Putting a Bridle on the Colt (1)

"Ack, fuck!"

A searing pain bloomed across my calf like someone had set it on fire. My kneeling body lurched sideways on pure reflex, and the impact that had torn through the hem of my pants was so vicious that tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.

Ugh, what the hell is—

At some point, that voluptuous beauty presumed to be my virtual mother had crossed the room with a frost-glazed expression and planted herself right in front of my nose.

"Where do you get off spewing filthy profanity in front of your own mother!"

Ice dripped from every syllable of her bellow.

"No, you just suddenly started hitting—"

"Tsk! So you still haven't come to your senses!"

The woman raised her switch once more.

Whack! CRACK!

"AAAUGH! It hurts! It hurts, I said!"

There was no mercy whatsoever. Being in a virtual space did nothing to dull the pain. It was a whipping so vivid it felt like my skin was splitting open and beads of blood were about to well up!

She dropped a thick stack of Chinese-character textbooks in front of me with a thud.

"The Sohak and the Myeongsimbogam. Until you can recite every single passage without a single mistake, the blood will not dry on your calves."

The woman called Mother's frosty voice rang through the room like a bell. Cradling my swollen, scarlet calf, I stared blankly down at the thick tomes she'd flung at my feet.

No, okay, before she hits me again, I need to say something, argue back—

The instant I parted my lips, the wooden switch in her hand whistled through the air again.

CRACK!

"Aagh!"

"How dare you glare and talk back while your mother is disciplining you! Do you still not understand what you did wrong?!"

It was a merciless beating that permitted not even an excuse. I groveled flat, rubbing my hands together in supplication. If I didn't at least pretend to read something right this second, my legs were going to be reduced to pulp.

With trembling hands, I picked up a book from the floor. Black characters packed densely across yellowed hanji paper. I blinked and stared at the first page.

"……"

I was speechless.

Not even a passage as commonly parroted as Zi yue — review the old and learn the new, and you may become a teacher… nothing of the sort was anywhere to be seen.

Where's the hangul? Hangul! Did Sejong the Great mean nothing to you? Traitors?

Every thought imaginable raced through my head. Black was ink and white was paper, and that was all I could see. Chinese characters, top to bottom—100% pure Classical Chinese, not one syllable of Korean pronunciation provided.

No, seriously, fuck, how am I supposed to read this?

Part of me had hoped for a magical turn of events—that some new system function would activate, letting the meaning of the Chinese characters pour into my head the moment I looked at them. But reality was cruel. No such convenience existed.

Only one blindingly obvious thought flickered through my mind: if I'd wanted to read Classical Chinese, shouldn't I have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cleared the Classical Chinese subject completion before choosing Confucian Education?

"I'm royally screwed."

As I sat frozen, book in hand, like an idiot who'd swallowed honey, a deep shadow fell over my head.

"Oh my…! Still nursing your rebellion and staging a protest, are you!"

The woman's voice climbed to an even fiercer pitch.

"You are well past marriageable age, yet you shirk your studies and throw tantrums like this! Today, I swear I will beat that wicked stubbornness out of you."

Marriageable age? Ah, right—this was Joseon-era, so by this period's standards I really would be old enough to wed. Not that I had the leisure to admire the historical accuracy.

Whoosh—! CRACK!

"AAAAAGH! I was wrong! I was wro—AGH!"

The merciless beating rained down. Virtual space or not, the pain of flesh splitting open carved into my brain like a shovel.

Beneath the wide jade skirt of her chima, over the tight bow of her jeogori, that voluptuous chest heaved violently—but survival instinct, screaming to escape this insane hell, took priority over any appreciation of the view.

"Stop! It hurts, ungh—!"

Whack! Whack! CRACK!

In the end I was rolling on the floor, screaming, and as my mind washed white, I lost consciousness.

"Hahk…! Haaahk!"

When my eyes snapped open, I was gasping on a bench, drenched head to toe in cold sweat.

"Haa… haa…"

My hand flew to my calf on reflex. The terrible sensation of the switch tearing into my skin still lingered there like a phantom pain, but mercifully, when I rolled up my pant leg, there wasn't a single red mark. Perfectly unscathed.

Ding—!

A system window popped up indifferently before my eyes.

"…Absolutely shameless."

If you were going to say that, say it sooner. Tell me before I got beaten half to death—maybe then I'd have listened!

