Jeongin Academy, the Reform Specialist (4)

My impression from meeting the instructors and assistants at this academy was that they were on edge all day long.

Because they never knew when or where the students might attack them.

That struck me as unfair.

Why should only the instructors and assistants be the ones living in tension? For things to be fair, the students needed to feel it too.

So I decided to use my role teaching beginner arithmetic to instill some tension in them.

The questions I asked were simple enough for a ten-year-old child to answer.

But if they let their guard down, they'd stumble over a sudden question—and the price was a kick to the shin from me.

Too harsh?

According to Jin Yu Warrior, all the first-year students had conspired against us.

Self-inflicted, right?

Class began.

"A merchant here buys one bolt of silk for silver taels..."

"Zzz... Zzz..."

"...?"

I stopped mid-sentence and turned my head.

One student was dozing off openly.

The others snickered at the sight.

They still hadn't learned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their lesson.

I grinned and approached him.

"This is class time. Wake up."

"Aw, crap! What?"

"Five minus one?"

"Shut u—gah!"

His words cut off. My foot had connected with his shin.

I smiled down at his groaning form.

"Two plus two?"

"What the hel—urk!"

"Three plus one?"

"Four! Four!"

"Correct. No more sleeping in my class."

"..."

"You heard me?"

"Yes..."

Only after two kicks to the shin did that student finally surrender.

I hadn't put much force into it, but since I hit the same spot twice, it must hurt like hell.

Plus, I'd layered in the subtleties of the technique Jin Yeong Daehyeop had taught me, so it packed a punch.

"If you ever need to kick someone's shin, give this a try. It's an application of palace martial arts..."

He'd said it was a method mainly used by Gold Guard warriors to subdue criminals.

One might argue it was overkill to use such a technique on students' shins.

But doesn't it all depend on how you use it?

If it's for guiding the students toward reform, then it's simply a tool for their reform.

Class ended.

The first-year students slumped over their desks. They'd concentrated so hard they were utterly drained.

And...

Their shins burned like fire.

But when they rolled up their pants, there wasn't a mark—enough to drive anyone mad.

"What the hell is with that assistant..."

"Damn it!"

As the students vented their frustration, one among them felt differently.

Yeon-sik, the student whose father was a Gold Guard warrior.

He kept rubbing his shin, the pain still lingering.

And it jogged a memory.

'Th-this is definitely... like when Dad punished me...'

His father was soft-hearted and spoiled him rotten, but he'd lost his temper a few times over serious misdeeds.

Once, his father had kicked his shin, and the pain felt just like that.

No—this hurt even more.

As far as he knew, this was a Gold Guard technique.

'But that assistant doesn't seem like a Gold Guard...'

Evening came.

Yeon-sik headed to the cafeteria with his usual crew.

The food tasted like crap and they were short on money with no outings allowed, but they had no choice.

"Sigh, today's slop is as nasty as ever."

"Tell me about it."

"Eating this beggar chow all day is dragging my palate down with it. Back before this place, I was a real gourmet..."

"I miss Cheonhwaru stir-fry."

They grumbled as they headed back to the dorms.

On the way, they passed the assistants' quarters.

"Palgap, toss 'em higher."

"Got it."

They turned at the voice. A bearish man hurled more than ten wooden planks into the air.

A handsome familiar face stomped the ground and shot up.

The new assistant, Eun Seo-ho.

He spun midair and smashed the planks with his feet.

Crack!Snap!

With crisp sounds, every plank shattered and rained down.

Eun Seo-ho landed lightly.

"Young master, why the sudden focus on kicks?"

"Oh, just feels like I'll be using them a lot lately."

"..."

Yeon-sik's crew flinched, their shins throbbing anew in phantom pain.

Meanwhile, Yeon-sik himself trembled.

He'd been unsure earlier, but now it was clear.

The martial art Eun Seo-ho had just used was the same as his father's.

Palace martial arts.

Which meant...

'That assistant is a Gold Guard like Dad!'

His father only seemed soft because he doted on him—but Yeon-sik knew how terrifying he truly was.

The Gold Guard warriors were no different.

.

.

.

Night fell.

After character education and personal time, the students plotted their escape for the night.

"Hey, how about tonight?"

"Hell yeah!"

The suggestion to sneak out for drinks lit them up.

Just hearing "booze" made their mouths water.

"What do you say, Yeon-sik?"

"Bad idea, man."

"What?"

"Just a gut feeling. Tonight's not the night. Play it safe, guys."

"Why? Scared of that pretty-boy assistant?"

"We don't even know every nook and cranny yet—you're paranoid."

"Look at this coward."

"Sigh..."

Yeon-sik bristled at the mockery.

'To think I call these idiots friends...'

He sighed.

