I woke up after a rare deep sleep.
Normally, I'd be groggily getting ready for school at this hour, but today was an exception.
Thanks to a message from my homeroom teacher last night.
It was a long, rambling text about disappointment and whatnot, telling me to come to school around 5 p.m. when the other students had left. Apparently, we were supposed to have a meeting with the involved parties.
(Hyemin really toned it down for me.)
Humming a tune, I pulled out my phone and opened the chat with Hyemin.
Hyemin: I'm so sorry, Sehwa… I tried to stop it… (omitted)… Only Minwoo's mom is still pushing to sue you…
I tapped into an app and hit the play button, letting the recorded voices of a young man and woman play alternately.
[So, the money might take a bit to send… Sorry]
"Hmm. Thanks to your "orders," I almost got beaten to death with a metal pipe. And because Minwoo pulled a knife and "attacked" me, my palm got sliced up, you know. This all happened because you and Suyoung "orchestrated" it. And now it's hard to give me that small "compensation"?"
[No, that's not… I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd go that far. I've almost stopped the lawsuit, so please wait a bit… ]
It was a recording of yesterday's call with Hyemin. This was the only file I had; the rest were wiped clean.
She kept making excuses about the money, saying she'd pay later, and I got a bad feeling, so I hit record on instinct.
Thinking about it, I didn't have any real leverage over Hyemin. For now, she's obedient, but she could easily flip and pretend she doesn't know anything.
So, I cleverly slipped in all sorts of "situations" and "names" to get her to confess without realizing it. This recording could be a ticking time bomb for her.
She's the daughter of a corporate bigshot, right? If I threatened to leak this online proof she instigated a group assault it'd cause a frenzy. They'd scramble to cover it up.
Illegal recording? Who cares. If it got out, they'd be the ones in trouble. At worst, I'd face a civil lawsuit.
But this is a last resort. Making an enemy of a corporation like that would make my life hell.
(Ugh, I should've recorded back at the warehouse. So stupid.)
I look cold and sharp, like I'd be clever, but I'm honestly kind of an idiot. I scowled at the thought.
If I'd recorded back then, negotiating with that prosecutor lady might've been easier. Instead, I was too busy beating people up like a moron.
It's like I've got a nuke instead of a regular missile. That nuke being the recording of Hyemin's voice.
Anyway, let's game-plan what might happen:
1. Turn on the recorder and counter whatever nonsense the prosecutor lady throws at me.
(If she pulls the "I'm a prosecutor of South Korea" card, that's a jackpot. If I mention her son tried to stab someone, it'll be a show.)
2. She stays eerily calm, says nothing, then leaves the room and starts scheming behind my back to pressure me.
(Worst-case scenario. I'll deal with it for a bit, and if it gets tough, I'll use the nuke.)
She probably knows her son was in the wrong, but since she's still coming to the school threatening a lawsuit, option two seems less likely.
This plan should be solid enough.
Back in middle school and early high school, I was a total delinquent, beating up anyone who came at me, and I never had to deal with crap like this.
Guess Gangnam's full of helicopter moms.
A heavy, oppressive feeling hit my chest, like a boulder pressing down, and I grimaced.
Why?
Why do I have to deal with this inefficient, shitty situation?
There's gotta be an easier way.
But what?
A chilling sensation crawled over my skin, and I clenched my injured palm tightly. The sharp pain cleared my head, shaking off the stray thoughts.
I winced slightly at the sting but managed to pull myself together. Clicking my tongue at the unpleasant feeling, I started getting ready for school.
As I put on my uniform and reached for my arm sleeve, I paused and put it back down. I peeled off the tape on my neck, ditched the uniform, and threw on ripped jeans and a black tee instead.
In the bathroom mirror, my tattoo-covered body screamed "underworld thug," my eyes glinting sharply.
It hit me if the prosecutor saw me like this, she'd probably think, (Of course a punk like him beat up my son), and lose her cool.
An angry person can't think straight and might say something they shouldn't.
I didn't care how the other teachers saw me. They weren't going to stop the lawsuit, were they? If anything, I'd rather get suspended and focus on work.
I ran my hand over the fox tattoo on my neck, smirked with satisfaction, turned on my phone's recorder, and left the house.
If I left now, I'd arrive right at 5 p.m.
Shielding my eyes from the blazing sun, I grinned and headed toward school.
I had a good feeling about this.
---
__
A massive frame hung on the wall with a glass window, showcasing an expensive-looking painting that hinted at the owner's wealth.
Of course, much of that wealth came from students like Hyemin and Sooyoung, but that didn't matter.
In front of a desk with the principal's nameplate, a rectangular table sat in the center, surrounded by several sofas.
The principal was nowhere to be seen. Instead, impeccably dressed parents sat on the sofas, calmly waiting for someone.
Originally, only Minwoo's mother was supposed to come, but the other parents, eager to see the guy who messed up their sons, had filled the room.
Even though Hyemin's mother had convinced them to drop the issue, Minwoo's mother had called them again, stirring up doubts.
And then.
