Report the Crime — No Mercy
The slap landed so abruptly that not only did Bo-ra freeze in shock, but so did Ji-hoon.
A sharp sound had slipped out past the door of the office, and the low murmur of the crowd beyond it fell silent in an instant.
In the space where everyone held their breath and a heavy stillness settled, I-eum spoke.
“You must have been thrilled, thinking you'd ruined my life.”
I-eum was no longer bent and aching under despair. Her voice was calm—and somehow, because of that, it sounded all the stronger, all the more forceful.
“Well, I'm going to succeed because of you.”
“Wha…….”
“I've decided I will.”
Because I have no intention of living the way someone like you wants me to.
I-eum pulled her gaze away from Bo-ra, who stood trembling as she clutched her stinging cheek, and turned calmly back to Ji-hoon.
“Teacher. Please report this to the police. There will be no leniency.”
After school, the Board Chairman's Office—scoured moments ago by utter chaos—sat in silence.
Bo-ra's mother, Kim Ju-yeon, had come rushing over, and Ji-hoon laid out Bo-ra's crime in front of the gathered faculty and Ju-yeon alike.
Bo-ra did nothing but cry. No admission of guilt, no apology—not even a feeble excuse.
Thanks to that, the school violence committee was convened quickly, and it was agreed that the police investigation would proceed after the school had handed down its decision.
I-eum was present for all of it.
Ji-hoon asked her, “Not tired?”
She shook her head without a word. Watching her from across the room, catching sidelong glances of a girl who seemed lost in thought, Ji-hoon finally decided he couldn't keep a student at school this late, and straightened up in his seat.
“Teacher.”
But I-eum's mouth opened first.
“How did you know? I never said a word about it……”
“Adults just know these things.”
At that, a bitter smile tugged at the corner of I-eum's lips.
So that's how it was. That means Chang-shin and Ju-yeon were just pretending not to know all this time. They knew perfectly well.
But she soon drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin with a sudden brightness.
“I'm going to be fine now!”
Ji-hoon arched an eyebrow at this sudden resurgence of energy.
“I've made up my mind!”
“All right. Let's talk calmly.”
“I'm going to retake the CSAT. And I'm going to get a perfect score! And……”
I-eum's big black eyes sparkled like a baby chick's as she smiled with pride.
“I'm going to work at our school. I want to become a teacher like you.”
It was the first goal she had ever set for herself. It carried a weight that was anything but light for I-eum, yet Ji-hoon was at a momentary loss for words.
“I'm not a teacher.”
“I know. But what can I do? I still want to be a teacher like you.”
“Suit yourself.”
At that, I-eum clenched both fists triumphantly, as though she'd already achieved the goal.
There was no telling how anyone recovered that fast, but Ji-hoon was simply relieved that I-eum turned out to be surprisingly simple-minded. He rose from his seat.
“Let's go home now.”
“I don't want to go.”
But I-eum refused.
He understood that after the scene she'd just endured, she wanted nothing to do with her family. Even so, there was nowhere else to send her.
“Don't tell me you're planning to sleep at school.”
“Let me stay just one night.”
“School is not a lodging facility.”
“Then your place, Teacher.”
At the audacious demand, Ji-hoon let out a breathless, incredulous laugh.
“If I take you home, I'm the one who ends up in handcuffs.”
“I won't report you.”
“Enough. Get up.”
“Fineee.”
I-eum dragged her feet as she rose, feigning reluctance, her words trailing three beats too slow. But Ji-hoon pretended not to notice and turned his back first.
Still, he was troubled. Sending a child back home when she'd been the victim of abuse at home left an uneasy feeling in his chest.
“Teacher. What are you going to do if I get a perfect score on next year's CSAT?”
Apparently I-eum's mind never stopped working, even on the walk to the parking lot.
“What do you mean, what? I'll congratulate you.”
“Marry me.”
“Who do you think you are, a prince? Proposing every chance you get.”
Push it too hard and people get tired of you.
At that single remark, I-eum's eyes went round as saucers, as though something catastrophic had just occurred.
“You'd get tired of me?”
“I'm just saying. Where does 'tired' even come in, between teacher and student?”
“But you and I aren't teacher and student.”
“Then what are we?”
“Future wife and husband.”
