“Fuck, Kwon Sejin’s lost his mind!”
Sejin had no intention of letting it slide—not today, not ever—when someone insulted the mother who scrubbed dishes till her fingertips blistered just to pay off debt. Blinded by rage, he swung the tray in his hand and struck Lee Haegyun.
“Hey!!”
Chaos exploded in the cafeteria. Haegyun and his lackey, Kim Byungjun, lunged at Sejin, who retaliated by swinging the tray at them like a weapon.
“There’s a fight in the cafeteria!!”
High school boys, blood boiling, shouted with excitement. The lunch ladies prepping ingredients for the next day’s meals heard the commotion and came rushing out. When they saw two big bodies beating down on Sejin, they screamed and ran toward the scene.
“Cut it out! What the hell do you think you’re doing at school?!”
“You little bastards! Hey! I said stop!”
The faculty lunchroom was right next to the student cafeteria. The student affairs teacher, in the middle of a late lunch, bolted out at the sound of screams. Students on their way to the snack shop glued themselves to the windows to watch. In the middle of all this, Sejin still didn’t let go of the tray. Thunk, thunk—the stainless steel bent from the force of the repeated blows he delivered to Haegyun.
“Argh!”
“You fucking asshole! Fuck!”
Kim Byungjun, circling behind, tackled Sejin to the ground. Haegyun didn’t miss the chance—he kicked him hard. Even as the blows landed, Sejin didn’t make a sound. He just swung his arms. The sharp edge of the tray clipped their ankles as it flailed through the air. When Haegyun collapsed from the pain, Sejin slammed the flat side of the tray into his face. With a sharp clang, Haegyun’s lip split. Enraged, he threw a punch back at Sejin.
“You little shits! I said STOP! Are you deaf?!”
“Lee Haegyun! Kim Byungjun! You two bastards, OUTSIDE! NOW!”
Even the vice principal joined in now, trying to pull them apart—but it wasn’t easy. Sejin had lost it after hearing someone insult his mother. Haegyun, bleeding from being hit by someone smaller than him, was fuming with shame.
It took the full force of every male teacher on staff to drag the two boys apart. By the time they were separated, panting, both looked like disasters. Haegyun was drenched in soup from the overturned trays, and the teachers who grabbed him were soaked in it too, reeking of dried pollack broth.
Sejin didn’t look much better. His leg was limping from a kick, and his cheek was swollen red from Haegyun’s punch—but even now, he still hadn’t let go of the tray. The student affairs teacher tried to wrest it from him, but gave up and sighed. Sejin held onto it like it was a shield, a weapon that had saved his life.
“You punks—you think this is a fucking playground?! Huh?! The hell are you doing starting a fight right before break?! You wanna throw your lives away?! You know how fast this’ll end up on the news if someone screams ‘school violence’ these days?! You’re almost seniors, for fuck’s sake!”
The vice principal, face flushed red, jabbed a finger in the air as he yelled. He was retiring at the end of the semester and clearly didn’t care why the fight had started. He just didn’t want his retirement party to get stained by a school violence scandal.
The gawking students began to disperse, one by one, under the barrage of his yelling. But the two instigators were still burning hot. Sejin stared Haegyun down, ignoring the scolding entirely. Haegyun spat blood from his torn lip and mouthed a word back at him.
Whore.
Sejin read it loud and clear—and shot to his feet, brushing off the teacher trying to restrain him.
“Hey! Kwon Sejin! Hey, you—!”
“You fucking son of a bitch!”
Haegyun leapt forward too, like he’d been waiting. The teachers, thinking the fight was over, were caught off guard. Now they had to throw themselves in again to stop the two boys. It was a disaster.
***
“Sejin.”
“……”
“Kwon Sejin.”
“……”
With no reply, Seobo Hyung, the homeroom teacher of Class 2-3, sighed in exasperation.
It had already been an hour since the cafeteria brawl. And Sejin, dragged to the counseling office like a prisoner of war by the P.E. teacher, hadn’t said a single word the whole time. Seobo Hyung, now responsible for contacting his parents, was about to lose his mind.
