The Shadow Ruler of the Academy (3)
“Attention! Bow!”
“Teacher, thank you for your hard work today!”
At Jin Yeo-rip's lead, the children chorused their greeting to Baekhak.
“Heh heh! Perfect manners. It's good to have a class president. To think your attitude toward your teacher changed so much in just one day.”
Baekhak left the academy hall with a satisfied nod.
So, who's the class president? Me!
That day, just as he'd planned, Jin Yeo-rip became the academy's legitimate shadow ruler.
Without any backing—purely on merit!
Of course, there'd been a bit of trickery.
“How could a merchant family need any other test? Let's do math!”
Baekhak had seen the logic(?) in Jin Yeo-rip's words, and even Gong Cheon-gi had nodded along. They probably thought his smarts were limited to archaic calculations.
But the math they knew was ancient, and he'd proven the superiority of modern mathematics, refined over centuries of history.
...Truth be told, it was just basic arithmetic—addition, subtraction, multiplication, division—and the trickiest bit was simple equations. No contest, really.
He knew shortcuts that were practically formulas, so while Gong Cheon-gi was scribbling away, Jin Yeo-rip rattled off answers effortlessly.
The shock on their faces had been priceless.
I'm a guy who took the college entrance exam, damn it! Ever heard of Math Revolution? Know Professor Hong? Back in my day, kids—he was the teacher for me, no, for countless high schoolers!
After Baekhak left and the children prepared to head home, Jin Yeo-rip stood and walked to the teacher's seat.
The chair where the master sat.
Thud.
He plopped down and swept his gaze over the kids.
What was he planning? Now that he had power, time to abuse it.
“Everyone, good work today.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
At their casual replies, Jin Yeo-rip widened his eyes—one more than the other—in a fierce glare.
These kids thought Baekhak's talk of equality meant they could reply like that?
“Kids. Looks like you're misunderstanding something. Class is over.”
“...Yes, Young Master.”
“Good. Let's do well.”
“Yes.”
He already had the edge as the young master of a great house, and now Baekhak had given him the official title of class president. The children couldn't help but shrink back.
“Now, let's see. Hmm.”
Jin Yeo-rip pulled a paper from his robe and pointed at the kids one by one, frowning.
“Yuk Wooseon.”
“Yes?”
“You messed up the arithmetic on the classics.”
“Ah, that was...”
“Extra study.”
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“No, I mean, you're not the teacher, Young Master. How can you decide that?”
“What should I do, then? Ask the teacher? Brat, if I say I'm giving you more study to help, you'll throw a fit. Get it right next time and earn some praise. Imagine how happy your dad would be.”
“That's true, but...”
Ignoring Yuk Wooseon's response, Jin Yeo-rip called the next name.
“Next, Sang Ganyong.”
“Uh, yes? Me too?”
“How old are you, and you still haven't memorized the Book of Songs? As the saying goes, 'no study of classics, no right words.' It means you can't speak properly without studying it. How do you plan to follow your father's will and become an elder if you don't even know that?”
“But the Book of Songs is advanced...”
“You too—extra study. Got it?”
It was forced. Baekhak had only assigned Jin Yeo-rip the Book of Songs because of his high comprehension; it was advanced material. But who could refuse those terrifying eyes, like a tiger protecting its cub?
“Yes.”
“Alright, you two stay. Everyone else, go home.”
The two singled out drooped their heads glumly, while the others shuffled out, stealing glances.
And then there was one.
“Young Master, what the hell are you doing?”
Gong Cheon-gi now showed his emotions openly on his face.
No wonder—his prized seat and status had been snatched away.
“Me? Exercising the class president's exclusive authority.”
“Since when is assigning extra study a class president's authority? When did the teacher give you that power?!”
“He didn't.”
“What?”
“But I'm proactive. I find work for myself.”
“What the—?”
Hey! Glaring now? Need a reminder who I am?
Jin Yeo-rip scowled back, and Gong Cheon-gi's clenched fists trembled.
“If you don't like it, don't complain to me—go ask the teacher if it's okay.”
“You... you...!”
“No business? Then scram. I have extra lessons to teach.”
Dismissing him, Jin Yeo-rip turned away sharply. Gong Cheon-gi glared at Yuk Wooseon and Sang Ganyong.
“You two! Gonna sit there?”
“...”
“Get out already!”
But power trumps law or friendship. Everywhere, always.
So beat it.
“You little...”
Fuming, nostrils flaring, Gong Cheon-gi stomped out with heavy footsteps.
I've never seen a 'wait and see' guy who ends up happy.
Jin Yeo-rip smirked at the fading sounds.
“Kid's got a temper. That's the root of all illness.”
Class president? Whatever. It started just to piss off Gong Cheon-gi.
His antics were so pathetic.
But this was just the beginning.
Gong Cheon-gi, Lady Yi, even Elder Jeon behind her.
If they became thorns in his side, he'd roll them like jewels(?) from here on out.
Academy life had already passed two months.
As the shadow ruler, Jin Yeo-rip wielded his power, steadily dismantling Gong Cheon-gi's circle.
Extra study, cleaning duties... Watching him grind his teeth was pure bliss.
Then one day.
“Yawn, Young Master. Why not rest today?”
“Huh?”
“Looks like rain.”
