The Tree That Sticks Out Gets the First Axe
On the train bound for Seoul.
Rattle-rattle—
Song Tan stared out at the scenery flashing past the window and fell into deep thought.
A sudden knife attack. He had stepped in because he had no choice, but it was only natural that a sliver of worry had followed him home.
"No one recognized me, right...?"
He had been wearing a mask pulled low and a hood over it, so his face shouldn’t have been visible.
"Haah... I should’ve taken him down in one shot."
Once the worry faded, irritation at himself surged up in its place.
For the past three years, he had built his body and trained his stamina. Bit by bit, against all odds, he had even accumulated internal energy.
Now he could outperform most athletes, but...
"And yet I’m still only at the level of a Third-class Warrior?"
Physical training was one thing. Internal energy was the real problem.
In this age, gathering it was absurdly difficult.
It was like trying to run a fishery with a single fishing rod in a reservoir that barely held any minnows.
And the worst part was the Tae-jeong Mind Method.
It was stable enough that even if someone suddenly spoke to him, his meridians wouldn’t tangle—but that also meant the rate at which internal energy accumulated was miserably slow.
"I’ll probably need to increase my training time."
Even now, Song Tan performed tunan breathing without fail every dawn.
"I should try building my foundation before bed too."
As he continued to whip himself into shape, a memory suddenly surfaced: the child he had saved bowing his head in gratitude.
That childish voice kept echoing in his mind.
He had never once been thanked like that before.
Back in his days as the Hyeolmunsa, the things he usually heard were more like this:
He hadn’t meant to, but helping someone and receiving sincere gratitude in return felt...
"Not bad."
It was unfamiliar, yet pleasant. An odd sensation, as though something long frozen inside him had begun to melt.
Reflected in the train window, the corners of Song Tan’s mouth slowly lifted.
He himself didn’t even realize it.
***
"Huh? T-Tan!? What are you doing here?"
Song Bong-gu, who had been resting at home, looked up in surprise when his son suddenly opened the front door and walked in.
"You didn’t get kicked out, did you?"
More than joy, worry came first.
He feared his son might have gotten into trouble again.
"No, it’s not that. I just... got special leave for doing well."
"Hah!? Really?"
Delighted, Song Bong-gu grabbed his son’s hands.
"Well done. You did great."
He rose onto his toes and patted Song Tan’s shoulder before hurrying off to get ready to go out.
"If my son won an award, how could I just sit around?"
"Father. It’s not an award, it’s just leave..."
"Tonight, your dad’s treating you to a proper meal with hanwoo. Hahaha."
With a hearty laugh, Song Bong-gu went out the front door first, and Song Tan, shaking his head, followed quietly behind him.
***
Sizzle—
The marbled striploin on the grill was cooking beautifully, the fat spreading like a net across the meat.
Song Bong-gu placed a glistening piece onto his son’s spoon.
"Eat up. It won’t taste as good if it gets cold."
"Aren’t you overdoing it? This place is ridiculously expensive."
Song Tan asked as he chewed, glancing around the elegant hanok-style interior.
Song Bong-gu, watching him with obvious satisfaction, shrugged his small shoulders.
"I work hard so I can spend money like this. And I’ve got more than enough, so don’t worry and just eat."
It wasn’t just talk.
As a chauffeur, his salary had been respectable, and the monthly rental income from the building in Seongsu-dong was like a spring that never ran dry.
Because of that, life had become noticeably more comfortable too.
"I keep telling you to move to a better house. You really don’t listen to me at all."
At his son’s scolding, Song Bong-gu grimaced and waved a hand.
"No need. This place is already lonely enough for one person—what would I do with a bigger house? That’d just be a waste of money."
In truth, Song Tan knew.
Even though a huge sum of money came in every month, his father was simply piling it all up in the bank.
He was doing it for one reason alone: so it could become a solid foundation for his son’s future.
"You’re really stubborn..."
Still, Song Tan couldn’t exactly stop him.
He knew how much joy the whole process brought his father.
As a son, all he felt was the ache of wanting the man to spend some of it on himself too.
"Heh heh heh, listen to you, boy. A real man should take one resolve and push it through with grit."
"Yes, sir. Then I’ll grit my teeth and finish this meat."
After that, the conversation turned to Song Bong-gu’s questions about life at the police academy.
That naturally led to the story of how he had overthrown the instructor in his arrest techniques class and been granted special leave.
"Wahaha! That’s my boy! A police officer ought to move with his body, not just sit around at a desk. That’s how it should be, yes sir!"
Watching his father clap like a child, Song Tan found himself thinking:
Maybe I should pay more attention to the practical subjects...
Improving his grades a little more didn’t sound like a bad idea.
***
Before he knew it, the day had flown by.
The next day, he had a lunch appointment with Mr. Im and his wife.
"You’ve become really solid! You actually look like a cop now."
Im Gwan-hun’s face was full of pride as he looked at Song Tan.
Wasn’t he little more than skin and bones just a few years ago?
Now, he was so bright and healthy-looking that it was hard to imagine those days at all.
"By the way, Seorin keeps asking about you, Tan."
Na Hye-ran, peeling fruit beside them, smiled softly as her eyes narrowed.
"Seorin’s doing well too, right? She must be busy these days."
They had studied together for the GED, so Song Tan had always felt something special toward her.
"Don’t even get me started. I barely see her once a week. She got into that debut team or whatever, threw away her phone, and..."
She sighed. "Honestly, she’s such a handful."
"Still, that’s good. She wanted it so badly."
While they had been homeschooled together, Song Tan had been able to hear quite a lot about the idol world from Im Seo-rin.