She's unbelievable.
But because he knew all too well how long and grueling this single day had been for her, Ji-hoon swallowed the sharp retort.
“Next year, I'll find a way to hold on too. So……”
Ji-hoon cast a brief glance at I-eum as she rambled on under her breath.
She probably won't manage it. Not on her own strength alone.
Not long ago, Min-jae had passed along news that Yeon Ho-nam had gone to Assemblyman Park's home for a private meeting. He couldn't know what had been discussed, but it was easy enough to predict that Yeon Ho-nam had no intention of giving up on Park.
When Ji-hoon offered no reply, I-eum stole a glance at him and fell quiet as well.
Teacher must have a lot on his mind too.
She had felt the weight of Ji-hoon's power once more today.
What he'd done for her against Koo Sung-joon was nothing, in comparison.
He silenced the blustering Yeon Bo-ra without her managing a word, made her stepmother Kim Ju-yeon bow her head like a criminal, and stood there declaring not only disciplinary action but criminal charges—while not a single person in the room dared raise an objection.
Ji-hoon did with ease all the things I-eum never could have managed on her own.
Before long, they reached his car. It came after I-eum had thrown a fit and forced him to make a full lap around the darkened campus.
When he opened the passenger door, a neatly folded pink blanket greeted her.
“Huh? Isn't this mine?”
“No. It's mine.”
This blanket. With the rabbit on it?
And the fact that it had been placed in the passenger seat, of all places—he'd gone beyond merely turning on the heated seats; he'd clearly been worried her legs would get cold on the ride.
“It looks exactly like the ones they sell at the school store.”
“I picked it up. Someone threw it away.”
It was a conversation of sword and shield, but I-eum, already in high spirits, giggled anyway. Ji-hoon, whose shield had been cleanly pierced, froze his expression into something awkward.
Wrapped snugly in the blanket, I-eum watched the familiar scenery slide past the window and thought.
I've decided.
She couldn't leave Ji-hoon to struggle alone any longer. It was time to act on what she'd only been thinking about until now.
By the time she'd made up her mind, they had arrived at her building. She bade him a brisk, cheerful goodbye so he wouldn't worry any further.
“Thank you for walking me home!”
“Sure. Go on in.”
Ji-hoon kept his eyes elsewhere, wary of whatever unpredictable stunt she might pull next.
And sure enough, I-eum—who was never going to get out in one go—whirled back around to face him, eyes shining.
“Teacher. Just trust me.”
“Where's this coming from?”
“I'll repay this debt. I swear it.”
And when she bowed her head once more, Ji-hoon's uneasy gaze lingered on her.
Even as she stepped into the apartment building, I-eum kept turning back every few steps to wave at him.
“Get home safe!”
And Ji-hoon couldn't take his eyes off her either—off the girl who didn't lower her hand until she'd disappeared inside.
No, he couldn't take them off her.
Strange, this feeling. With a faint frown, Ji-hoon rested his hand over the heavy, drumming beat of his own heart.
Meanwhile, I-eum slipped quietly out of her shoes as she entered the house.
The inside was as silent as a temple. Even as she set down her bag and changed her clothes, not a single member of the family came to her room.
Only when she stepped out into the living room to wash up did she finally see it: the vast, empty space, devoid of anyone at all.
Actually, this works out even better.
She could put her plan into motion faster than expected.
Before heading to the bathroom, she made for her father Yeon Chang-shin's study first.
Chang-shin, who was less a schoolteacher than an errand boy for her grandfather Yeon Ho-nam, held the contact information of countless people. And I-eum knew perfectly well that he kept those files on the laptop in his study.
There was a phone number she needed to find out.
Powering on the laptop in the dark, she scanned the sounds beyond the door as she waited for it to boot. A moment later the Windows password prompt appeared, and she typed in the number with practiced ease.
The date her grandfather was first elected to the National Assembly.
“There we go.”
Just as she'd suspected, the lock came undone.
Chang-shin had a habit of gathering his most-used files right on his desktop. Finding the one labeled “Contacts” was no trouble at all.
I-eum swallowed dryly and clicked the file open, typing the name she was looking for into the search bar, letter by letter—
Beep. Beep-beep.
From the entryway far away, the sound of fingers punching in the door lock code.