Jeongin Academy, the Specialist in Reformation (3)
A short while later.
The place I arrived at, following the old man from the sundries shop, was the director's office.
"Isn't this the director's office?"
"It is."
Why on earth did he call me here...?
As I wondered about it, the elder abruptly opened the door to the director's office.
"Uh..."
I worried it was too rude, but there was no one inside.
"What are you doing? Come in."
"Ah, yes. Coming in."
"Close the door. It's cold."
"Yes..."
I shut the door. In the meantime, the elder plopped down into the chair beside the director's desk.
"Isn't that the director's seat?"
"It is. And for the next fortnight, I'm the director."
"Pardon?"
"I'm acting as director. The fellow has some clan business and needs to head back home for a bit."
"I see."
Ah, so that's why the elder came here.
Director Young Se-yun's clan?
A clan around here with the surname Young...
One soon came to mind, and I asked cautiously.
"Elder, by any chance, is the director from the Gangju Young Clan?"
"Correct."
I recalled something from my previous life.
The Gangju Young Clan had its own history and traditions, but a minor issue snowballed until the clan collapsed.
The current director must hold a fairly high position in the clan.
He would have received ample support from them, but when the clan fell, that backing vanished.
That must be why running this academy has been so tough.
"So, why did you call me here?"
"Got about a fortnight free?"
"Well, as for my schedule..."
"Make time, even if you don't."
If you were going to say that, why even ask?
As I grumbled inwardly, the elder continued with a chuckle.
"He mentioned taking a few instructors with him to the clan."
"I see."
"So we're short-staffed. How about serving as an instructor for the next fortnight?"
"Pardon?"
I scratched my head.
"Hm, honestly, I figured you'd ask me to go with the director to his clan."
"Why?"
"Because you care so deeply for him, Elder?"
The elder burst into laughter at my words.
His silence was answer enough—my guess was spot on. Earlier, when he'd spoken with the director, the elder's eyes had brimmed with trust and affection.
"So I thought you'd ask me out of concern."
"Wrong tree, lad."
"Even I can see that now."
"How many swords has that fool broken so far...?"
In that case, I should mention this.
"Elder, I heard something the other day. Has the director already left?"
"No. He sets out tomorrow morning."
"Then please pass on a message: Guard the heirloom well."
The elder's eyes gleamed as he replied.
"I'll make sure he gets it."
"Thank you."
As expected, the elder didn't pry.
In my memories, the trouble in the director's clan stemmed from that heirloom.
With this heads-up, they should handle it fine.
A powerhouse the elder acknowledges won't run into issues.
"So, do you accept my proposal for a fortnight as temporary instructor?"
I sighed at the elder's question.
"Even if I said no, I wouldn't have a choice, would I?"
"Wise lad."
.
.
.
The next day,
I sent Brother Jeong Ho and Poet Song Lok's family ahead to the Hubei Province headquarters.
Palgap and the escorts packed up and came to Jeongin Academy. We'd be boarding here for the next fortnight.
"This way, please."
At the old man's request, Instructor Wi led us to the instructors' dorms.
"Use this room and that one."
"Thank you."
Palgap opened the door first, glanced around, and said,
"Looks like cleaning comes first."
Truth be told, the dorm room assigned to me wasn't great.
It was pretty rundown.
The floorboards creaked under Palgap's feet with every step.
Cracks and warps in the walls let in drafts of cold air.
They must have given us one of the better ones...
I suddenly understood why the old man from the sundries shop had roped me into this temporary instructor gig.
A hint that if we're sponsoring, do it right?
Palgap said nothing about the state of the room and quietly started cleaning.
That's Palgap for you.
Instructor Wi scratched his head, face flushing slightly.
"Sorry for the poor cleaning. The academy just doesn't have enough staff... Instructors handle their own rooms, so I did a quick once-over, but..."
I waved it off with a smile.
"Don't worry about it. It's clean enough. Palgap's standards are just sky-high. And if instructors clean their own, we'll manage."
I continued,
"Mind giving me the details while we tidy up?"
"Of course."
Instructor Wi gave a concise overview of the essentials.
The Jeongin Academy program lasted a basic three years.
"'Basic' three years means extensions are possible?"
"Yes. If they're deemed insufficiently reformed, they get another three years."
"..."
I could see why Instructor Wi had turned into such an upright man.
But from what he'd said yesterday—"They're still green, that's why they try that nonsense. Third-years wouldn't pull that crap"—plenty must serve the extra term.
"Mornings are literacy studies, afternoons specialized training."
He explained the curriculum.
