The Blind Spots of the Law

Yun-hyeok took Kim Si-jun to a nearby restaurant for a meal, and then to a quiet cafe to interview him.

Kim Si-jun. Seventeen years old, a high school sophomore.

To piece his story together, it went roughly like this:

His mother had passed away when he was young, and his father remarried. Then his father passed away, and his stepmother married yet again.

At some point, Si-jun found himself living with a stepfather who shared no blood relation with him whatsoever.

Along the way, three younger siblings were added to the mix. Each of them shared only one parent with him or with one another.

Eventually, the parents' relationship soured.

Talk of divorce quickly followed. As the two adults screamed at each other, both refusing to take custody of the children, the younger siblings sobbed in terror. Si-jun, paralyzed with fear himself, could only do his best to comfort them.

Shortly after, his stepmother packed her bags and abandoned the family.

His stepfather harbored an extreme hatred for the children calling him "father."

Whenever they did, kicks and blows would fly, accompanied by the roar of, "Who said I'm your damn father?!" Because of this, even the youngest sibling, who was only five, had learned never to call him Dad.

Si-jun referred to his stepfather simply as "that man."

That man worked as a day laborer, and whenever he returned home, he immediately began to drink. If there was no alcohol in the house, he would scream and smash everything in sight.

Thus, Si-jun had to do whatever it took to find a convenience store that would bypass the age restriction and sell him soju to keep the house stocked.

Of course, he had no money. He resorted to borrowing from his classmates. Most of those debts went unpaid. In a way, the rumors that he was "shaking kids down" weren't entirely false.

It was during this time that Si-jun began associating with a runaway family. He did it because some of the older kids in the group actually had jobs. Somehow, that association had mutated in the school rumors into him being connected to organized crime.

"To be fair, the leader of your runaway family does look like a mobster," Yun-hyeok teased. "When I first saw him, I couldn't believe he was a high schooler either."

"Hahaha!"

Si-jun clutched his stomach, bursting into genuine laughter at Yun-hyeok's joke.

"Still, he's a good guy."

"I know. He seemed decent."

"He even let me bring my siblings over to that cramped place whenever things got bad."

On the nights that man came home completely wasted, Si-jun would evacuate his siblings.

Those nights were incredibly dangerous. Once, Si-jun had been struck in the head with a liquor bottle and knocked unconscious. When he finally came to, the living room floor was slick with his own blood, and his siblings had cried themselves to sleep beside him.

After that incident, the moment that man showed signs of heavy intoxication, Si-jun would gather the kids and flee to the runaway family's hideout. It was a tiny, mold-infested six-pyeong studio apartment. The gas and electricity were constantly cut off, but at least it was a place where the children could shelter from the wind and rain and sleep in peace.

There, huddled together with other teenagers suffering from similar fates, they would sleep curled up on the cold floor.

"Did you ever think about reporting him to the police, or going to a shelter?" Yun-hyeok asked gently.

Si-jun's face instantly hardened.

"No. Never. That's absolutely out of the question."

"Why?"

"Because they'd separate us."

This was the blind spot of the law.

In reality, youth shelters and protective institutions separate minors by age and gender for administrative efficiency. Keeping a group of siblings together in a single facility was nearly impossible.

If the authorities intervened, Si-jun would be sent to a teenage shelter. The middle two siblings, being under thirteen, would go to a child welfare facility. The youngest, under six, would be sent to an infant protection center.

They would be scattered to the winds.

"I will never abandon my siblings," Si-jun said, his voice trembling but resolute.

To him, allowing them to be separated felt like abandoning them.

In abusive and neglectful households, it was common for the eldest sibling to take on the role of the primary caregiver. When you are young, your social circle is small, and your emotional anchors are few. The concept of the remaining family is often the only thread of hope keeping you tethered to sanity.

Because of this, Si-jun could not seek institutional protection. Consequently, he couldn't call the police.

And he had no money.

To get a legal job as a minor, he needed parental consent. If he asked, that man would find out about his income and confiscate every single penny.

In the end, the only avenues left open to Si-jun were illegal, under-the-table jobs that didn't require a guardian's signature.

When someone offered him a handsome sum of pocket money just to deliver a few packages, he had jumped at the chance, not fully understanding the gravity of transporting drugs.

"But then I got caught. Now I'm on probation, which means I can't even run away from home anymore. I'm completely screwed."

For this boy, running away was a survival mechanism, a desperate flight from violence. But now, if he fled, he would be flagged as a probation violator.

That would mean a direct ticket to juvenile reformatory.

How could the law be so relentlessly cruel to someone who was already drowning?

Yun-hyeok recalled feeling this exact same sense of profound frustration when he had first heard Si-jun's story during his very first life.

"Well, my life was already ruined anyway, so it doesn't really matter..."

"Si-jun."

"Yes?"

"Stop talking nonsense. At your age, it is physically impossible to be ruined."

"But people always say that how you start determines the rest of your life, don't they?"

"That's exactly why I'm telling you this."