"Call me whatever. I warned you. Don't blame me if you regret it."

Bedtime roll call passed, lights out—and as planned, the first-years slipped out of the dorms.

Dorm lights went out.

Time for real assistant duties.

I gazed at the bright moon overhead.

Ah, perfect night for reforming some delinquent students.

"Eun Assistant."

"Yes."

"We'll leave it to you. Good luck."

"Thanks."

I sent the senior assistant off and scanned the dorms.

A chuckle escaped me.

I sensed presences sneaking out.

"Whoa, a dog hole right there."

Seo-u Warrior smirked at my words.

"No kidding."

But how could the director not know about that hole? Why leave it?

I'll ask later.

"Shall we catch 'em?"

With Seo-u Warrior and Yeo Eung-am Warrior, I moved out in earnest.

"There they are."

Less than half a gak later, we caught the escapees.

But heading straight would alert them... Better approach via rooftops.

We scaled walls and roofs, spotting them drinking by a classroom.

"What do you think you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doing?"

"Eek!"

"Wh-what?!"

"Mommy!"

Why the over-the-top panic?

Oh, right—makes sense.

They had lookouts while sneaking drinks, but we popped up from the wrong direction entirely.

That aside, discipline is discipline.

"Drinking violates academy rules."

"So what, asshole?!"

"Come on, Assistant—pick your moments for this crap."

"Beat it before we beat you and you cry."

Ah...

Now I got why the senior assistant swung his wooden sword on sight. To shut down this nonsense.

I drew my issued wooden sword with a sigh.

"Truth is, I don't really like violence."

"Kwee?"

A voice from my sleeve—Gold령. Hush.

"Scratch that. I don't swing at people. People get words. But... I've learned something from that."

I smiled thinly.

"Some who look human shouldn't be treated as such. So don't resent me if my hand's heavy. Shape up, and I'll talk instead."

With that, I shot toward them.

Thwack!

.

.

.

My unplanned stint as an assistant was going smoothly enough.

With my schedule heavy in the afternoons, mornings were leisurely.

After breakfast, heading back for tea—

"Director ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠proxy requests you to his office after breakfast."

"Oh? Thanks for letting me know."

I headed straight there. No one outside, so I announced myself.

"Uh..."

"You're here—come in."

The elder knew. I scratched my head and entered.

"You called?"

"Sit."

I took the seat by his desk. He eyed me quietly.

He looked natural in the proxy seat—oddly refreshing.

"Tea?"

"Yes."

He brewed it himself.

The sip tasted like the last batch.

Then—

"They call you 'Heukbaek Musang' among the students lately?"

"Cough cough!"

The sudden line choked me.

"Drink carefully, tsk tsk."

"You sprang that out of nowhere..."

"Why? It's a compliment."

"That's a compliment?"

"Means the students fear you that much."

Heukbaek Musang—the Black-White Impermanences, envoys dragging souls to the afterlife.

"Instructors and assistants sing your praises too."

"Oh... thanks."

"Anyway, I called for a favor."

He handed me a letter. I unfolded it.

"A marriage?"

"Yes. One of a student's sisters is wedding. Policy requires home visits for weddings and funerals."

"I see."

"So take that student along."

I eyed the letter, then spoke.

"Worried they'll use it as an excuse and not come back?"

"People are all the same."

"Got it. But why me? I have classes..."

"What bandit would touch a group with three peak experts? Oh, and I'll cover your classes."

So, free labor from four people via me.

But Elder—this ain't free.

Seok Chu-gil's heart raced.

'Finally! An outing at last!'

The letter about his sister's wedding was a ray of light amid his torment.

"Hey, grab me some of that when you're out."

"Fine, just wait!"

First, booze and tobacco outside.

And...

'I'll tattle everything about this hellhole to my parents!'

His family held sway in Hubei Province.

His doting parents, especially as the youngest, would pull him out for sure.

Time came; he packed and stepped out.

But he froze at the sight.

The Heukbaek Musang assistant stood there.

"Seok Chu-gil?"

"Y-yes."

"Let's go."

"Yes."

Envy from the other students as they left.

"Ha! Fresh air outside this dump!"

The air felt renewed.

His home was three days by carriage. They rode steadily.

Strict oversight throughout—worst was no drinks at inns.

He glared at Eun Seo-ho with hatred.

'Just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you wait! I'll tell Dad everything!'

Imagining Eun Seo-ho groveling before his father soothed him.

I sighed at Seok Chu-gil's smug grin.

His thoughts were transparent.

"We've arrived."

The carriage halted; we disembarked.

A fine tiled manor lay before us.

And the nameplate on the gate.

Huh?

Seok Chu-gil's face and name had rung a bell.

Now I faced a connection from my past life.