But fine. Fine. No attempt limit—that part was at least a good thing.

Still, let's think about this rationally. To tame one uncontrollable 19-year-old retaker, I'd first have to climb the massive language barrier of Classical Chinese, and then clear Confucian Education? That was burning down the whole village to catch one bedbug. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Spending that time grinding English and cosplaying as a celebrity tutor would be far more efficient.

Well, as already established, that'd be hard to pull off on a kid who can barely sit in a chair anyway.

So that settles it—this is the path to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keep grinding. Though… if there were something practical like a sex-education subject, that'd be a different story.

And then there was one more thing. One fundamental problem remained: to correct that yellow-haired colt's behavior, she first had to be registered in my Attendance Roster.

The reason I'd been able to peek into Yujin-sunbae's diary yesterday—and manipulate her subconscious—was entirely because I'd registered her as my first student.

Sunbae was the launch bonus, sure. But how was I supposed to register Choi Ahyoung? I'd signed a formal tutor-student contract—did that mean automatic enrollment?

The moment I posed the question in my head, the system window smoothly transitioned, displaying a new guide.

"Preliminary Roster? The hell is a Preliminary Roster now?"

Something else strange had popped out of nowhere. Squinting, I kept reading.

So it was basically a pre-admission list.

…In other words, the more people on the Preliminary Roster, the better the school becomes.

And a better school means more bonuses. The explanation was convoluted, but the system itself was surprisingly intuitive.

What stood out most was the reward for hitting five.

[Max student capacity +1]

Right now, my Attendance Roster had a maximum capacity of exactly one—and Kang Yujin-sunbae already occupied that slot. Which meant that to register Choi Ahyoung as a student, peek at her diary, and administer behavioral corrections, I'd have to expand the roster's capacity itself.

There's the formal master-student route too, but… no matter how I look at it, manufacturing five people who depend on me is the easier play.

Thinking about her personality, definitely. Not that the second option looked easy either—but hey, I had a total sweetheart of a sunbae on my side.

If I worked through her to sweet-talk the freshmen one by one, my odds of hitting that five-student mark were much better.

Alright, let's do this.

What kind of man would I be if I held this power and still couldn't discipline one brat properly!

The next day.

Amid the characteristic low rumble of the student cafeteria, I sat with my eyes glued to the table, lips moving wordlessly.

Mengzi jian Liang Hui wang; wang yue: 'Sou bu yuan wanli er lai'…

Translated texts of the Myeongsimbogam and the Sohak open on my smartphone screen. I was mechanically cramming the Korean readings of Classical Chinese passages into my skull.

It was my own work-around: try to pass Confucian Education without completing the Classical Chinese subject first.

Naturally, the difficulty was brutal.

Ha, goddamn it.

I'd never crammed this brute-force style even for the CSAT! Was this what some pampered noble maiden who'd never once been spanked by her father felt like?

But with the phantom sting of that damned Joseon NPC mother's switch still haunting my calves, I couldn't stop.

"Whatcha doing? Where's your food?"

Then, along with a familiar, brisk voice, a faint scent of shampoo and the pleasant warmth of a woman's body settled in behind me.

A weighty, soft presence draped over my shoulder. Yujin-sunbae had her chin propped on my shoulder from behind, peering down at my phone screen. Sure enough, her guardedness around me had noticeably melted compared to before.

"Oh, sunbae."

"Did you pawn your food tray off somewhere? What are you staring at like that? Porn or some—"

Her teasing voice cut off abruptly. Sliding into the seat beside me, her big, cool eyes narrowed.

"What is all this? Chinese characters?"

"Just some stuff I need to memorize."

"Wait, don't tell me… You've barely been in the English Lit department, and now you're transferring again? To Chinese Literature? History?"

What kind of crazy talk is that.

"There's some personal studying I need to do, that's all."

"You promise? If you run off to some weird place behind my back again, you're actually dead."

"Saying 'again' makes it sound like I've transferred multiple times."

"You did! Bolted to the army, bolted to a new major—that's twice!"

You didn't even know I was going before I enlisted, but sure, talk a big game.

"I'm not running anywhere. Just eat your food."

When I answered dismissively and turned back to my phone, sunbae finally seemed reassured. She pouted, then released my body from her grip.