Yun-hyeok looked like a young man in his early thirties, but residing within him was the soul of a veteran politician, a wealthy investor, and a philosophy professor who had lived through three entire lifetimes.

"You haven't even started yet."

To Yun-hyeok, Si-jun looked like a fragile, shivering chick.

"Transporting drugs is a serious crime, and you must face the consequences. But in your case, society bears a massive share of the responsibility as well."

Yun-hyeok looked straight into the boy's eyes.

"And I, at least, intend to take responsibility with you."

The Mir City Parents' Association for the Eradication of Youth Drugs.

Formed primarily around the parents of Tanseo High School, this organization had rapidly mobilized parents from fourteen elementary, middle, and high schools across the district.

Naturally, their collective influence was staggering. In South Korea, there was no force more terrifying than a group of angry, mobilized parents.

What had started as a localized panic over a drug runner at Tanseo High had snowballed into a massive campaign. They were currently bombarding City Hall, the local police station, and the Office of Education with an relentless barrage of formal complaints, demanding the eradication of youth drug distribution and a thorough investigation into the suppliers.

Yet, despite their fury, the police investigation remained sluggish. The "monster student" who had carried the drugs was still walking the streets on probation, and City Hall had failed to produce a single preventative measure.

Their patience pushed to its absolute limit, the parents had rented out the main seminar room at City Hall to convene an emergency general assembly today.

And just as they were beginning to discuss organizing a large-scale street protest...

Click.

The heavy doors of the seminar room swung open, and an uninvited guest stepped inside.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Lee Yun-hyeok, and I am an aspiring politician."

He had tracked down the details of today's assembly by scouring local online parenting forums.

"An aspiring politician?"

"Lee Yun-hyeok?"

The parents began to whisper among themselves.

"Excuse me, but outsiders aren't allowed in here."

"This is a private meeting for parents. You look quite young..."

While some in the room had no idea who he was, others recognized him instantly.

"Wait a minute!" a voice called out.

"It's Lee Yun-hyeok! Let him in! Let him speak!"

"Lee Yun-hyeok?"

"He's the one who redesigned the entire public transit system!"

"Ah! The citizen policy proposer?"

"Oh my goodness! Is it really him?"

"My commute to Pangyo has been so much better because of you!"

"Please, come inside!"

In an instant, the hostile atmosphere dissolved.

Yun-hyeok was ushered into the room like a VIP troubleshooter.

Their rapid shift in attitude only highlighted how desperate these parents truly were.

And it was entirely understandable. A high school student had been caught running drugs right under their children's noses, only to be released back into the community on probation. Who wouldn't be terrified?

"Hello, everyone," Yun-hyeok said as he stepped up to the podium, having been granted the floor.

"I am well aware of how deeply concerned you all are. Recently, a student from Tanseo High School was arrested for transporting drugs, only to be released on probation."

"Exactly!"

"He's clearly a dangerous delinquent! Why is he allowed to roam free?"

"I'm too scared to even send my child to school!"

"Please, you have to do something!"

The parents clamored, their voices overlapping in a wave of anxiety.

"I have personally met with that student," Yun-hyeok announced calmly.

"...!"

The room fell dead silent. The parents gasped in shock.

Personal information, especially regarding minors, was strictly protected. The school, the media, and the police ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had kept a tight lid on the details. Consequently, none of the parents knew the true identity of the boy named Kim Si-jun.

While a few might have heard his name whispered by their children, tracking down his contact information or address was an entirely different matter.

Actually meeting him was supposed to be impossible.

"H-how did you manage to meet him?"

Before the bewildered crowd, Yun-hyeok turned on the projector.

"Today, I am going to reveal the truth about that student. Please, look at the screen."

The moment Yun-hyeok clicked to the next slide, the image of a terribly emaciated boy appeared on the screen.

His neck, shoulders, chest, and jaw were covered in horrific, dark purple bruises and dried bloodstains.

Gasps of horror and outrage rippled through the audience.

"Oh my god!"

"Did he beat someone up like that?"

"I knew it! They said he was in a gang!"

"This is horrific..."

"How could anyone do that?"

Yun-hyeok waited a moment for the murmurs to subside before delivering the truth.

"This photo," Yun-hyeok said, his voice echoing clearly through the microphone, "is of the student who was arrested for transporting drugs."

A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the seminar room.

"He is 162 centimeters tall and weighs 49 kilograms. Despite being a high school boy, his growth is so severely stunted that he is smaller than most girls his age. He has never beaten anyone. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠As you can see, he physically lacks the capability to do so. And these countless wounds covering his body..."

Yun-hyeok paused, letting his eyes sweep over the crowd.

"Are the results of severe, habitual domestic abuse by his stepfather."

With his voice digitally altered and his face blurred, Kim Si-jun's interview began to play on the screen.

Even with his face hidden, the camera clearly captured his trembling hands as he nervously bit his nails throughout the recording.

The "demon" that had been conjured by the public's fear and wild rumors was nothing more than a small, fragile, and deeply abused seventeen-year-old boy.

"I have no intention of showing blind leniency toward juvenile offenders," Yun-hyeok stated firmly.

