Patchwork Guard Duty
School security jobs usually required completing some basic "education course." After about 24 hours of training at a specific facility and getting that completion certificate, only then could you be thrown in as a new guard to handle all sorts of incidents. But...
"Who gives a shit about that for a temp fill-in--!! Just pay daily wages for three days of sick leave coverage--!!"
"Why hire someone for over a month with a labor contract and industry-standard pay when day laborers could patch it?"
The gap Kim Chomo was filling wasn't even a full month—it was just three days, super short-term. No audit was coming during that time anyway, so plug the hole and done, right? Plus, it wasn't like they were guarding state secrets; at most, it was protecting a school. How often did situations really demand pros that they'd shell out for it?
"Our job ain't that big a deal—just log cars coming in properly and nab anyone acting suspicious."
"This feels familiar... like writing military entry logs!? Ah... PTSD kicking in..."
It wasn't like people with overflowing military experience got exemptions without training just 'cause they adapted quick.
"Well, you're only covering from after school until the place fully shuts at ten at night..."
The usual three-shift rotation covered morning-day-night on a cycle. But now one guy was out, and total newbie Kim Chomo had jumped in. Would they stick a rookie in the most grueling spots? Hell no. Morning rush with endless teachers meant any delay could blow gate control wide open.
"You're the temp, right? Night shift's easy 'cause no one's around... but paying 1.5 times to a stranger? Pisses us off."
"Ouch, that discrimination hurts to the bone!"
The lucrative night shift until morning rush—when the most cash flowed in—was rotated. Having newbie Kim Chomo swoop in for a quick grab felt shady.
"So you just check if all the teachers' cars are logged out by ten. That's it."
"Nice, the beauty of temp work."
Kim Chomo grinned wide at the simple rundown—ditch the gear after and head home, done. Then...
"Hey, old man, what're you staring at? First time seeing an e-cig? No butts to toss, so keep it."
"Ah, this is my vitamin stick. Trying to quit, so praise the effort instead of bitching."
"......Fuck. Fine... service jobs are all the same."
Soon enough, Kim Chomo mulled over his own words, face twisting in a scowl. He realized the obvious truth: actual labor intensity and mental strain didn't always match.
Every group had its share of crazies mixed in. Human cells hid potential cancer cells ready to mutate. Even the world's most famous political game had hidden bombs.
So a pretty famous Seoul high school with solid college placement rates—how many potential bombs lurked, quietly waiting to detonate?
"What're you standing there like an idiot for? Go stare at the CCTV and kill time."
The answer: 5-10%. In a class of 30, two or three. And when those three flaunted their bullshit right in front of you?
Expel 'em.
The punks sneaking smokes behind the guard post at the main gate—overlooking that even aesthetics-minded schools ignored unseen spots, leaving grass and weeds wild.
Ssshh...
Even a trickle of fuel was plenty with his bloated internal battery. Enough superhuman strength to drag lazy asses—who didn't even look like they'd worked out—across the ground.
"No smoking anywhere except designated campus spots. Take it outside."
Drag drag...
"Wha—what?! What the hell, assaulting minors...!! That's my stuff! Let go?!"
Grabbing nicotine-spewing steam locomotives by the collar and yeeting them out was iffy, but clinging to that e-cig with desperate faces? Their own damn fault.
Sweaty palms or fading grip strength from the dragged teens—whatever. Crash!!
"Ow! Ah, my head!!"
The e-cig and vitamin stick slipped free, and the kids tumbled back hard from the released force.
"Th-that's mine, you fucking guard prick!! Give it ba—"
Huuuuh...!!
One teen charged back for his precious possession—then miracle hit his eyes.
Whiiirrr...!!
Slicing through air layers like a whistle, the "e-cig" vanished sky-high.
"Pick it up and use it if you find it. Now fuck off and stay out of my sight."
Even rage-blinded punks got the hint by then.
--If that strength slapped our cheeks, we'd be flying too.
Delinquent gender ratio: 100% male. History of "lashing out to climb the pecking order": 100%. When opponent's violence crushed their max output, it became order.
The hierarchy all guys silently set—Kim Chomo quietly claimed the pyramid's peak.
"Haha... haha, yes. We... we'll smoke outside... you're so right...!!"