"Classes are leveled by skill. For morning literacy, total beginners start with the basics, then Lesser Learning and..."
"Hold on. Isn't Lesser Learning for kids? More importantly, are there students here who can't even read?"
The minimum entry age was fifteen, as far as I knew. This place was special in many ways.
"..."
His silent gaze said it all.
"Got it."
Makes sense. To end up here, they were utter delinquents—unlikely they'd studied properly.
Literacy progressed from Thousand Character Classic to the Four Books and Three Classics, leveled accordingly.
"Post-lunch, specialized training tailored to each—but our capacity is limited, so it's mostly martial arts."
Instructor Wi turned to me.
"But the world isn't just for martial artists, right? We teach farming basics where we can, and merchant math for guild work."
"I see."
My mind started turning.
What if we dispatched staff from our merchant group for systematic training here?
Could I cultivate the talent I need faster and in greater numbers?
As I pondered, Instructor Wi went on.
"Evenings after dinner are character education."
"Character education?"
"As you know, our students' morals leave much to be desired."
True enough.
This was a reform academy for problem cases only.
"The director handles it personally."
With him away, the sundries shop elder—acting director—would take over.
"After that, personal time until haesi (9-11 PM), then lights out post-roll call."
Instructor Wi continued.
"No leaving the dorms from bedtime until mao hour (5-7 AM) next morning, barring emergencies."
"Got it."
"That's when instructors get busy."
"Huh? Overtime?"
"You could call it that—or our core duty. Guiding students away from rule-breaking. Nights see tons sneaking out for mischief."
"How do you guide them? Sweet-talk 'em back?"
Instructor Wi snorted.
"They'd just beat the instructor senseless."
I recalled him swinging his wooden sword at the drinking students yesterday.
"By the way, is your nickname Yakcha?"
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem... Anyway, most students here don't respect teachers as teachers. Over half get expelled for assaulting instructors."
"..."
He handed me a scroll, which I unrolled.
Do not leave the academy without permission.
Do not use violence against instructors or staff.
Do not drink alcohol on academy grounds.
Do not smoke tobacco on academy grounds.
Do not sleep with women casually.
"Spot a violation, beat them without hesitation."
Rules unthinkable in any normal academy.
I understood why the director hated meddlers in operations.
This place was unique.
Delinquents who'd ignored hierarchy, swung fists freely, lived selfishly.
Would standard education work on them?
For normals, gentle guidance suffices.
But for lost causes, you need delinquent-specific methods.
Frankly, students here get punished for doing what they shouldn't.
Hate getting hit? Follow the rules.
He explained more: instructor duties beyond rules. Thus began my unplanned fortnight as instructor.
.
.
.
One reason the sundries shop elder asked me to fill in was classes.
One instructor going with the director taught basic math.
After lunch, I headed to the classroom.
Mine: beginner arithmetic. For first-years?
My steps halted as I pondered how to teach.
— My lord, a word.
Jin Yu Warrior's sound transmission brought vital intel.
These bastards...
Good thing I'd sent him ahead to scout.
Now I saw why the instructors warned caution.
* * *
Third classroom.
First-year students gathered there.
Per the director's philosophy—basic math mandatory—they had to attend.
True to Jeongin Academy first-years, they ignored the lesson, buzzing about the new instructor.
"Hey, heard the teacher changed today?"
"Yeah, some instructor."
"Supposedly drop-dead gorgeous. A woman maybe?"
"Could be."
"Wanna test 'em today?"
"Got a plan?"
They whispered, scheming.
Ambush the instructor on entry, strip 'em by force—a brazen outrage.
"Still green, no guard up."
"Finally, some entertainment."
As they snickered, a lookout at the door yelled,
"Instructor's coming!"
"Ready up!"
Over half were martial clan heirs—confident in a scrap.
Just misapplying it.
Door opened; one lunged a fist at Eun Seo-ho.
Thwack!
But it was blocked effortlessly.
"One plus one?"
"Guh!"
"Wrong!"
Crack—!
Eun Seo-ho's kick nailed his shin; blocking another's punch, he asked,
"One plus two?"
"..."
Crack—!
His kicks weren't light; shin-struck students crumpled, groaning.
"Three plus two?"
"F-five!"
"Correct."
The right answer went unpunished; he sighed in relief.
Eun Seo-ho quizzed all, then took the podium.
Two-thirds groaned on the floor; he grinned at them.
"I'm Eun Seo-ho. I'll teach you basic arithmetic for the next fortnight. Let's make it fun."
The students shuddered at his expression.
Instinctual dread of what awaited.