The Shadow Ruler of the Academy (1)
“That’s enough. Now you can keep up with the other kids on your own.”
Teacher Baekhak, who had confirmed his disciple’s rapid progress several times over, couldn’t hide his satisfaction and let out a sigh of admiration. Jin Yeo-rip flashed a proud smile.
The rest of his studies were finally over. Tears welled up in his eyes. How hard had he worked, even cutting back on sleep? He’d had to push even harder than usual lately because his training in the Baji had changed.
Once he’d mastered the forms, he’d started sparring in earnest with Im Pilsaeng. Im Pilsaeng praised him effusively every time, sticking out his tongue in awe. Sometimes it felt like teasing. Not once had the stick in his hand even grazed Jin Yeo-rip’s body.
The changes weren’t limited to his Baji training, though. Life at the academy had shifted too. Forget just studies—he now knew who everyone was, what families they came from. No, it went deeper than that. He could vaguely sense their everyday worries, their ideal types, even the personalities they hid away.
He’d spent over a month listening intently to Jang Il, who knew more rumors than birds or rats.
“That jerk’s at it again?”
It was right after morning classes ended. As they ate together in the dining hall, Kang Woong’s chubby cheeks twitched, his eyes narrowing unhappily at one figure among the elders’ sons. Han Iggeom, son of the Han family in the paper trade.
“Chun-gi, wanna hit Inwol Pavilion tonight?”
“Inwol Pavilion?”
“Yeah, my dad gave me a ton of money to treat you guys to a meal.”
“Oh?”
“I already booked a nice room ahead of time.”
Han Iggeom hunched over subserviently, chatting up Gong Cheon-gi.
“That’s thoughtful. Tell Han family head I’m grateful.”
Han Iggeom beamed at Gong Cheon-gi’s words.
“Sure! I’ll head over after academy and get everything ready, so come whenever.”
Han Iggeom bounced with excitement at the approval, but Yuk Wo-seon beside Gong Cheon-gi frowned.
“You’re not seriously going too, are you?”
“Huh?”
“Iggeom.”
“……”
“You think you’re on our level now?”
“Huh?”
“We’ll go since it’s offered, but you sitting with us? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
Han Iggeom scratched his head with an awkward laugh at Yuk Wo-seon’s words.
“Of course, I’m just handling prep. I was only asking. For real.”
“Right? My bad, I misunderstood.”
“Nah, I must’ve worded it poorly. Heh heh, sorry. Have fun, you guys.”
“Yeah, just make sure it’s set up right. You know what I like?”
“Of course! See you later—let’s have a blast.”
Han Iggeom shuffled back to his seat, grinning sheepishly.
“Heh heh, look at that loser.”
“Seriously. Hang out with him a few times, and he thinks he’s one of us?”
“Inwol Pavilion’s pretty pricey, though, right?”
“Yeah, even adults don’t go often.”
“Perfect. Heard their booze is top-notch. Han family head’s treating us right.”
Gong Cheon-gi said nothing, but the other elders’ sons chimed in, chuckling. Mockery of the Han family and Han Iggeom laced most of their words.
“Cut it out.”
That was when Gong Cheon-gi stood, said a word to those around him, and approached Han Iggeom.
“Iggeom.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Don’t take it to heart. The kids were just talking without thinking.”
“I-it’s fine.”
“Let’s do our thing another time. The others hate it that much.”
“No, no. I get it. I’m good, Chun-gi.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Gong Cheon-gi smiled, patted Han Iggeom’s shoulder, and left the dining hall.
“Ch-Chun-gi! Wait up!”
The elders’ sons, meals unfinished, shot Han Iggeom glares and hurried after Gong Cheon-gi.
“Guys!”
Han Iggeom followed too. From a distance.
Jin Yeo-rip watched, deep in thought.
The academy kids fell into three rough groups. The elders’ sons clustered around Grand Elder Gong Yasin’s son, Chun-gi. The branch family kids, who’d lived separately until Jin Yeo-rip showed up and banded them together. And the neutrals.
Han Iggeom was neutral. Or leaning toward the elders’ side. No choice there. That was Cheongeumbang’s structure.
Even branch families running their own businesses with retainers couldn’t escape Cheongeumbang’s shadow. Like a rental business? Or franchise. They ran ops but followed HQ controls when needed, paying taxes on profits.
Money aside, control came from the elders’ faction. Decisions from the family head, but they handled operations and coordination. Jang Il, the noodle shop owner, had spilled the Han family’s woes.
That’s why Han Iggeom put up with the humiliation from the elders’ sons. They were playing the long game. Not the current head—the next generation.
Who’d likely lead Cheongeumbang? Not the half-brothers. It’d come down to Jin Yeo-rip or his stepmother.
Even if her sons took over, they’d stay under her thumb. And her paternal Saihai Money House clan. A regency setup.
So they’d chosen her side. Han Iggeom’s actions reflected his father Han Changjin’s will.