If it had just been a typical scuffle, they could’ve made the boys apologize and moved on. But Lee Haegyun, who got beaten with a tray, was now threatening to report Sejin to the School Violence Committee. Parents had already been contacted.
And while the parents of the other two boys were on their way, Sejin still hadn’t said a word. The phone numbers listed under his parents in the school records both came up as out of service, so they had no choice but to ask Sejin directly. That meant Seobo had been calling his name for over an hour now.
“Sejin. If you keep this up, you’re going to be in real trouble. Haegyun’s parents are already threatening to call the police. If you hit someone with something like a tray, it’s considered aggravated assault. That’s a much heavier charge.”
He kept talking, saying whatever came to mind, hoping to get Sejin to open up. Maybe if he scared him a little, the kid would at least give them a contact number.
Bzzz, bzzz. Seobo’s phone kept lighting up with messages. The vice principal, desperate to avoid a school violence case during his final days, was blowing up his phone with instructions to resolve this “peacefully.” After checking the preview, Seobo let out a long, annoyed sigh and sat down across from Sejin. Read this novel at novelping(.)com for the best experience.
Kwon Sejin was a quiet kid, almost invisible. He came to school but mostly just showed up for meals. Never caused trouble. Seobo had long been aware that Lee Haegyun had taken a particular interest in him.
But the era of strong teacher authority was long gone. Seobo had no power over boys two heads taller than him. When Haegyun and Byungjun started acting out, turning a blind eye seemed easier. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to anything serious.
“Haegyun says you started it. Is that true?”
“……”
Sejin’s chapped lips stayed clamped shut. One cheek was bruised purple. Eyes down, he didn’t move. His face—one Seobo used to think looked better than some idols’—now just looked hostile, like it was carved from ice. Holding back a groan, Seobo forced himself to stay calm, speaking softly.
“You were the first to throw a punch. And you used a tray. Sejin, this isn’t something that can just be brushed off. It’s aggravated assault. You started it—so now Haegyun and Byungjun are saying they’re going to press charges. You could end up in juvie. You’re not a little kid anymore. If there’s no settlement, you could be sent to a youth detention center.”
In truth, it was unlikely he’d end up in juvenile hall for something like this, even with the tray. But Seobo kept piling it on, trying to scare him. If he could just get the kid to give a guardian’s contact, that’d be enough.
Putting on a serious face, he went on.
“Do you want to be a criminal? Your mom—she really cared about you when I met her at the start of the year. If you go to jail, how do you think she’s going to sleep at night?”
“…He started it.”
Finally, Sejin spoke. His husky, cracked voice made clear that he wasn’t the cause of the fight. Seobo didn’t even care what he said—the fact he said anything almost made him cheer.
“Who? You mean Haegyun? Haegyun and Byungjun said you hit first. Are you saying they did?”
“I hit first, but they were the ones who…”
Muttering quietly, Sejin trailed off. But they what? Seobo’s frustration flared again, and he resisted the urge to smack his own chest. He forced a smile, even managed a dimple, and nodded like he understood everything.
“Haegyun and Byungjun have always picked on you a bit, huh? But still, between friends—”
“It wasn’t picking on. Lee Haegyun…!”
“Yeah? Haegyun?”
“Lee Haegyun…”
“Yes?”
Sejin, who had been shouting with eyes rimmed red in frustration, suddenly went quiet again. What is he, a clam or something? Seobo Hyung let out a sigh laced with irritation, the back of his neck beginning to throb. Sejin looked up at him with a frightened gaze, then quickly turned his eyes away. His lashes trembled, eyes glistening with tears that looked ready to fall as he stared out the window and asked,
“What happens if I don’t say anything?”
“What?”
“I mean… what happens if I don’t tell you my guardian’s contact?”
