A Master of Legislation and Administration
"Charge them rent."
The welfare department officer's eyes narrowed at the rather shocking solution.
"Charge them rent? The kids?"
"Yes."
"Where would they get the money?"
"The city will have to provide them with jobs and income. A significant number of those students don't go to school. Many have already dropped out. Instead, they're working."
Wasn't that exactly why Kim Si-jun had joined the runaway family in the first place? Because the kids there were earning money somehow.
"The problem is that most of the work they do is illegal. I'm saying we should give them proper jobs so they aren't driven to those extremes."
Generally, welfare policies for youth at risk focus on providing them with opportunities to study in an environment equal to that of teenagers from ordinary families.
Behind this lies the Korean culture of competition and hierarchy, where success is defined by studying hard, getting into a prestigious university, and landing a job at a major corporation. Thus, an obsession with a fair starting line translates into a thirst for 'equality in an environment where one can focus on studying.'
Yun-hyeok had no intention of fighting that concept right now. However, for these kids, there was something far more urgent than studying: mental healing, rehabilitation, and socialization.
"These are kids who already think their lives are ruined."
Shouldn't they first dismantle that extreme self-loathing and sense of defeat before expecting them to study or do anything else?
"You're familiar with Albert Bandura's theory of self-efficacy, right?"
It is the theory that humans perceive themselves as useful beings when they produce meaningful results through work.
Using this principle, psychiatrists often prescribe 'work therapy' to patients.
It is a treatment method that helps restore self-esteem through the process of securing a proper job—even if it isn't one others would envy—pulling one's own weight in society, and earning a wage.
Yun-hyeok had adapted this concept.
It was also highly appropriate from the perspective of restorative justice.
Statistically, the most effective way to curb recidivism among juvenile offenders is not harsh punishment, but socialization through employment—a theory supported by countless research studies.
"There have been models of self-reliance support facilities that involve labor in the past, but they were never implemented properly. But let's make it work here. And then, we charge them rent. That way, we save the city budget, treat the kids, and maintain fairness."
The welfare department officer looked somewhat astonished. Albert Bandura, work therapy, restorative justice—none of these were concepts that typically cropped up in casual conversation with an ordinary citizen.
"Did you... major in psychology?"
"No."
He had merely studied applied ethics and the philosophy of mind during his third life as a philosophy professor.
"And, Officer, we also need to align this with administrative procedures. As you know."
For those aged fifteen or older, an employment permit is required. They must submit a parental consent form along with a confirmation letter from their school principal, but for most runaway youth, the parental consent part is where the problem lies.
However, if they are confirmed victims of domestic violence, the assigned civil servant can sign as a temporary guardian in place of the legal guardian.
And they would adhere to the labor hour limits for minors.
A recommendation of thirty-five hours or less per week. A strict ban on late-night work.
In other words, they would work for three to four hours starting at 5:00 PM, after high school classes end, and receive wages similar to university work-study students.
"If they want to, let's send them back to school. Then, after school, we can let them work in the industries they're interested in—like food service or workshops. During vacations, we could even allow them to work full-time, provided they consent."
The welfare officer nodded at Yun-hyeok's words.
Even among students from ordinary families, many who have no interest in studying work part-time at youth learning centers after school.
"That sounds feasible. I'll look into pushing this forward."
"Great. In that case, I'd like to recommend a specific job that these kids would be exceptionally good at."
Yun-hyeok presented one more idea.
There was another reason why the major player in Mir City's rental business—who also served as the vice president of the Tanseo High School Parents' Association—had been so furious about the student drug runner.
It was because her own son, Kim Tae-yeong, was a victim of school violence.
Consequently, the vice president utterly loathed juvenile delinquency, punks, and school bullies.
But she never could have imagined that her helping Kim Si-jun would return to her in this particular way.
"Mom, the funniest thing happened at school today!"
The story her son babbled about so excitedly upon returning home was shocking.
The school bully who beat him daily, harassed him, extorted his money, and forced him to run shuttle errands for bread had been demoted to a third-rate punk overnight.
"Someone from the runaway family Kim Si-jun used to be in came back to school."
It was the "bandit chief" of the runaway family.
His return to Tanseo High School led to a swift restructuring of the peer hierarchy.
Standing at a towering 190 centimeters with a face that made it impossible to believe he was a high schooler, the former local kingpin had thoroughly put the school bullies in their place the moment he returned.
This was a policy modeled after the Scared Straight program that Yun-hyeok had benchmarked.
What was that?
