The Ground — 7
I walked up to Bang Seonghyun, raising a finger as I sized up the delinquents one by one.
"Any of you good at fighting? Who's the best? You? Or you?"
One sentence. That was all it took before the boys started clamoring among themselves.
"Who even are you to butt in?"
"What, is an adult seriously gonna beat up kids?"
"You've got an out-of-town face, so you're probably not from around here. Just keep walking, mister. Don't go crashing kids' hangout spots."
I grabbed the wrist of the guy gripping Bang Seonghyun's shoulder.
"This counts as hanging out? Wrapping your arm around someone's neck and dragging him off by force?"
"Ugh! That hurts!"
The delinquent's face twisted as my grip crushed his wrist.
"So answer me. Who's the best fighter here?"
"That'd be me."
A tall, lanky kid threw up a hand and stepped forward.
The name tag stitched to his school uniform read Son Seok-ha.
His face was brimming with resentment, as if he were dying to ram his head into somebody and end his own life right then and there.
"You the leader of these kids?"
"So what if I am?"
"Did you order them to bully the transfer student? Answer me straight. Because this is a crime."
"Well, I've got a question of my own. If you keep this up, that punk won't be able to come to school at all. Because I'm gonna make his life a living hell. What, has he never been to school before? Shit!"
Bang!
Son Seok-ha kicked a paint can abandoned in the alley and clenched his fist threateningly.
"You planning to throw a punch?"
"You're the one who asked for the best fighter, old man. Weren't you saying you wanted to take someone on?"
Son Seok-ha smacked his own palm against his head, ratcheting the hostility up another notch.
But the whole display reminded me of a frilled lizard puffing itself up against an enemy. The kind that darkens the ruff around its neck and balloons up to say, 'I'm this scary, you know.'
'This kid isn't a predator.'
Back in my own high school days, I'd seen plenty of delinquents—the loumouthed types who strutted around shaking down kids for lunch money. But this one carried a different frequency.
'He looks like a kid who's taken a lot of hits. From his father, maybe?'
Raised in the path of violence, now imitating it while drowning in self-loathing—I could see that doubled nature in him.
Deciding to test whether my hunch was right, I prodded.
"I was actually going to use something other than physical force. I was thinking of paying your parents a little visit for a chat."
"Aaargh! Why does everything come back to my parents?! Talk to ME! There's a person standing right here!"
My hunch had been right on the money.
The mention of parents had hit his trigger. Stomping on the paint can wasn't enough—he snatched up a length of wood lying nearby and brought it down on his own skull.
Crack!
The stick snapped, and blood trickled down Son Seok-ha's forehead.
"What the hell is wrong with this kid? Is he running a self-harm extortion racket?"
Lee Ho-young, who'd been standing behind me, suddenly pushed forward.
"Sunbae-nim, look at what this punk is doing. I've had it. Let's convene a school violence committee, drag every one of their parents in, and settle this face to face. You brats have any idea who I am?"
Thumping his own chest, Lee Ho-young squared his shoulders and declared:
"I'm on a first-name basis with the current and former Ministers of Education. And you have the nerve to pull self-harm stunts?"
"Mr. Lee, hold on a second."
"No, Sunbae-nim. The way that punk cracks his own head with a stick—that's not the work of a first-timer. He's staging a whole show to shake us down for settlement money."
"The way I see it, that's not really—"
I tried to rein him in, but it was as if I'd poked a raw nerve of his own; Lee Ho-young was hopping mad.
"If the Minister of Education sends down the superintendent and a school violence committee gets convened, none of you brats are graduating. Want me to make that happen?"
"Ooh, so scary. What is the Ministry of Education, the conglomerate next to our taekwondo gym?"
When Son Seok-ha snickered, the other delinquents piled on with jeers of their own.
"Dude talks forever. Didn't catch a word of that."
"Guess he went to college. First time seeing one of those long-pedigree types in person."
The delinquents, fine. But even Bang Seonghyun looked dumbfounded.
"Uh, sir? The threats are a little..."
"Not, not to your taste?"
"Nope!"