“……”
For a split second, Seobo wondered if maybe Sejin’s parents had died without anyone telling him. But he’d never gotten such news, and judging by Sejin’s attitude, it didn’t seem like there was any tragic backstory like that. No, this was just—
“Even if my mom found out, she couldn’t afford a settlement anyway. We don’t have that kind of money. So I… can’t call her.”
“…Is that so.”
“But if I get taken to the police station… will they find her? Will they contact her and tell her I’m going to juvie because I hit someone?”
Seobo narrowed his eyes and stared at Sejin, who was trembling, fists clenched in his lap. It became clear: Kwon Sejin wasn’t staying silent because he didn’t know the number. He was scared. Scared of someone contacting his mother.
After a pause, Seobo finally spoke, hesitating a little.
“Of course they’ll tell her. A minor going to juvie—your mother has the right to know.”
It was a complete lie. There was no way Sejin would be sent to juvenile detention for this, and even if he were to be reported, the police wouldn’t go out of their way to track down a parent just to relay the news. All of this would end up as something Sejin had to shoulder alone.
But messages from the vice principal were still flooding in, and Seobo, already preoccupied with wedding preparations, didn’t have the energy to deal with a school violence hearing or anything of the sort. Whatever Haegyun had done, Sejin had still hit him with a tray. He wasn’t blameless. Seobo figured it was a mutual assault, maybe leaning a little more against Sejin for throwing the first hit, and decided to scare him into cooperating.
“Wouldn’t it be better for your mom to come and deal with this, instead of finding out later that her son ended up in juvie without her knowing a thing? Sejin, getting scolded is temporary, but your future—that’s what matters. Don’t you agree?”
Seobo coaxed him in a soft, gentle tone.
Sejin didn’t respond right away. He chewed his lips until they bled, buried his face in both hands and sighed, then finally looked up with an anxious expression. New chapters come out on novelping(.)com first.
“It’s not my mom…”
And with that, he gave him an eleven-digit phone number. Seobo immediately dialed it—and a young man picked up.
***
Sejin sat in the counseling room, face tight with anxiety. After calling Cheon Sejoo, Seobo had stepped out and never returned. Sejin could’ve called to ask whether Sejoo had received the teacher’s message—but he didn’t. He was afraid of what the man might say.
I’m so fucking stupid. Sejin dropped his forehead onto the desk. His skin, now hotter than that morning, throbbed. The aftermath of the fight was only now hitting him—dizziness, aches, full-body pain. He let out a sigh and shut his eyes.
There’s no way I’ll go to juvie… right? Haegyun might’ve gotten hit with a tray, but he was still walking. His lip was torn, sure—but Sejin had one too. And if they stripped their clothes off, Sejin was sure he had twice, three times as many bruises as either of them.
But he had thrown the first hit. And not even with his fist—with a tray. He tried to recall something he once saw on TV, about how hitting someone with a weapon instead of your fist could be charged as aggravated assault. He groaned. No way… right? But what if…
How did he know about my mom? Sejin thought back to the landlord who’d seen her being dragged into the van, face pale, sandwiched between two goons. That bastard had a filthy mouth. Everyone in the neighborhood knew the two of them were living in a moldy basement room for 350,000 won a month. So of course he’d gone around blabbing about her being taken by loan sharks. At some point that story must’ve reached Haegyun’s ears. Fucking scumbag…
At least Mom hadn’t heard what they were saying. That was a relief. She was working proudly in the kitchen at Ihwagak now. If she’d heard someone call her a whore, she would’ve been devastated. Sejin kept his forehead pressed to the desk, thinking about her for a long time. Even though he was the one about to be dragged to the police, all he could think about was his mother, sweating and working hard far away in Gyeonggi-do.
Do you even use your brain? A voice popped into his head and made him scowl. He suddenly sat up, resting his flushed, fever-hot cheek on his palm as he stared at the door.
He couldn’t bear the thought of that hardworking woman getting a call like, “Your son assaulted a classmate with a tray. Come down and apologize on your knees.” That’s why he gave Sejoo’s number to the teacher. He didn’t expect Sejoo to actually show up. He just figured they needed some adult the teacher could get in touch with.
