Middle School Delinquent Life?
'No matter how much this is my second time around, I can't remember everything.'
Honestly, how much of those trivial middle school moments can anyone really recall? That's why my current middle school life felt pretty much the same as my first go-around—minus the major events, of course. Which is why it took me a while to remember who Kim Minhyuk was.
He must've been one of the infamous delinquent crews that had been notorious since elementary school.
'But seriously, does being a delinquent even mean anything when kids get bullied just for going to the bathroom?'
That's the kind of thought I'd have as an adult, but back then, it was a big deal. In elementary school, pooping yourself meant becoming a target for ridicule—and in bad cases, it could lead to full-on ostracism, one of those life-altering incidents.
And this guy was a delinquent from that era?
'Nah, they were pretty damn scary.'
Elementary, middle, high school—the peak delinquent chaos was always middle school. The physical gap between kids hitting puberty and those who hadn't was huge. Plus, at that age, instincts still ruled over reason since bodies hadn't fully grown. And this was 2010. Smartphones were just starting to spread, old men lurked by the back gate after school selling smokes to kids, game rooms had scary older guys, PC bangs had no separate smoking rooms so people puffed away openly. Compared to now, it was basically lawless territory.
In that era, delinquents? Of course they were terrifying.
Glances here and there. Sneaky peeks.
I had no choice but to sit in the back row, and suddenly all these eyes were on me. Normally, a new semester for first-year middle schoolers would be rowdy as hell. But because of me, everyone was watching my every move.
'Why am I the class enforcer?'
All I wanted was to be the ridiculously handsome guy in class. I had zero interest in being the scary monster position. No thanks.
So my conclusion? "Hey."
"Uh, uh, uhhh."
Start by greeting my desk mate first.
Thanks to Kim Minhyuk and his gang shifting to the front seats, the kid next to me was the class loner. The type who hadn't formed a group even after the first day. Chubby cheeks full of baby fat, clearly overweight by anyone's standards, short stature, and just a bit slow on the uptake.
'That's me.'
It reminded me of my past life's self. Hunched over from years of being called ugly, eyes that panicked whenever classmates talked to him because people still felt foreign. Every little detail screamed me.
"What's your name?"
"N-Na... Na... G-G-Ga-Gangshik."
"Gangshik?"
"Y-Yeah, uh, Na Gangshik. N-Na, Na Gangshik."
"I'm Kim Donghu. Let's be friends."
Early days of school are always awkward like that. Introducing names, saying let's get along, hang out together, be buddies—stuff straight out of a shonen manga, but you have to say it for real.
Still, that's the flavor of a new semester.
"Uh, uh, y-yeah, sure."
I could feel it. Everyone was zeroed in on my conversation with Gangshik.
'They're sizing me up here.'
Am I the savage type like Kim Minhyuk, or approachable? At 14, everyone's scared shitless, so caution was key.
'Gotta show I'm harmless.'
What's the best icebreaker for guys? Games, obviously. Nothing beats games for conversation.
"What games do you play?"
"I-I-I play, um, An-An-Animal..."
"Animal Tekken?"
"F-Farm..."
"...That mini-game on Junior Naver?"
"Yeah."
Oh shit. I never played that one.
I panicked and threw out anything. "You do any sports? Like any you enjoy?"
"S-Sports? Sports, uh..."
"I've been doing mixed martial arts for like seven years now."
"Huh?"
That "huh?" didn't come from Gangshik. It was from Minhyuk, who'd been peeking at me.
"What? Something wrong?"
I responded to his surprise as softly as possible, but the kids took it differently and ducked their heads fast.
What's with you guys?
"...Man, our class is way too quiet for the new semester. All quiet types? Haha."
The homeroom teacher, Jang Boseok, showed up for roll call. No one answered his words. Just the silence of scared sheep.
+++++
Why were school delinquents so scary? They hunted in packs like wild dogs. That whole "backing" thing everyone talks about.
Like in shonen manga—if you take down one, he's just the weakest of the Four Heavenly Kings, and the next level shows up. Step-by-step escalation. Beat one, another comes solo or the whole group swarms for chaos.
That's why most people don't fear the ones in front of them. They don't think ahead to the backlash, so they just take a few hits and move on. Delinquents knew that too, which is why their underlings—the so-called "second-tiers"—could strut around.
Even as grunts, being under a top delinquent gave you clout. As the idiom goes, the fox borrows the tiger's might.
Why am I rambling? Because of my current situation.
'Yeah, no way a crybaby like Kim Minhyuk is a top delinquent.'
A guy who wails and throws tantrums after one loss? No shot.