It was a juvenile delinquency correction program used in the United States. It involved bringing in thoroughly reformed, exemplary inmates who had committed serious crimes—like cartel members—to face off against petty school bullies.
Just a few words of conversation, and the kids would instantly straighten up.
After all, the ones middle and high school students feared most were not parents, teachers, or the police. Nor was it National Assembly members or the President.
What they feared most were their seniors.
"I might have held back a year, but even if I'm older, I won't act like some high-and-mighty senior. But in this school, if anyone touches anyone else, I won't let it slide."
The school bully couldn't utter a single peep and kept his eyes glued to the floor, while the bandit chief of the runaway family slung an arm around the school outcast, Kim Tae-yeong, and headed toward the snack bar.
This was part of the runaway youth school-return program, born out of thorough counseling, healing, and supervision by the city hall's welfare department.
After strictly selecting "exemplary" students, they were tasked with mediating violence and bullying among their peers at school. In return, it served as a part-time job that reduced their rent at the shelter.
"My goodness!"
The vice president gasped in sheer admiration at this brilliant display of fighting fire with fire, and that evening, she made braised short ribs and delivered them to Kim Si-jun's place, telling him to share them with his friends.
About two weeks passed in a dizzying blur. Pressuring city hall to pass the validity review, utilizing the local Hanmin Party committee to convene an extraordinary session of the city council, passing the ordinance, handling the preliminary preparations for administrative execution, and personally running around to meet runaway youth and persuade them to move into the newly prepared shelters.
Only when he finally had a moment to catch his breath did Yun-hyeok visit the house.
"I came to see how you're holding up."
It was the place where Kim Si-jun and his younger siblings were receiving temporary protection.
In just two weeks, Kim Si-jun had become an entirely different person. The bruises and wounds on his body had almost completely healed and vanished, and his expression was much brighter. He had even put on a bit of healthy weight, as if he had been eating well.
Kids really do recover fast, Yun-hyeok thought.
"Hyung!"
Kim Si-jun ran over with a bright smile, his younger siblings trailing behind him in a swarm.
"So I've been promoted from mister to hyung?"
"Haha!"
Kim Si-jun now had enough peace of mind to joke around.
"Well, it was dark back then. Seeing you in the light, you're definitely a hyung."
"I'm pretty sure we did the interview in a cafe with bright fluorescent lights..."
Yun-hyeok went over and sat on the sofa with Kim Si-jun and his siblings.
"Is there anything uncomfortable?"
Yun-hyeok asked.
"No, I'm fine! Everything is so great. The kids love it too..."
"Since we passed the ordinance, there won't be any issues with your stay here. And..."
Yun-hyeok shared the news he had heard this morning.
"They caught the drug suppliers."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Those scumbags had been using runaway youth to drop drugs into unmanned convenience store delivery lockers, and then using other runaway youth to retrieve the drugs from those lockers and deliver them to their "customers."
But once the city hall began taking in runaway youth on a massive scale, the suppliers' trail was exposed.
With the cooperation of the runaway youth, the police lured the suppliers out and swept them up in a single dragnet.
Some complex problems can be resolved with anticlimactic speed once you pull out the single, essential brick at their foundation.
"I see. I only did the deliveries to the buyers, so the police were disappointed they couldn't get much out of me."
"I figured there had to be other kids entangled in it besides you."
"Actually, I have something to tell you too, Hyung."
"What is it?"
"That man... got arrested."
"Ah."
He meant Si-jun's stepfather.
Unlike the drug suppliers, a domestic abuser was too minor a criminal to make the news.
Yun-hyeok held his tongue, finding it difficult to gauge exactly how Kim Si-jun must be feeling.
"When they took him away, I went with the social worker to watch..."
Kim Si-jun scratched at the scar on his wrist.
"Maybe it's because his head was hanging low, but... he looked so small."
"He is small," Yun-hyeok said. "He's just someone who preys on children. A small, pathetic human being. Not some demon or monster. I hope you can let go of your fear of him now."
"...Yes."
Kim Si-jun nodded.
"I'm okay now."
"Are you going to school?"
"I'm starting next semester."
"At Tanseo High?"
"Yes... The Parents' Association sorted things out with the school. I want to do well in school from now on."
"Good."
"And I'm working in the cafeteria at city hall."
"Really?"
"Yes. The kitchen staff praise me, saying I'm a good cook. One chef even told me to come work at his restaurant after I graduate."
"That's wonderful. Work hard."
"And when work is over, I can pack up the leftover side dishes to eat with the kids in the morning."