If she won, who’d back the elders next? The elders’ sons. Each house was already prepping them thoroughly.
Just like Jin Yeo-rip’s final studies, they were learning faction duties at home. Lucky to have a rat(?) like Jang Il feeding him intel.
“Young master, isn’t it pathetic? Who’d wanna wag their tail getting treated like that? Good thing Chun-gi’s there, at least.”
Jin Yeo-rip burst out laughing at the question.
“Pfft.”
“Why’re you laughing, young master?”
“Nah, just funny.”
“Right? Hilarious. That Iggeom punk’s carrying the kids’ books home unasked now. No pride at all. Branch kids should stick to you, young master.”
The branch kids around them nodded at Kang Woong’s words.
You kids have no clue.
Jin Yeo-rip laughed not at Han Iggeom, but Gong Cheon-gi. Grand Elder Gong Yasin’s son, who’d lived like a tongue in Stepmother Yang Sojin’s mouth. Born with sharp wits, he’d earned recognition early, handling academy affairs solo before Jin Yeo-rip arrived.
Scholarship, martial arts—no weaknesses. Trusted by elders’ sons, envied by branches, he ruled peers subtly like a kingpin.
But was he really that nice? Jang Il said his maids complained plenty. He’d slap attendants who displeased him—right in front of witnesses, beating them bloody while grinning.
At academy, he played the straight-A saint. He even hosted elders’ sons at home, lording over them like he was already grand elder.
So, model student outside, bully backstage. Oh, and Jang Il hesitantly mentioned Gong Cheon-gi ordering his crew to ignore the young master thoroughly. Said a punk like him couldn’t do shit despite the title.
Tsk tsk. Kid’s got balls. Brains don’t mean much without character. Obvious where he’d end up.
That “punk like him” phrase stuck, though.
“Hmm. Guess I’ll have to show this punk what I can do. To our model student boy.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Just mumbling.”
“……”
“Oh yeah! Meat arrived yesterday?”
“Oh! You tried it?”
“Yeah, stuffed myself thanks to you. Delicious.”
“Haha! Kang butchery’s the spot for meat!”
Kang Woong blinked curiously but brightened at the topic shift. So simple.
“Good morning, everyone……”
The next day, Gong Cheon-gi’s cheerful greeting cut off as he arrived at the academy. The heavy atmosphere inside froze everyone. Elders’ sons and branch kids alike stood awkwardly, whispering, not daring to sit.
“You’re here?”
“……”
“What’re you waiting for? Close the door, it’s cold.”
It was Jin Yeo-rip. In the back row—the seat Gong Cheon-gi always took—reading a book, he frowned.
“Young master.”
“Yeah?”
“That’s my seat.”
“Your seat?”
Jin Yeo-rip smirked at Gong Cheon-gi’s words. He feigned calm, but his eyes betrayed him—kid stuff. Your maids said you hate others touching your things. Sliced off a favorite maid’s wrist and booted her for breaking something, right? Same with seats.
That prime back-row spot, overlooking everyone. Back in his past life, delinquents hogged those, lording over class. He’d claimed it, and kids yielded like it was natural.
But Jin Yeo-rip played dumb, tilting his head innocently.
“Weird. Never heard of assigned seats here.”
“Not officially, but it’s been mine for ages.”
Jin Yeo-rip snorted.
“Bullshit.”
“Pardon?”
“Quit yapping and find an empty spot—you’re late.”
Yuk Wo-seon snapped before Gong Cheon-gi could.
“Young master! That’s too much!”
“……”
“No formal seats, sure, but we’ve got our own customs here. How can’t you grasp something so simple and muddy the waters?”
Jin Yeo-rip narrowed one eye at Yuk Wo-seon. Funny guy. Customs? Muddy waters? Clueless.
“Yuk Wo-seon.”
“Yes?”
“You lecture on customs but talk like that?”
“What?”
“Am I your buddy?”
“……Pardon?”
“Young master?”
Jin Yeo-rip stood. His sleeves fluttered with a bright smile—and Yuk Wo-seon’s head whipped around.
Slap!
The academy went deathly silent.
“Y-Young master, what the—?”
Yuk Wo-seon’s eyes bulged, pain forgotten in shock.
Thud!
But Jin Yeo-rip’s kick answered instead. Yuk Wo-seon crashed into desks, toppling them in chaos.
Jin Yeo-rip fixed Gong Cheon-gi with a fierce glare.
“‘Young master’ again? Chun-gi, what’s your take?”
“……”
“Did I mess up by taking ‘your’ seat against your customs? Or did Yuk Wo-seon, dropping honorifics for Cheongeumbang’s direct heir and young master?”
Gong Cheon-gi’s pupils trembled faintly. “Young master” vs. “Young master”—one syllable, worlds apart. Yuk Wo-seon had equated himself, undermining the family head’s authority.
Jin Yeo-rip smirked coldly.
“Hmph. Should I lop off this rude brat’s head?”