Do You Know Who I Am? (2)
The question came out of nowhere—abrupt, almost absurd.
Blank faces all around. Everyone looked utterly floored.
Who was he, exactly?
Sabaeja Ha Taewoong.
A student admitted under special consideration as a social care recipient because his family couldn’t afford otherwise. His entrance scores had been decent, but among Cheonghwa’s students he stood out for nothing. The problem kid who had used violence in the cafeteria today and been hauled into the principal’s office for it.
That was everything the people in this room knew about Ha Taewoong.
Is this bastard out of his mind?
At Taewoong’s insolent attitude, Park Donggeun’s thick eyebrows twitched. The kid who had kept his head bowed had suddenly started issuing warnings like he’d eaten something wrong, and after taking a beating from a parent he had even laughed.
Every now and then students cracked under academic pressure and flipped. Did this bastard come here today ready to go all the way?
Oh Seora’s mother, Jo Huijeong, felt a sudden jolt of fear. Cheonghwa was famous for how many Sabaeja students couldn’t endure school life and dropped out midway. Rumors circulated that right before they quit, some of them exploded with all the bravado they had bottled up and turned the place upside down. For all she knew, Ha Taewoong’s eyes might have spun and he could be about to lash out.
The Sabaeja who had taken a vicious slap and then, smiling, offered the other cheek. Even while the teachers raised their voices, he showed not the slightest trace of panic.
“Why isn’t anyone answering? I asked if you know who I am.”
He’s insane.
None of them had ever seen that manic glint in Ha Taewoong’s eyes before. The glossy light in them was nothing like a moment ago.
“Taewoong…”
Homeroom teacher Kim Changyong called his name in a voice thick with pity. The boy had entered through the Sabaeja track, but Kim had never once discriminated against him. At Cheonghwa High, even the non-core subject teachers weren’t so different in status from the Sabaeja students. Compared to the Korean, English, math, science, and social studies teachers, their say carried little weight. Classical Chinese teacher Kim Changyong—lumped in with the arts and physical education as a “non-core” subject—was routinely slighted by both other faculty and students. Even a Seoguk University graduate like him suffered nearly as much humiliation here as Taewoong did.
Too many eyes watching; he hadn’t been able to look after the boy openly. He had treated him exactly like the rest of the class. Today was no different. Mid-lesson he had heard that PE teacher Park Donggeun had unilaterally summoned Taewoong and dragged him off. The destination: the principal’s office. Without time to sort out the circumstances, Kim had come running. Student discipline was supposed to be reported to the homeroom teacher first—that was school rules and common sense. One way or another, the boy had been under his care for a year.
The moment he arrived, something was unfolding that he could scarcely believe even with his own eyes. A parent had unilaterally slapped the student. For a split second his vision went red. Without thinking of consequences he had exploded in anger. No matter what anyone said, at school this was his kid.
But the limits were clear. At Cheonghwa High a homeroom teacher’s role was reduced to the bare minimum. The students came from such powerful families that they rarely needed their teacher for anything. Frankly, a homeroom teacher had neither the standing nor the strength to intervene. To Kim Changyong, Taewoong felt like a child with powerless parents. And right now that child in his care was showing every sign of going on a rampage. He had no justification to stop him. No—he didn’t want to stop him.
The principal and Parent Association officers were all present. Unless something major intervened, Taewoong’s expulsion was a foregone conclusion.
Footsteps. Taewoong walked straight up to the principal.
“…”
He dropped into the seat opposite the Parent Association members without asking anyone’s permission.
“You—you! Get up! How dare you act so insolent!”
Park Donggeun, who had been watching, snapped and barked the order. Nowhere was he more careful with his manners than in the principal’s office. Seeing Taewoong behave with complete disregard for authority in a place where even he watched his step was infuriating.
Taewoong didn’t so much as glance at him. Instead he lifted his smartphone, tapped rapidly, and played a recording.
“No matter if it’s only one free meal a day, aren’t you stuffing yourself way too much just because it’s free?”
“Go easy on him, Seora. My dad says kids like that have holes in their stomachs.”
“The cafeteria food’s trash anyway—better if it gets used up somehow.”
“Even so, our little bear cub is eating way too much. Leftovers go out as animal feed. What if the animals go hungry?”
“Still, the school’s own bear cub comes first.”
“So… should we let it slide?”
“Be good and hold back, Seora. Animal welfare. They have a right to survive on their own.”
“Fine. Today I’m feeling generous. Stuff yourselves, Sabaeja piggies. Hohohoho!”
Oh Seora and her clique’s voices rang through the principal’s office with perfect clarity. Even on a second hearing the words were inhuman.
“G-give that here! Right now!!”
Oh Seora’s mother, Jo Huijeong, turned frantic. Eyes blazing, she lunged to snatch the phone from Taewoong’s hand. If that recording got outside the school it would be disastrous in every direction. Thankfully they were still inside the principal’s office.
“No.”
Taewoong refused with a faint smirk.
“You planning to blackmail us with that? Go ahead! Who do you think is going to listen to a little shit like you?”
“Does filing a school-violence lawsuit count as blackmail too?”
Taewoong murmured it as if talking to himself.
“Taewoong, dear. Friends mess around like this. Delete it right now.”