"Works in Gangnam, apparently not out here, huh."
Lee Ho-young raked a hand roughly through his hair, then suddenly whirled to face me.
"Oh yeah? Then how about this?"
He grabbed my shoulder!
"You kids have no idea who this gentleman is? He's the goodwill ambassador for Pyeongcheong County. Best buddies with the county governor AND the police chief—this is who he is!"
Buddies, my foot.
My face went hot, and I was opening my mouth to deny it when one of the delinquents suddenly recognized me and clapped his hands.
"Oh right! I kept thinking he looked familiar!"
"Really? He actually knows the governor?"
"Yeah! He was on TV too. Said he was the guy who found those old remains—bones or whatever."
"Mister, you're seriously close with the governor? Wait, that guy's dad is a civil serv—mph!"
Turned out one of them was a civil servant's son, and the others fell over themselves shoving a hand over his mouth.
As they flailed, the murderous air the boys had been radiating visibly deflated.
'Wow. It actually worked!'
Then again, in a cramped little town like this, their parents made their living farming, running restaurants, or keeping cafes and pensions afloat. They'd clearly grasped that if I blew things up, their families would get dragged into exactly the kind of annoying, costly mess they couldn't afford.
'They're at an age where they understand power and money are scarier than fists, after all.'
Even the leader, Son Seok-ha, lost a bit of steam, shooting wary glances my way.
"So what if he's some ambassador? And the transfer student's such a pathetic pushover that we're just giving him a lesson in manners. What's it to you?"
I stared at Son Seok-ha's forehead. The skin had split, but the blood was slowly drying—the wound didn't look serious.
"Son Seok-ha."
Flinch.
At my calm call of his name, he flinched visibly.
"If you treat your own body like garbage, why would anyone respect you?"
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean."
His eyes were trembling.
"And for someone lecturing others on manners, you don't look like you've ever learned any yourself. Am I wrong? Can't even argue otherwise, can you."
"Ugh, you sanctimonious old-timer! Seriously! Everyone's got a gripe today. Aaargh. So annoying."
Son Seok-ha spat on the ground, turned, and stalked out of the alley.
"Let's go."
"Mister, I'm not even one of them. I barely know these guys."
"Damn it, hurry up."
The civil servant's son protested he wasn't really a delinquent as the others hauled him away.
I watched Son Seok-ha's retreating back for a moment, then turned to Bang Seonghyun.
"You okay?"
"Huh? Oh. Yes."
"Did we meddle for nothing?"
"No. I knew you were watching me from the window, sir. If you'd just walked past, I'd have been disappointed in you. Thought you were a coward too."
Too?
Did that mean other people had watched him get bullied and done nothing as well?
Or his own parents?
A cold weight dropped into my chest, and I spoke carefully.
"Thank you. If you'd chewed us out for sticking our noses into someone else's business, Mr. Lee and I would have felt pretty terrible."
Frankly, I'd have been embarrassed and ashamed. Meddling clumsily in kids' fights can make the victim's life even harder—that's exactly what makes school bullying such a delicate problem.
But Bang Seonghyun just flashed me a bright, easy grin.
"I should be thanking you. Everyone knows the golden rule is to stay out of high school fights. You were both incredible. And honestly? It was cool."
With that, Bang Seonghyun praised us both and beamed.
'What a relief.'
Just as I was letting out a breath of relief—
"By the way, you can really fight, can't you, sir? I saw you subdue that guy one-handed earlier."
Bang Seonghyun glanced at my hand and asked.
"I'm strong, I'll give you that. Fighting, though? Hard to say. I'm decent at headbutts."
"Hahaha. Headbutts!"
Bang Seonghyun chuckled.
"Still, I wonder if we should really just let this slide? Those kids might come after you again at school tomorrow."
"They absolutely will! This is when you have to hit back hard. Once they get a taste of fire, they never try it again."
Lee Ho-young doubled down on the hardline stance.
"You know a school violence record these days blocks college and jobs alike. Your life's over. You've got to make them tear their hair out over it. That's the only way they learn to never torment anyone again."
