

"Actually, a few of the former Dolphin Class teachers quit, but a few of them were fired too."

"Ah... I see."

"The Director enjoys his drinks, and every so often that turns into an incident..."

Considering the context, it sounded like the Director's drinking and his incidents had directly led to my predecessors' dismissals.

Shouldn't the person causing the incidents be the one who gets fired, though?

Not that the Director looked like the type of man capable of the conscience-driven, voluntary resignation such a situation would demand.

Right on cue, Kwon Haeseong registered my unspoken question and began to explain.

"...He used to lose all restraint when he drank, and pick fights with every teacher who walked past.... Most people pretended not to hear and kept walking, but sometimes things escalated."

Escalated to what—assaults and full-blown brawls, I'm guessing.

"But things have calmed down a little since Teacher Jinchae had a word with him."

I had no idea what Yoo Jinchae had actually done to him, but broadly speaking... I got the picture.

They were telling me that, like my predecessors, I had the option of resolving this with violence or public screaming matches.

"Does he do this often?"

"About twice a week."

"If you just let him sleep it off in the director's office, it's fine.... He rarely comes out of there once he's in."

Hold on. Now that I'm listening to all this, something is deeply off.

Why are you two so serene about it? Like people who've simply accepted everything and given up.

And while it feels a bit strange to be the one pointing this out—the CEO's own younger brother attends this kindergarten.

You could just report it up the chain, no?

I relayed the thought the instant it occurred to me, completely unfiltered.

"What about reporting this to headquarters?"

"......"

"...Hm."

Their eyes crossed in a silent exchange.

I read that subtle negotiation of glances in a heartbeat.

Useless, then.

"Why not? This might be an awkward thing to say, but we have Cheonji in our class."

Which, I realize, comes off a little like we have an S-rank legendary monster on the premises.

Be that as it may—the blood relative of a heavyweight among heavyweights attends here, and this is the attitude? Incomprehensible.

"The Director is related to one of the headquarters division chiefs. And, well... word is, he paid his way in with a bribe on top of that."

That part I'd overheard by accident earlier too.

So that parachute appointment was even more high-end than I thought.

Blood ties. So textbook it wasn't even shocking.

Still, surely that alone couldn't have carried him this far.

Right on schedule, Kang Sagwa answered the question for me.

"Of course, that alone wouldn't have let him keep his seat all this time. The problem is that the Director is smarter than he looks."

Oh? The guy who cracks open a soju pouch in broad daylight, that guy?

Kwon Haeseong scratched his head and picked up the baton from Kang Sagwa.

"...The second an audit shows up, or the parents come by, he straightens up like a perfect angel. Or he just... makes himself scarce.... And we don't have any connection high enough to properly report any of this to, so..."

In other words: you probably could. I took another sip of coffee and kept quietly absorbing the information.

"On top of that, since it's a company-affiliated kindergarten, the oversight is lax. Nobody cares. It can operate or not operate, doesn't matter either way. Parents with Awakened children are grateful to have any childcare facility at all."

Just as I'd been rejected by kindergarten after kindergarten for the sole crime of being an Awakener, the children here had been rejected for the same reason.

And then they got shunted from place to place until they all washed up here.

"The parents send their kids here because they have no other choice. We're the ones benefitting—no teaching licenses between us, and yet we get to hold down jobs and collect paychecks because of it."

How did the conversation even turn into that?

At Kang Sagwa's caustic self-assessment, I quietly set down my coffee and slipped in a word.

"Caring for children is hardly easy. You're more than qualified to draw a salary."

Anyone who's raised a child knows. This is grueling labor, body and mind alike.

You spend six hours minimum at a stretch giving near-constant, attentive care, and I refused to stand by while people talked about their own position like it was some kind of scam.

Talk like that, and people start thinking childcare is easy for everyone.

"...You think so?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Mm, that's right. You should get paid."

"Yes. Insist on it."

Good, that's the spirit. Watching them actually take the encouragement, Kwon Haeseong circled back to the original topic.

"Um, that's, that's why I stopped you earlier.... No other reason, I was just... afraid you'd get fired, Teacher..."

No, I'm telling you—I had zero intention of hitting anyone?

"I can tell you're both operating under some kind of misunderstanding here, but I was never—"

I shook my head wearily and turned to face the two of them, ready to clear the air.

That was when it happened.

-Ding!

"......"

Damn it all.

Is there seriously no way to mute this thing?

I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made a clean escape, and here it was starting up again.

Straining to refine my words down to something presentable, I swerved away from what I'd been about to say and pivoted to a different question entirely.

"Can I ask you something out of nowhere?"

"Of course."

"...Yes, go ahead."

Right. These people were Awakeners too—they might actually know something about this kind of phenomenon.

"Is ability control supposed to be this impossible to manage?"

Does this bastard status window just do whatever it wants as a rule?

Needless to say, the option of mentioning the status window, or my assorted other freak abilities, was off the table.

Getting treated like a lunatic once in this lifetime was plenty.

"No."

"...Why not?"

Contrary to my hopes, though, Kang Sagwa came back with a fairly firm denial.

"Because we're well past the age where emotions make your abilities misfire."

Even trusted Kang Sagwa has abandoned me. And you, Kwon Haeseong?

"...I, I think so too...."

So what am I, then—emotionally incontinent?

I stared at the status window still hanging in the empty air. Hearing Kang Sagwa's verdict, I somehow felt like a small child with poor emotional regulation.

"Is something wrong with your ability, by any chance?"

No, nothing's wrong, it's just that every now and then some thing floating in midair asks me whether I'd like to delete someone's human rights.

Since there was no honest way to say that, I shut my mouth and silently chewed on my coffee.

Then, whatever she'd read into my expression, an unexpected answer came back.

"In that case, why don't you pay a little visit to the headquarters research lab tomorrow and ask them about it?"

"...?"

There's a way to do that? Look, I appreciate it, but...

Can you just waltz into a place like that?

"You... didn't know?"

"Know what?"

I watched the color drain from her face in real time.

Why are you making that uneasy face. Why.

"Tomorrow, we have a field trip to our headquarters building."

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow?"

I gaped at her, then whipped my head around to Kwon Haeseong.

Hey. You knew too? Am I the only one who didn't hear?

"...Yes. Tomorrow."

Even Kwon Haeseong, the last one I trusted, has abandoned me.