Lee Gyeongja, the Parent Association treasurer who had been watching from the start, stepped in. Sharp-eyed as always, she had already sensed this incident could balloon beyond control—and she had also picked up on the strange atmosphere.
That kid… what is he?
She studied Ha Taewoong carefully. He was clearly a second-year high school student, yet he didn’t look his age at all. Summoned to the principal’s office—the place where the school’s highest authority sat—he had been slapped without warning by the formidable Jo Huijeong, yet he remained unnervingly calm. He had smiled in a way no normal child would, but the light in his eyes was perfectly rational. He showed none of the usual traits of kids raised in hard circumstances. Most of them carried venomous eyes and a thick layer of servility. Ha Taewoong, though, radiated the unreadable seasoned quality of a man who had already lived a full adult life. Of course it could be her imagination. Still, the question he kept repeating bothered her on a gut level. An ominous feeling kept rising.
Do you know who I am…
“Friends? Auntie, do you chase your friends around while they’re eating and harass them?”
“…”
“Of course I know it’s because of the trash upbringing at home. That’s exactly why I can’t just let this slide.”
“Hey! You really want to die?! Do you have any idea who I am?!”
Jo Huijeong’s eyes spun at Taewoong’s retort. She had been trying to hold herself in check, but her patience hit rock bottom. Her husband’s sprawling connections reached into the underworld. When you stripped everything down, Jo Huijeong had nothing to fear.
“Why? Is your husband some gang boss?”
“……YAAAAAAAAAAAH! You little XX!!”
The last thread of reason she had been clinging to snapped free.
Auntie: out.
Oh Seora’s mother’s high-pitched dual-stream of curses shredded the air of the principal’s office. The principal, the treasurer auntie, and both teachers all twisted their faces. No matter how angry you got, this was a place where you were supposed to keep a grip on the leash of reason. Classic limit of a newly rich auntie. She flipped her whites and detonated.
The color that exploded out of her along with the rage was pure pitch-black dark aura—the densest shade I had seen all day. It made the murky energy rolling off the principal, Teacher Park, and the treasurer auntie sitting in front of me look mild by comparison. Only Teacher Kim Changyong’s aura stayed clear and clean.
Grandmother’s gift. At times like this I really wished there was an off button. Facing the auras these inhuman people dragged around made bile rise in my throat.
Pop!
Huh??
The second I thought about a button, the auras I’d been seeing on everyone simply vanished. People looked ordinary again, the way they used to.
What? It doesn’t show anymore? Then what if I want to see it again??
Pop!!
Exactly as I thought it.
Everyone’s unique colors flooded back into my vision at once.
Holy shit!
It had an ON/OFF function!
“Heh.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
Jackpot buff!
“You little thug bastard? You’re laughing right now? You’re dying to die, aren’t you? You really want to die that badly?”
Oh Seora’s mother kept raging. Once her temper detonated there was no reining it in.
“Auntie! Do you even know who I am while you’re doing this?”
“…”
Same question. Already the third time. At the identical, repeated query, the mouths around the room clamped shut in confusion.
“Hmph! What, is a nothing like you trying to claim you’re some chaebol family’s hidden bloodline?”
Oh Seora’s mother snorted.
Oh? How did she know?
“……How did you know? Haha. It was supposed to be a secret. I am the youngest grandson of a chaebol family.”
The truth came out far too easily, and I confirmed the fact right there on the spot.
“What…? Youngest grandson of a chaebol family? You? Hohohohohohohohohohohot.”
Oh Seora’s mother finally rocked back and forth with full-throated laughter.
Yeah. Laugh all you want while you still can.
“This bastard’s lost it. Principal! This kid’s even good at lying—expel him immediately. In all my years as a teacher I’ve never seen such a vicious piece of trash!”
Vicious piece of trash?
Park Donggeun piled on without reading the room. But—
“Can you take responsibility for that statement?”
The treasurer auntie asked, suddenly grave. Unlike the others, her eyes held real thought.
“Treasurer. There’s no need to listen to another word out of that bastard. I’ll drag him out right now!”
Park Donggeun—trash who barely qualified as a teacher—rose with a snarl.
“Taewoong…”
Teacher Kim Changyong’s expression was just as dumbfounded. Everyone was writing it off as pure nonsense.
“My father’s name is Ha Donghwi.”
“……??”
I enunciated my father’s name clearly. They shut their mouths with faces that said they had no idea what I was talking about. Still hadn’t grasped the meaning.
“Search it on Naver.”
I kept my posture perfectly straight and continued in a calm voice.
“If it’s the Ha family… don’t tell me…”
The treasurer auntie caught on first. She opened her mouth, then let the sentence trail off unfinished. Something had clicked in her eyes.
I met that look and smiled.
“Are there that many chaebols in Korea with the surname Ha?”
I asked it back with a mischievous smile. The grandfather who had never been the slightest help when I was surviving alone—now everything was different. Haeryun Group, a name that carried real weight among Korea’s upper crust. I intended to use it properly.
“……You’re saying you’re the grandson of Haeryun Group??”
Oh Seora’s mother asked in a voice that shook. The woman who had been flashing venomous eyes and had completely lost her reason now looked like every ounce of strength had drained out of her.
“Yes. I am Ha Taewoong, youngest grandson of Haeryun Group’s Chairman Ha Cheolgon!”