Ryu Ji-Ho's Defense (2)

At that school, students were only divided into two categories: those who were good at studying and those who were not.

"Are you planning to enter the law faculty?" Student Advisor suddenly asked Ryu Ji-ho.

"I'm not sure yet," Ryu Ji-ho replied calmly.

But the Student Advisor pressed his guiding stick against Ryu Ji-ho's chest as if trying to force an answer out of him.

"If you want to get into the law faculty, you need to study hard," he said in a serious tone.

Ryu Ji-ho felt humiliated by this treatment. He thought it would have been better to be hit on the hand or even on the backside than to be pressured with a guiding stick like this. Such treatment could wound a student's pride.

With great effort, Ryu Ji-ho restrained himself from blurting out the curse words that were almost on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you in the top ten of your class?" the head teacher asked again, his tone even more cutting.

"..."

"Kids like you, even when I try to be nice, always seem to cause trouble at least once," the head teacher muttered before storming out of the broadcasting room in anger.

"Damn it," Ryu Ji-ho muttered under his breath, feeling sick of the whole situation.

Ding-dong-dang!

The bell rang for class at that exact moment. The second-year seniors who had been about to beat up Ryu Ji-ho hurried out of the broadcasting room, eager to avoid further trouble.

"How do you plan to get through school life after this?" Park Sang-eun asked, her face filled with worry.

"I don't know either. My emotions got the better of me back there...," Ryu Ji-ho replied, his voice full of regret.

"Can a teacher go to jail for hitting a student in a case of abuse?" Lee Chul-woong asked, his face brimming with curiosity.

Ryu Ji-ho hesitated, glancing at his friend uncertainly before replying, "I'm not sure... but it's possible."

The rules regarding corporal punishment in schools had undergone significant changes in the late 1990s. Physical punishment began to be banned and was eventually entirely abolished after the law was amended in 2011.

However, back then, reporting such cases often led to even bigger problems for the students involved. Anyone brave enough to speak up might find themselves the target of the teachers' revenge, turning their school life into a nightmare. It wasn't uncommon for students who reported such incidents to be forced to transfer schools or even drop out altogether.

Lee Chul-woong shrugged. "So, you're just talking out of your hat without knowing anything?"

"Students have rights too," Ryu Ji-ho retorted firmly. "It doesn't mean we have to accept being hit without fighting back."

Lee Chul-woong let out a small, mocking laugh. "They were playing heavy metal music. Isn't that reason enough to get hit?"

"Devil's music," added another student, agreeing with Lee Chul-woong's statement.

Kim Seokmin nodded earnestly, while Choi Wonseok, who was sitting in the corner of the room, chimed in with a sneer, "Anyone who likes heavy metal isn't normal."

Their conversation continued, growing more heated and out of control. Finally, Park Sangun, who had been silently watching, spoke up with a commanding voice, "The bell has rung. Get back to your classes."

Reluctantly, his friends began to leave the broadcast room one by one, gingerly holding their backsides, still sore from the punishment they had just endured. As Ryu Ji-ho struggled to stand up, he winced in pain as his pants brushed against the bruised skin of his thigh.

"Ouch!" Ji-ho murmured, trying to suppress the sudden surge of pain.

It was then that he truly realized what had happened. This wasn't just a typical punishment; it was more like an uncontrollable outburst of anger. Ji-ho pondered what exactly he had done wrong to deserve such a severe beating that it left bruises on his thigh.

His thoughts drifted to the vice principal, notorious around the school for his nickname "Mad Dog." The vice principal was known for his vindictive nature and often used his authority to oppress students he disliked. Ji-ho felt certain that after this incident, his life at school would not go smoothly.

****

Throughout that afternoon's lesson, Ryu Ji-ho sat restlessly, trying to ignore the sharp pain from the bruises on his backside. Every slight movement felt like a needle pricking his skin, but he struggled to keep his mind focused on the never-ending lecture. 

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, the first-year students quickly gathered in the broadcasting room. They all knew too well that today's cleaning would need to be more thorough than usual. A sense of unease hung in the air, and they were certain that Ji-ho's actions, deemed excessive, had surely annoyed the second-year seniors.

"I told you to wipe the equipment with a dry cloth! Check behind the console again! Ji-ho, what area are you in charge of?" Park Sang-eun kept scolding, her voice filling the room like an unending storm.

Once the cleaning was done, they stood in a straight line, like soldiers waiting for inspection. Every little move seemed to be watched, as if there were unseen eyes lurking in the corners, scrutinizing their every action.

"You're standing all crooked! Straighten the line!" 

"Broadcasting captain, enough already," Ryu Ji-ho whispered with a tone of desperation.

"You're worse than a nagging mom," someone else muttered.

"I'd rather get hit by the seniors than listen to her nagging again," another student mumbled under his breath, barely audible.

They stood rigid and silent for thirty minutes. Yet, the seniors they were expecting never showed up. Time dragged on, and what began as worry slowly turned into confusion.

"It seems like the seniors aren't coming today. Let's just go and have dinner," someone finally said, breaking the tension.

"But... um, who are you?" Choi Won-seok asked seriously, his eyes fixed on Ryu Ji-ho.

"What? Me?" Ji-ho replied, taken aback.

"Yes, you."

"It's me, Ryu Ji-ho. Who else would it be?" he answered, feeling a bit offended.

"But it doesn't seem like you," Won-seok's words caused Ji-ho's classmates to look at him sharply, as if there was something different about him. Something they could all sense but couldn't fully comprehend.