His homeroom teacher talked about juvie, but realistically—there was no way he’d actually end up there. He thought of the man who used to beat him and his mother to a pulp and still only got a warning at the police station. So if Sejoo just picked up and said “whatever, not my problem,” that’d be enough. Haegyun’s parents might talk big about school violence hearings, but would the police really take this kind of minor fight seriously? Sejin repeated that to himself like a mantra.
“……”
But suddenly, anxiety surged. He bit his lip and kept glancing at the door, trembling one aching leg.
But… I hit him with a tray. What if they really do take me to the police? What if Haegyun’s parents are lawyers? Or filthy rich? Now that he thought about it, Haegyun did always wear nice clothes. Sejin didn’t know brands, but Kim Byungjun, whose mom was a doctor, used to gawk at whatever Haegyun wore. If some rich kid’s family really wanted to, locking up someone like him probably wouldn’t take much.
Sejin broke into a cold sweat, letting out a shaky breath. Fuck… Now he was starting to regret hitting them with the tray. Not starting the fight—no. If someone said that kind of shit about his mom and he didn’t retaliate, he’d probably rise from the grave just to avenge it. But part of him was scared the fight might end up hurting her more in the end.
No. I have to apologize. Now. Sejin finally couldn’t take it anymore and got to his feet. He had no money to offer for a settlement. But since both sides had thrown punches, maybe they could just count the hospital bills as even. Still, he struck first—so he had to apologize. If Haegyun wanted him to kneel, he would. Sejin wasn’t the type to get hung up on pride.
He was limping toward the door when it opened—and someone stepped in. Startled, Sejin looked up, sensing a familiar scent. Standing there in a suit was Cheon Sejoo, wearing a cold, hard expression.
“……”
“……”
They stared at each other in silence. Sejin was stunned—he hadn’t expected him to come. Sejoo looked, at a glance, simply angry. He was the one who broke the silence first.
“Where are you going?”
His voice was sharp, like how dare you start this shit and try to sneak off now. Caught off guard, Sejin shrank a little and replied in a meek voice.
“To apologize to Lee Haegyun…”
“Why the hell would you apologize. Get back in there.”
Not even waiting to hear more, Sejoo cut him off, turned Sejin around by the shoulders, and walked him back inside. Sejin, dazed, let himself be guided. The man pushed him into the chair, hand pressing down on his shoulder. No sooner had Sejin sat down than—swish—the wheeled chair spun.
Startled, Sejin was about to ask What are you doing? when Sejoo knelt on one knee and carefully grasped his ankle. It was the left one—the one Sejin had been limping on. The cool fingertips against his feverish skin made the muscle twitch. Sejin curled his toes and stared dumbly at the crown of the man’s head.
“Does it hurt?”
Sejoo rotated his ankle gently, his voice icy and taut. When it hurt, Sejin just let out a quiet yeah… and looked at him—this man who had appeared so suddenly.
He looked different from this morning. No—he looked different from ever before. His hair was slicked back, shirt buttoned to the top, tie a deep navy. A crisp, clean outfit Sejin had never seen him wear. Somehow, it made him feel strange—like he was looking at someone else entirely.
“Ligament’s out.”
He made the diagnosis like a doctor, but Sejin didn’t have the energy to snap back with what do you even know. Sejoo lifted the pant leg to check his calf. The bruises were everywhere—dark and vivid over his smooth, lean skin. Sejin didn’t notice how cold Sejoo’s eyes had become as he stared. Instead, he mumbled the question that had been stuck in his chest.
“…Why did you come?”
“……”
Sejoo raised one brow, looking up at him. His face, always striking, looked colder than usual—and not in a good mood. Only then did Sejin remember the fight they'd had that morning. He had told him to stop caring, told him to just leave him alone. And now the teacher had called… It must’ve been a real slap in the face.
But why did he come, then? He could’ve just hung up and said it wasn’t his business.
“…Why did you come?”