"I... don't think that's right."
Bang Seonghyun waved his hands frantically, as if begging him to calm down.
"That kid fights well."
"Huh. I did think something about him felt... different."
Kind eyes, but fists that looked like they could draw blood. Unlike me, Lee Ho-young seemed to have seen none of it coming.
"Seriously? Wait, then why did you hold back?"
Lee Ho-young stared at Bang Seonghyun like the boy was speaking a foreign language.
"Why'd you just let them drag you around? Did you get in trouble for violence before?"
"Yes. But I wasn't formally disciplined. There was a misunderstanding and I traded punches with a friend. His lip split and bled a lot, but it wasn't anything serious."
"So that's why you stopped using your fists."
"Yes."
Bang Seonghyun gave a small, wry smile.
"If I'd really put my mind to it, I could have laid all of them flat back there. To tell the truth, I was a taekwondo hopeful."
"A black belt?"
"Yes."
"Whoa!"
Lee Ho-young gave him a thumbs-up, marveling at the boy's restraint.
"And you still held back?"
"Yes. I hate seeing my mom cry."
Bang Seonghyun's head dipped.
"Impressive kid."
I patted his shoulder and went on.
"But you'll have to endure it again tomorrow, won't you. No matter how they torment you."
"I suppose."
"Won't every single day wear you down like that?"
"I can't just fight them, though."
"Hmm. What do we do about that?"
I mulled it over for a moment, then snapped my fingers.
"The taekwondo club!"
"Sorry?"
"I'm pretty sure one of those kids mentioned the school has a taekwondo club. Go to school tomorrow, look into it, and join. Prove what you can do. You said you were a hopeful, didn't you?"
Bang Seonghyun smiled faintly, then shook his head—it had been over six months since he'd quit training.
"In Korea, if you take gold at the national sports festival in taekwondo, they call you the best in the world. But I've been out of training for half a year now. I think that road's closed to me."
I thought about that for a moment, then asked him.
"Do you not want to train anymore?"
"No. I love it. But I can't bet my livelihood on it."
He was only a second-year in high school.
Bang Seonghyun wasn't worried about his future—he was worried about putting food on the table.
"I want to start earning soon and take some of the burden off my parents. They've struggled so much, both of them. I want to graduate fast and bring money home."
"You CAN bring money home doing taekwondo!"
Out of nowhere, Lee Ho-young thrust both fists into the air.
"Your name's Seonghyun, right? Keep training. I'll sponsor you."
"Excuse me?"
"Ah, hold on. I never introduced myself. I'm Lee Ho-young. Close junior associate of Mr. Kim Yunho here. Right, Sunbae-nim?"
"Th-that's right. Very close."
For the first time, I played along with one of Lee Ho-young's setups.
Grinning ear to ear, Lee Ho-young turned back to Bang Seonghyun.
"Keep up taekwondo, get into a university's security services program, and graduate. Then I'll hire you full-time at my company."
"Your company, sir?"
"Yep."
Lee Ho-young gave a firm nod, then drew himself up proudly.
"I'm the CEO of Miho Gallery. We deal in antiques and ancient manuscripts—top five in the country in that field, I'd say. What do you think? Come work with me."
Why was this man going this far for a kid he'd known for all of ten minutes—someone he hadn't even shared a single strand of ramen noodles with?
'Because he was a bullying victim himself?'
Or maybe...
Hearing that Bang Seonghyun had held back his fists despite being a trained martial artist—had that struck something raw in Lee Ho-young?
They say you can never fully know another person's heart, no matter how long you live. Right now, I was living proof of that.
Only moments ago I'd been bewildered by this side of Lee Ho-young that I'd never seen before—but then I broke into a smile and gave Bang Seonghyun's shoulder a friendly pat.
"Congratulations on the scouting offer. But you don't have to answer right away. Take your time and think it over."
Who could have guessed I'd quit my bank job and end up farming in the countryside? Life was full of doors you never saw coming.
"You've still got plenty of time. Write down everything you want to do, then take them on one by one—like clearing stages in a game."