Early dawn, as So Hye spoke, Jin Yeo-rip—preparing for his usual run—glanced at the sky.
She was right. Dark clouds blanketed it, thunder rumbling like it could pour any second.
In his past life, rain meant worrying about hair loss later. But here? Rain was great.
No pollution—pure and clean.
“Rain's refreshing. What's wrong with that?”
Jin Yeo-rip grinned, but sleepy-eyed So Hye frowned.
“Mud everywhere. And... anyway, rest today.”
“Can't. Morning training's crucial. Mud? Even better for stamina. Besides, they're waiting.”
“Who? The noodle guy up half a shichen early?”
“Fruit stand too.”
“You're so naive. They're just after your money.”
So Hye chuckled knowingly.
“Sure, that's part of it. Oh, and I gotta hit Hwang's forge today.”
“For go?”
“Yeah. Says he won't work till I come. Still salty about last loss.”
“Sigh, rain. Rain.”
So Hye insisted, exasperated, but smiling Jin Yeo-rip waved and left Unjeong Pavilion.
“Prepare spare clothes!”
“Haa, can't stop you. Training hard's good, but...”
She sighed deeply at his receding figure, then glanced elsewhere.
Coachman and yard hand Im Pilsaeng.
He trailed discreetly at a distance.
Inside Cheongeumbang, Young Master said it was fine, but they couldn't relax.
So Im Pilsaeng shadowed him—to the academy, runs, everywhere.
Lately, with Young Master's internal energy growing, his senses sharpened; hiding was getting tough, he'd complained.
“Poor Uncle Pilsaeng. Sigh, that's why I said no running today. Never listens.”
So Hye shook her head and headed in to light the fire.
Hot water for when he returned soaked and cold.
Whoosh!
Crossing from Inner Market to Outer Market, torrential rain poured down.
Flash!
One, two, three, four, five...
Crack boom!
“Huh? Pretty close.”
Lightning struck as Jin Yeo-rip—counting habitually—made a surprised face.
Should he have stayed in?
Worrying about lightning mid-run, he passed the gates, splashing through mud toward the noodle street.
Because of the downpour? Or clouds making dawn darker?
Shops usually open at his run time were late today.
Makes sense—no customers in this weather.
Luckily, noodle owner Jang Il had the door open, waiting.
“Aigoo, Young Master! Running in this rain? You'll catch cold! Come here quick.”
Jang Il ladled steaming broth and beckoned him under the eaves.
Though he'd come out himself.
No other customers in this rain.
Knowing his kindness, Jin Yeo-rip smiled, took the bowl, and slurped the broth.
Heat flowed down his throat, warming his chilled, wet body.
“Whew! Broth's killer today.”
“Rain calls for hot soup, right?”
“Yep.”
The owner grinned wide.
A taste evoking past-life memories.
On pouring days like this, he'd always had shrimp ramen...
Never again, huh?
“Oh, heading to Old Hwang's forge today?”
“Huh? How'd you know?”
“You bragged over dinner—nearly wore my ears out. Something about the wrist guards you asked for?”
“Oh, already done?”
“Yeah.”
Recently, for stamina training, he'd requested ankle and wrist weights.
Sandbags kept slipping.
“Wonder if he's open in this rain. Hope I'm not bothering him.”
“He is.”
“Huh?”
“Positive.”
Jang Il said confidently, though no blacksmith himself.
“But closing shop?”
“Yeah, no customers.”
“Aw, my fault then...”
“Nonsense! You buy noodles daily—I'm grateful. All business, business. Haha.”
Jin Yeo-rip smiled back.
If not for the rain, his bashful face would've shown clearer.
He was a good merchant.
Opening at dawn, waiting in rain for one customer who loved his noodles.
“Gotta go. Extra hearty today—thanks.”
“Sure! Young Mas—huh?”
As Jin Yeo-rip set down the bowl and dashed off, Jang Il startled mid-greeting.
A silver coin by the bowl.
“Y-Young Master! Young Master!”
Calling futilely, Jin Yeo-rip was gone, waving without looking back.
“Heh.”
Five coppers daily. One silver today.
For his efforts in the rain—how could he not know?
Fruit seller Wang had gotten silver and herbs recently too—for his sick mother, probably.
“So kind even to folks like us. Gives what we couldn't earn in days. Gotta comp him noodles awhile. Won't take it back anyway.”
Jang Il chuckled, closing up, when—
“Owner!”
“Eek!”
A man appeared suddenly, through the rain.
Nearly falling backward, Jang Il stared.
“Damn rain. Gimme a hot noodle bowl.”
“Pardon?”
“Noodles.”
“Ah... yes.”
It was Im Pilsaeng.
Tailing Jin Yeo-rip secretly, he'd stopped by.
Watching from afar, the noodles tempted him unbearably.
Had to follow Young Master, but what trouble on the usual route with known stops?
A slow bowl wouldn't miss the go game with Old Hwang.
“Here.”
As the owner served, Im Pilsaeng gulped the broth first.
“Haaah!”
So hot and soothing, belly growling for more.
Now he got why Young Master came daily.
Plenty of leisure, after all.
“One more!”
“Pardon?”
“Double portion.”
Smitten by the taste, Im Pilsaeng spread two fingers wide, grinning.