"Oh, right! Seonghyun-ah. I promised I'd treat the 1st-years to cafeteria food today, remember? They'll be here soon."

"Yep."

I'd asked her for a favor before coming to school today. Since my transfer had left me with almost no acquaintances, I wanted her to introduce me to some 1st-years.

True to her meddlesome nature, this kind of request hit her tastes dead-center—and that was why the rowdy group was arriving now.

"Yujin-sunbae! We're here!"

"Oh, hey. Sit, sit."

Sunbae waved them over. Five in total—two boys and three girls. Fresh-faced 1st-years who radiated new-student energy.

They dragged empty chairs around sunbae and sat, their gazes naturally drifting my way.

"Sunbae, who's this…?"

"Oh, say hi. I told you about him, right? This is Lee Seonghyun, 2nd-year. Transferred into our department this semester. He's in a few of the same core major classes as you, so get to know him."

At her introduction, the kids all bowed their heads in unison, blinking with dazed expressions.

"Hello!"

"Hey. Nice to meet you."

I closed my phone and offered a light greeting. A brief round of hellos later, we'd all piled our trays with cafeteria food, but an awkward hush soon settled over the table.

What the hell? I'd assumed sunbae would have sung my praises—so what was with this atmosphere?

Pushing my pork stir-fry rice around with my spoon, I rolled my eyes and studied the 1st-years across the table. None of them could hold my gaze, staring instead at random patches of air, or addressing only Yujin-sunbae.

Well, it was a first meeting—understandable, I supposed…

But surely sunbae had told them nice things about me. Was it the age gap? Fair enough, I was a returning student fresh out of the military. I could be as much as three years older than the girls who'd enrolled straight out of high school. To a twenty-year-old, a twenty-three-year-old returning student really was a distant, intimidating figure.

"Um… sunbaenim, you did your military service, right?"

Right on cue, one of the boys across the table—a crop-haired kid—gingerly raised the topic.

"Yeah. Discharged last year."

"Oh… th-thank you for your service."

The conversation died again. This time, the girl with the bob cut seated beside him cautiously spoke up.

"We heard from Yujin-sunbae that you just transferred into English Lit. You were in the College of Education before, right?"

"Ah, yeah, well. Circumstances. I was in English Education there, actually—that's why I picked English Lit."

"Oh, oh, I see."

The moment I gave that answer, the eyes of all three girls shot invisible signals across the table at each other. And in that instant, I began to grasp the cause of this suffocating atmosphere.

Don't tell me—sunbae, you just told them the truth? That I'm a returning transfer student and asked them out for a meal.

The thought had barely landed before cold sweat broke out. If she'd phrased it like that, there was no mystery about how these freshmen saw me.

A pitiful guy who knew nobody and ate alone.

My fault for trusting this oblivious woman!

I quietly lowered my right hand under the table—and reached for the thigh of Yujin-sunbae, sitting right next to me, sawing away at her pork cutlet.

Poke.

Through her jeans, I felt the firm, voluptuous curve of her thigh. I mercilessly pinched the tender flesh of her inner thigh between my thumb and forefinger—and twisted.

"Hnk—Owch!"

Sunbae nearly dropped her fork, letting out a strangled yelp. She rounded on me with wide eyes, and her hand shot under the table to slap the back of mine.

"Mmph! Are you insane? I al-almost choked…!"

"Sunbae, what did you tell them about me? Can't you see you're killing the mood?"

"Huh? What mood—"

When I jerked my chin toward the 1st-years, sunbae finally seemed to notice something had gone sideways. The freshmen were staring at us with rabbit-wide eyes now that she'd suddenly yelped.

God, this costs-benefits math is not adding up.

My plan to fill the Preliminary Roster's five slots via sunbae was squeaking off its rails from the very start. If I stayed stuck in the sympathetic-poor-returning-student role, those kids would never 'respect' or 'depend' on me, not in this lifetime.

Only now grasping the situation, sunbae chewed her mouthful of pork cutlet thoughtfully, eyes rolling. Desperate gears were visibly turning behind them, hunting for some way to break this awkward air.

Gulp.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and then she suddenly clapped her hands together.

"Oh, right! You guys—anyone looking for a part-time job?"

An utterly random segue. But to fresh 1st-years with obviously thin wallets, those words might as well have been magic. The gazes that had been drifting through empty space seconds ago snapped to sunbae in unison.