He meant it.

Malicious crimes that caused severe harm to others deserved strict punishment, regardless of the perpetrator's age.

"But this student's situation is entirely different from what we assumed. As hard as it may be to believe, his crime was a desperate bid for survival."

Confronted with this shocking reality, the parents were left speechless.

He couldn't report the abuse because he feared being torn apart from his siblings. He had no money, but any legal earnings would be stolen by his abuser. And now, bound by probation, he couldn't even run away to escape the violence.

Cornered with absolutely no way out, the boy had simply stayed and endured the beatings. The evidence of that torment was etched clearly across his wrists, cheeks, neck, and collarbone.

"Oh, dear..."

Sighs of pity began to echo through the room.

"That poor child..."

"How awful..."

These parents raised children of similar ages. Once they understood the truth, their maternal and paternal instincts naturally flared with sympathy.

"I know the Parents' Association is deeply concerned about the youth drug epidemic represented by this case," Yun-hyeok said, his voice carrying a powerful resonance.

"I will root this problem out at its source. Will you help me?"

The next day at lunchtime.

Si-jun was boiling ramen in the kitchen.

For once, the house was peaceful. That man hadn't come home last night. It wasn't unusual for him to stay out for days at a time.

"Lunch is ready. Come eat," Si-jun called out, setting the small dining table.

"Whoa! Why is there so much food?"

The twelve-year-old second sibling's eyes went wide. The table was laden not just with ramen, but with convenience store gimbap and pre-packaged lunchboxes.

"I love all this yummy food lately," the seven-year-old third sibling cheered.

The youngest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simply ate, oblivious to everything else.

But the second sibling was quick-witted.

"Oppa... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you're not doing those weird things again, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

Lately, Si-jun had been bringing home food that Yun-hyeok had sent to him through the runaway family.

That was the only reason Si-jun had agreed to meet him in the first place—because he heard the man had been desperately looking for him.

They had done the interview, and before they parted ways last night, Yun-hyeok had told him:

'You need to be separated from him immediately. Bring your siblings and get out.'

'No! Please don't report it! I'm begging you!'

'I'll make sure you and your siblings aren't separated.'

'How? You're just an unemployed guy!'

He wasn't the president, nor was he a member of the National Assembly. He was just a jobless man.

If the existing laws dictated that the children had to be split up and placed in different facilities, what could an ordinary citizen possibly do?

'Don't report it! I mean it! Please, just leave us alone! I only need to hold out for two more years!'

Si-jun had fled back to his house after that outburst.

And now, on this peaceful Saturday afternoon, the lack of any police presence suggested that the man had kept his word and hadn't reported them.

Thank goodness...

Pound! Pound! Pound!

A heavy knock rattled the front door.

For a terrifying second, Si-jun thought it was that man. But what came next was even more frightening.

"Police! Please open the door."

Si-jun's heart plummeted. His siblings, sensing the danger, froze in fear.

"W-who is it?"

Trembling, Si-jun unlocked and opened the door. Standing in the hallway were two police officers, Yun-hyeok, and a middle-aged man and woman he had never seen before.

Yun-hyeok understood why children who had suffered long-term neglect and abuse found it impossible to trust adults.

But sometimes, the authority of the state had to intervene.

"I told you not to report it!" Si-jun screamed, tears streaming down his face as the officers gently held him back.

"Just go back to doing your YouTube! I even did the interview for you! Why are you doing this?!"

"You aren't going to a state facility," Yun-hyeok said, his voice calm and absolute.

Si-jun's sobbing stopped instantly.

"...What?"

"You should thank this lady here."

Yun-hyeok gestured to the woman standing beside him. She was looking at Si-jun's bruised face and the trash-filled apartment with a look of profound sorrow.

"Oh, you poor things," she sighed deeply, stepping forward. "Hello, Si-jun. I'm the Vice President of the Tanseo High Parents' Association."

"..."

Si-jun flinched at the name. Only days ago, that very association had been loudly demanding his expulsion and transfer.

"I happen to work in real estate leasing," she explained gently.

But now, she was entirely on his side.

"I have a vacant property nearby, and we've decided to let you and your siblings use it for the time being."

"A vacant property...?"

"Si-jun," Yun-hyeok intervened. "If the private sector proposes a temporary shelter and City Hall approves it, you and your siblings can stay there together instead of being sent to separate state facilities."

The law was imperfect.

That was a reality everyone had to accept. There would always be blind spots.

But those very blind spots were where administrative competence shone brightest—something the incompetent former Mayor, Baek Hyeong-guk, had never understood.

"Stay there with your siblings for just one month."

Furthermore, the limitations of current laws served as the perfect justification for drafting new ones.

"We are going to draft a municipal ordinance so that you can all live together permanently."

"But... mister, you're unemployed..."

He was right.

Drafting local ordinances was the job of the City Council, not an ordinary citizen.

"Don't worry. I have my ways."

Trust me, Si-jun.

This mister wasn't just an administrative genius. Having served as a five-term member of the National Assembly, he was a master of the legislative craft.