After school. Walking home with Gangshik since we lived the same direction—total classic.
"Hey, you. Come with us."
Boom. Kim Minhyuk and his crew, plus the hulks behind them. Straight out of Pokémon—a random street battle you can't dodge.
"Gangshik, you go ahead."
"H-Huh? Uh, uh... uh..."
Gangshik wouldn't budge even after I told him to go. I thought it was loyalty—touching. But nope.
His legs were shaking so bad he couldn't move. Yeah, at this age, a pack of kids is terrifying. Got it.
"Let's go somewhere quiet. Got a lot to do, yeah?"
As if—we were just heading to the nearby playground anyway.
'God, I just wanna bolt.'
With seven years of training, no kid could keep up. I'd lose them in seconds.
'But then Gangshik's left behind.'
Why does that name feel so familiar, though? Like I've heard it before.
'Focus on now.'
Had to follow. If I ditched, who knows what they'd do to Gangshik.
"Fine."
I nodded with a small sigh. How'd it come to this? First day of school, picking a fight. Second day, group lynching—what pros call "getting jumped." Sad times.
+++++
As expected, Kim Minhyuk was a second-tier. Technically between second and first—head of the seconds, tail of the firsts. A snake with a dragon's tail.
But he'd bawled his eyes out in front of half the class, even dragged his parents in and got properly scolded by the teachers.
No way he'd let that slide. He rallied his network, gathered kids. Too scared to call second-years, so he summoned the first-year top-dog crew.
Cost him half his allowance forever, and a "don't call us for this shit again." But that was a bargain to move them.
'You're dead.'
Handsome? Face'll be smashed soon anyway. Who cares.
'Scared shitless, can't even speak?'
The fat loser next to him was already trembling. Seven years of martial arts? Numbers beat skill.
'You're done!'
Minhyuk figured Donghu would soon be crawling, begging for mercy. Then he'd piss on his face while laughing. Future had him grinning already.
'We're here.'
The playground deep in the park. Sinbit Middle's delinquent hideout. Today, Kim Donghu gets executed.
He turned back with that thought—
"Urk!"
Someone puked.
"Huh?"
The culprit? Kim Minhyuk's boss's boss. The true shadow boss behind the first-year final boss. The pitch-black wolf, Sinbit Middle's number one: Park Seokgu.
+++++
My gym coach, Baek Sangha of Baek Sang MMA Gym, always said:
-In street fights, not matches, always first strike. There's light in the first punch.
-Hit the solar plexus right, and any kid your age drops. Especially there.
-Makes 'em puke, right? But they collapse too. Puke where they fall, fight's over. Instant puke-and-drop.
-And it doesn't show. Worst case, a bruise? No medical bill. Perfect cost-performance attack.
Who could stop Baek Sangha's holy mission to normalize middle school delinquents?
Thwack!
"Ureeeek!"
One punch, one puke. Gap between trained fighter and untrained kid? Sky and earth.
Add size difference? No contest.
Numbers? Meaningless. Not a historical war, opponents weren't elite soldiers. Just middle schoolers hyped on pack confidence.
But their leader drops first?
'It's over.'
Ureeeek.
Butterfly knife clattered as the first guy rolled. Scary stuff—carrying blades.
"Ureeeek!"
"D-Don't, stay back—urreeeek!"
One by one. Methodical cleanup, and suddenly Minhyuk was in front of me.
Poor Minhyuk. 14 and still pissing himself.
"Minhyuk, you need diapers."
Might as well add a chinstrap too.
"Ureeeek!"
"I haven't even hit you yet, why fake-puke?"
Splat!
Clean straight punch. Didn't feel like "proper discipline." Just natural in this romantic era.
"Gangshik, let's go."
"Uh, uh, uh, uh."
Gangshik was broken too. First time seeing this, probably.
'Hmm.'
At least he didn't piss himself. Silver lining.
'Whatever, scoop him up and go.'
That's when—
"Hic!"
A girl's hiccup.
"Oh."
Right. Delinquent packs have girls too. Don't know makeup yet, so they cake it on thick. Normal.
'Huh?'
Familiar face. Gangshik's was vague, but this one? Crystal clear.
'Well, damn. Her, here?'
Beauty shining through heavy, mismatched makeup. Nearly became a top model, but past as a delinquent leaked and she crashed.
And.
'How ugly was I that she cried just from eye contact?'
One factor showing my past looks' tragedy.
"Shin Yerim."
She stared back, shocked—and crying.
"..."
But if you piss yourself when even Gangshik held it, what're we supposed to do?