Mostly complaints, of course.
Being a trainee at a major entertainment company meant every day was evaluation and competition, so the structure itself made stress unavoidable.
Back then, Im Seo-rin had practically clung to Song Tan every day, crying her eyes out.
And every time, Song Tan had taught her meditation methods to calm the mind.
It was a technique called Cheongmyeong Jeongshim Gong, a method for clearing and settling the heart to stabilize one’s qi.
It was commonly used by Taoists to control simma, demonic heart-devils.
Thanks to that, Im Seo-rin’s anxious mood had improved a great deal.
Though, afterward, there had been the side effect of her becoming rather obsessive toward Song Tan.
In any case, he had been genuinely moved by her passion, so he supported her wholeheartedly.
"She said she really wants you to come when she’s standing on stage for her debut."
"Haha... If I have time, I’ll go. Though I’m probably working."
"Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have an older brother... She really does listen to you more than anyone. And after studying with you, she’s definitely been less irritable."
From Na Hye-ran’s point of view, her daughter had regained her balance after looking so unstable, so it was only natural that Song Tan would seem especially lovable to her.
[Next, news of a terrifying knife rampage incident in Chungju, North Chungcheong Province.]
At that moment, the television in the living room carried the news.
[Around 11 a.m. yesterday, a man at the platform of Chungju Station threatened citizens while wielding a knife. The station was thrown into chaos in an instant, and some citizens fled screaming in a tense scene that continued to unfold.
Fortunately, a citizen at the scene rushed the suspect, knocked the knife out of his hand, and restrained him, preventing an even greater tragedy.]
Then came CCTV footage.
[The screen you’re seeing now is the CCTV footage from that time. You can see the suspect threatening a child with a knife, and a man with both hands raised slowly approaching him and speaking to the suspect. Afterward, this man persuaded the suspect to take him hostage instead. The man then seized the suspect’s opening in a split second, engaged in a physical struggle, and finally subdued him completely. At the time, this man himself was also exposed to the knife and reportedly in grave danger.
Police stated that “the courage of a citizen who stepped forward to protect a child without regard for his own safety prevented a larger disaster.”
However, the man is known to have handed over the subdued suspect after police arrived, then left the scene without revealing his identity.]
As the anchor’s unusually clear voice rang out, everyone’s attention naturally turned toward the television.
"I don’t know what the world’s coming to, with people like that popping up all the time..."
Na Hye-ran frowned, while Im Gwan-hun let out a low murmur of admiration.
He studied the figure of the hero on the CCTV carefully.
"His clothes and all that... He doesn’t look very old, but that’s impressive. It’s never easy to walk up to a guy with a knife without hesitation like that."
"He said he let the child be taken hostage instead of him. Goodness... The child’s mother must be so grateful. As a parent myself, I’m grateful too."
Song Tan was worried they might somehow recognize him, but since most of the footage had been blurred, it seemed they hadn’t noticed anything at all.
Then Song Bong-gu, who had been thinking about something, looked over at his son.
"By the way, Tan, didn’t you take the train from Chungju Station yesterday? In the morning?"
For a split second, Song Tan froze, then answered in a calm voice.
"I took a bus."
"Really? Whew, good. Just imagining you being there makes my heart drop."
"I’m too scared to do something like that."
"Keulkeulkeul, it’s the scared ones who live long. Even if you become a cop, you’ve got to avoid dangerous situations at all costs. Got it?"
"Of course. That’s exactly what I should do."
He felt guilty, but he had no choice but to tell a white lie.
The moment his father learned that the hero in the video was his own son, he might genuinely collapse.
As long as Song Tan kept his mouth shut, no one would ever know.
At least, that was what he believed at the time.
***
By around the eighth week after enrollment, training closer to real field work began.
Until then, arrest techniques had focused on basics like stances, throws, and grips, but now they were being taught field-oriented tactics such as subduing knife-wielding suspects, one-on-one grappling, arresting resisting suspects, and two-man takedown techniques.
From this point on, practical scores started to matter in earnest.
"Oh? Song Tan! You’re not doing this properly, are you? Do you want the whole class to get punished because of you!?"
Under that thunderous threat, Song Tan had no choice but to demonstrate the technique properly.
Clean, efficient, and utterly without wasted motion.
Only then did Instructor Kim Young-tae’s mouth curve in satisfaction.
"That’s right, punk. You can do it well when you want to."
As always, the highest score was marked on Song Tan’s evaluation sheet.
The same thing happened in firearms class.
"Shooter, handgun."
"Shooter! Handgun!"
The trainees aimed their pistols at the targets.
"Commence firing."
Bang! Bang-bang-bang!
After the shooting ended, the instructor looked at someone’s evaluation sheet and shook his head.
"Is he one of those guys who just got discharged? What the hell, there isn’t a single thing to nitpick."
Leaving accuracy aside, his situational judgment and composure were both top-notch.
Every category was nearly perfect.
The instructor, almost in disbelief, wrote this in the lower margin of the evaluation:
- No shaking in trigger control. No excessive reaction at all.
- Even on adjacent targets with civilian silhouettes, he distinguished threats and fired without hesitation.
- In field deployment, the risk of accidental discharge or excessive fire is negligible.
It was practically a full-blown compliment.
So, unlike his slightly lacking written scores, Song Tan showed outstanding skill in practical training.
But as the saying went, the tree that sticks out gets the first axe.
"Because of that bastard, my top spot..."
There were already people casting sour looks at Song Tan as he stood out more and more.
Han Gi-tae, the class leader representing the entire 310th intake, was one of them.
He had worn the mask of friendliness and hidden his pitch-black inner nature well—until now.