Kim Si-jun pointed to his second-youngest sibling.
While the third and fourth siblings had quickly lost interest and gone to play in their room, the second sibling remained seated beside them, watching their expressions warily.
"Hyung."
"Yeah?"
"..."
Suddenly, Kim Si-jun bolted up from the sofa and bowed ninety degrees to Yun-hyeok.
"Thank you."
Startled, the second sibling jumped up and bowed deeply alongside him.
"Thank you!"
"..."
The younger sibling straightened up quickly, but Kim Si-jun remained bowed.
His shoulders trembled violently.
Then, he collapsed back down.
"Ugh..."
With a small whimper, Kim Si-jun buried his face in his hands. He burst into tears.
The accumulated fear, anxiety, sorrow, the safety he had finally secured, and the overwhelming relief and gratitude all rushed over him at once, spilling from his eyes.
He kept wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, but the tears wouldn't stop. Huddled on the floor, he finally looked like a child for the first time since Yun-hyeok had met him.
Kim Si-jun sobbed, trying to muffle his voice.
The second sibling hovered anxiously, unsure of what to do, while Yun-hyeok slid down from the sofa and pulled Si-jun into an embrace.
"If you're grateful," he said, "make sure you start this next chapter right."
Grow up to be a fine adult.
Your life is just beginning.
Yun-hyeok made the national broadcast once again through this incident.
The narrative was compelling.
The trajectory of a student neglected in a legal blind spot falling into illicit activities, the warm compassion of the Parents' Association that embraced him, and the invocation of the Ordinance Enactment/Abolition Request Right—a system that had previously existed only on paper. It was a wake-up call to the administrative authorities who had done nothing but watch while civil society solved the problem.
Moreover, since juvenile drug abuse was a national issue and not just confined to Mir City, all kinds of media outlets eagerly reported on the story.
Across various online communities, the tale of the "monster unemployed guy" who had single-handedly overhauled the city's entire transit system, rescued youth at risk, and rooted out drug crimes circulated like a heroic epic.
Along with jokes like this:
[Sign it, Mayor of Mir!]
The real administrative head of Mir City... is... Lee Yun-hyeok...
"Hahahahaha!"
Kim Ji-eun, a junior on leave from Hankuk University, cackled. She showed the edited clip of the national broadcast to Ji Hye-min, who was drinking coffee with her at the cafe.
"I thought this guy was amazing back during the Doma Elementary incident, but is he seriously going to become the Mayor of Mir City?"
"..."
"If I knew this would happen, I should've gotten his autograph back then."
"..."
Ji Hye-min silently sipped her coffee. Her throat felt dry.
The reason was simple: she was the anonymous editor.
"But seriously, who's editing his videos?"
"W-Well, who knows..."
She was naturally shy.
She lacked the courage to step forward because she was still embarrassed by the foolish thing she had done back at Doma Elementary—trespassing into someone else's house—but she genuinely wanted to support the journey of this passionate young politician.
And there was a problem with the video editing for this "youth at risk" episode.
"Maybe because they're a volunteer, but they aren't working very fast!"
Just as Kim Ji-eun complained, Ji Hye-min hadn't been able to work on the video yet.
She couldn't help it.
Because she didn't have the footage of the student's interview!
The unedited, vlog-style videos uploaded to Yun-hyeok's channel included scenes of him persuading the Parents' Association, the parents' protest rally, gathering signatures for the Mayor of Mir City, persuading the local committee, and visiting the welfare department to prepare preliminary measures. Yet, the original footage of the student's interview was nowhere to be found.
It was obvious that the entire incident had started with that interview. It was a confirmed fact in both the national broadcasts and the rumors circulating on social media.
Yet, Yun-hyeok refused to give her the interview footage—the very core of the story!
Ji Hye-min had felt a bit frustrated.
The national news had already laid bare everything, even showing "Student K's" scars and bruises in detail, albeit with mosaic blurring.
But Yun-hyeok refused to compromise.
This student was different from Jang Yu-ri, who had danced to "Ddu-Du Ddu-Du" back at Doma Elementary School. If a memory was traumatic for a minor, Yun-hyeok would absolutely never exploit it for political gain.
He is pretty cool, though...
Funny enough, Ji Hye-min actually felt a quiet wave of admiration at Yun-hyeok's stubbornness. It was a feeling similar to what she had felt during the Doma Elementary School incident.
But how on earth was she supposed to edit the video then?!
Having inadvertently become the PR assistant of an unemployed man, Ji Hye-min gulped down her iced coffee.