Hyemin and Suyoung, standing in a corner as "initial witnesses," were questioned by one of the teachers seated nearby.
"Ahem. When's Sehwa getting here? Don't you guys keep in touch with him?"
"No idea…"
Hyemin answered, glancing at Minho, who was nervously biting his nails. She scoffed. (Where was all that bravado when you were tearing into Sehwa?)
But it made sense.
Thanks to Hyemin's groundwork, the parents were already wary of Sehwa's supposed "backing," and the teachers, while unaware of specifics, had picked up on the parents' cautious demeanor and were acting polite. Everyone was free to think what they wanted.
Their imaginations were likely useless anyway.
Hyemin's mother shot her a sharp look, catching the smirk creeping onto her face. Hyemin quickly bowed her head to hide it.
The clock's second hand ticked past 5 p.m.
*This guy's still taking his sweet time,* Hyemin thought, just as the door slid open. All eyes turned to the tall figure stepping in.
Some parents gasped and looked away; others sent hostile glances but stayed silent.
Ripped jeans, a plain black tee, and tattoos fully exposed, Sehwa exuded a dark aura. Hyemin smirked secretly.
"Running a bit late, huh? I thought only the prosecutor lady was coming?"
Sehwa asked with a relaxed smile, sitting on the sofa reserved for him and his guardian, crossing his long legs and glancing at Hyemin as if to say, (What's going on?)
Hyemin, licking her lips subtly, sent him a look that said, (I didn't expect this either, sorry.)
Sehwa shrugged lightly and leaned back into the sofa.
"You're here? Minwoo's mom hasn't arrived yet," the homeroom teacher said.
"Really? That's too bad. She's the reason everyone's here, and she's late?"
Sehwa yawned, sounding annoyed, acting like he owned the room. Some parents frowned but didn't dare speak up.
His provocative demeanor was obvious, practically begging someone to challenge him.
Hyemin felt a thrill watching him. Imagining that languid face begging her for help, eyes glistening with tears, made her body react involuntarily.
"Sehwa, no one else is coming with you?"
"Why ask when you know?"
Hyemin asked with fake concern, and Sehwa responded with exaggerated loneliness in his eyes.
The room stirred slightly.
The parents, already thrown off by his dramatic entrance, stared at the lone boy. They'd expected a suited-up woman to walk in with him, not this.
Suspicion flickered in their eyes, some turning to Hyemin, who inwardly cheered.
The clock ticked past 5:30 p.m.
"When's that prosecutor showing up?"
Sehwa, sounding bored and slightly irritated, prompted a cautious response from the homeroom teacher.
"Sehwa, you should still mind your manners."
"No need to play nice with someone I won't see again."
His dismissive words made the teacher's eyes narrow, about to retort, when—
*Ring ring!*
A cheerful phone ringtone cut through the room, silencing her.
All eyes turned to Minwoo's homeroom teacher, who fumbled in her pocket and apologized.
"Sorry, I called the prosecutor's office since Minwoo's mom was so late. Her husband hasn't been answering either…"
She bowed again, taking the call cautiously.
"Hello? Yes, the prosecutor said she was heading to Seoul today? She hasn't arrived yet… Thank you. Yes—"
"Is Minwoo's father still not answering?"
A sharply dressed woman in a skirt asked, and the teacher shook her head, explaining. Meanwhile, Sehwa, looking sleepy, propped his chin on his hand, pretending to be lost in thought.
Hyemin stared at his sensual pose, her heart racing with impatience.
*Hurry up.*
She wanted to see the prosecutor pressure Sehwa, watch him act tough and throw around legal jargon.
And then, when she or her equally competitive mother sided with the prosecutor and parents to drag Sehwa to court, she'd swoop in, pretending to help, only to break him completely body and soul.
As Sehwa unknowingly exposed his pale neck, Hyemin swallowed hard, her throat dry.
Minwoo's homeroom teacher apologized to the room again.
"It's almost 6 p.m. I'll try contacting her husband again."
"What about the kid?"
"Him? He's in the hospital. Even if he knows something, he's in no state to talk. His teeth are…"
A woman in a suit asked, and the teacher hesitated, trailing off. The woman, understanding the implication, shut her mouth.
The teacher dialed again, but as her expression worsened with each unanswered ring—
"Hello? Oh, yes, Minwoo's father! I'm the homeroom… What?"
Her eyes widened, and she shot up, pacing frantically. Hyemin and the others stared at her curiously.
"Sir… please, calm down. Yes, slowly… Okay. I'll call back later. Please take care… Yes."
She hung up, trudging back to her seat, her legs wobbling as if drained.
"What happened?"
"Teacher, explain! We've been here for an hour. I have another appointment!"
The frustrated parents' complaints bombarded her.
She closed her eyes tightly, then spoke quietly, her face grim.
"…We'll have to proceed as is. Minwoo's mother… she won't be coming."
"What? She's the whole reason we're here. Why not?"
A middle-aged man, exasperated, snapped, but fell silent at her next words.
"There was a car accident… She passed away."
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Translated by Reversalmanhwa.web.id
/ Reversalnovel.web.id