"S-see ya!! Gotta head home quick..."
"Sorry!! Won't use this as a smoking spot again...!!"
They could only pray those teeth never turned on them.
Dodging the rabid dogs urgently was smart. But fleeing in panic wrecked the face-saving "rep" of these three swaggering teens.
"Fucking hell! That damn head guard prick!!"
"The old guys didn't care, why's the new one such a hardass?!"
The self-loathing from submitting to bigger violence hit harder than expected.
Options boiled down to two: bow to the order, bide time for revenge... or wag tail at the top dog but crush those below to feel superior.
No way they'd pick revenge when heads could fly anytime.
"Hey, you. Get over here."
"...Wha—?!"
Only the latter left. Instant lower-tier bullying to salvage crumpled pride!
Thud! Thud!
"Ow! Ugh! Stop! Stop hitting...!!"
"You little shit, I didn't ask for much?! Just lend some cash!!"
Filling dented superiority by stomping others wasn't rare.
"Think I'm a joke?! Huh?! You too?!"
Usual extortion, where even short cash got a back-of-head smack and release. But today, "no money" grated extra hard for some reason...
Feet already out, too late. Cough... cough cough!!
Diaphragm-punched, glasses kid huddled in pain. Nicotine-withdrawal extortionists checked his wallet—jack shit worth taking. They spat on the ground.
"Tch, fuck. Busted empty... let's go! Mood's ruined."
"Ask a bro for a motorcycle ride today? Tired of the electric scooter."
Higher effort, zero payoff—mood soured. But they were busy too. Ditched the victim, rushed off to finish evening plans.
"...Ugh, uuh... how long? How long do I have to live like this..."
Victim finally uncurled from blocking kicks with arms and legs—only after all left. Even the distant perps, pondering fun evening spots, didn't know.
Nor did they sense the deep, pitch-black something crawling up inside the kid packing his bag through sobs.
"If not for those bastards, I could go to school in peace..."
And that dark something heard every word through formless ears—as the victim wiped his glasses on his dirty uniform shirt.
They knew none of it.
Next day, afternoon.
"Whoa!! One more school day tomorrow, then two straight off!!"
"You happy about that?! My life's legendary—academy on weekends too."
Everyone basked in post-school bliss, hyping the nearing weekend. Bright as the sun, they hustled to next spots.
—Hey, dumbass. Not the time to kick back with feet on the desk.
"...What? This fucking black sheep cursing in my ear now?"
Disheveled-faced Kim Chomo heard the voice spreading inside him.
It hadn't chatted much before—why self-awareness now?
—Power unused so long, went power-save mode. Keep at least 5% charged.
'You a phone? Why the hell's that a feature?!'
The too-realistic reply left him blanking out briefly.
—No time for jokes. Starting to feel it in your eyes and senses too, right?
Among sun-like positive student energy, a creepy vibe seeped in slow.
From the glasses boy glancing around afar—energy haze leaking out.
"Ability user? Nah, not fully yet."
—Yeah, chick pecking shell from inside. 'Pre-hatch' state.
Like newbies in his old ability unit.
"One outside nudge and... he'll get dragged off. Poor kid."
Ex-soldier who'd escaped prayed for the doomed teen's soul. No way the thick shell cracked during his temp gig.
Half-year more, then it'd pop. "What's this power?" to casual use—done. Then unit infamy hits, collapse. All flashed in his head.
Crack!!
"Hey! Told you to come earlier, why you ignoring me, asshole?! Pissing me off since yesterday!"
But chicks hatched via lucky egg-fall or mom-peck too.
Most students gone, relieved glasses boy hurried to gate—yesterday's nicotine extortionists back-smacked him.
"Wanna die?! Huh?! Not sticking around school forever, what's with the balls?!"
"Hiiik...!!"
Unwanted collab for the host body—jackpot internal-external peck for the near-hatch chick.
Grateful for low-IQ perps matching chicken smarts.
Shoooo...
Black-gray haze around him turned misty, then smoke rising skyward.
—Chick declaring birthday. Your move?
"Fuck, gonna lose it. Why me, right now?"
Boom!!
Why did gut feelings always turn real? Kim Chomo kicked the door open and charged.