Chapter 6

EP 1 – Cause of Death

Fifth-grade student Moon In-seop went to school.

As soon as he arrived, it turned out to be the winter break ceremony.

It was only natural since it was the day after Christmas.

He thought it would be difficult to adapt to school life, but at least it was fortunate. He couldn't even remember where his seat was...

Fortunately, thanks to the kind note left by his friends at his seat, he was able to find it quickly.

The note read as follows:

"Oh, right."

I was a social outcast.

* * *

Woon Chung-jae, the director of Saebitneulbom Orphanage, had the philosophy of raising the orphans like his own children.

Therefore, he passed on the family name and generational name to the children he could name.

The problem was that the generational name was "Seob."

"Seob" is a word that sounds very old-fashioned to the MZ generation.

That's how I became "Seob-seob" at school.

When a famous drama's catchphrase "I feel so sad" became a hit, I don't even want to think about how I was treated.

Of course, the real reason those kids bullied me wasn't because of my name but because I was from an orphanage...

Anyway, I hated the character "Seob" to the core.

"Ah, it's winter break now? Seob-seob, you must feel sad not seeing us anymore, right?"

"Or do you feel good not seeing us?"

"If we end up in the same class next year, it'll be so funny."

Children without parents are not protected.

Unprotected beings are weak, and weak beings are lowly. It's a natural law known even to animals. Since humans are also animals, it has been so for thousands of years.

However, that traditional perception is not the only reason orphans are bullied.

Orphans know that they are likely to become victims of bullying.

They also know from experience that adults won't stand up for them.

Therefore, orphans protect other orphans.

Whether it's themselves or others.

The means are usually violence.

This is why most parents advise their children not to associate with "that kid."

Anyway.

When an orphan from the same orphanage is bullied, the others would rush over to beat up the bully. This is our social safety net.

But I was a child who had fallen out of that safety net.

If I had to give a reason, it was because I had terrible luck.

When we drew lots to decide which elementary school to attend, I was the only one who ended up at a school a bit farther away.

If I had asked for help from my surroundings, the situation might have improved a bit, but I had a somewhat sensitive personality from a young age.

I lacked the confidence to actively ask adults for help, felt ashamed of being bullied, and after being rejected once when I mustered the courage to ask for help, I couldn't bring myself to speak up again.

Also, my introverted personality made me spend my childhood feeling "Huh, my situation is so pitiful. I'm so lonely..." rather than confronting the bullies with "Hey, why are you bullying me? This is wrong, isn't it?"

In fact, it could have been easily resolved with the help of the education office or human rights organizations. (The school police officer is too close to the teachers to be trusted.)

But an opportunity to correct that mistake came.

I decided to act immediately.

The target was the three padded jacket-wearing bullies surrounding me.

"Hey, kids. Bullying someone isn't a good thing. I have feelings too. Can you stop this kind of mean pranks now?"

My firm words made the three padded jacket-wearing bullies fall silent in surprise.

The one in the red jacket, who seemed to be the leader, thought for a moment and replied.

"What the hell."

"What?"

"What the hell, mom."

As I stood there with a blank expression, the blue and white jacket-wearing bullies, who seemed to be the left and right hands of the red jacket, burst into laughter.

"Ha ha ha!"

"Hey! Stop bullying someone who isn't here!"

"What are you talking about? I said 'What the hell, TV.'"

"Oh, so it's a joke. Got it. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it."

The three kids in red, blue, and white jackets repeated "What the hell" so quickly that it sounded like "What the hell, TV."

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell.

The three-part chorus of "What the hell" made me lose my mind.

Middle school bullying is aggressive, and high school bullying is covert, but elementary school bullying is very overt due to the lack of social experience.

Not knowing how to respond, I stood there dumbfounded, and the red jacket kid laughed and mocked me.

"Ah, is In-seop sad?"

"He's upset. He's upset."

"Is Seob-seob upset? Upset?"

Then,

a sudden punch hit my chest.

"Oof!"

"Is Seob-seob sad?"

"Don't pretend to be in pain! Bastard!"

As I clutched my stomach and writhed on the ground like a worm, the kids surrounded me and laughed.

Only then did I realize that no matter what I said to these kids, it wouldn't make a difference.

Fortunately, it was before the first class started. The homeroom teacher would be in the staff room.

I quickly fled the classroom and ran to the staff room.

I soon found the homeroom teacher, who was typing on a computer with a flushed face.

I remembered his face vaguely, though I had forgotten his name. He was probably the English teacher.

"Teacher."

"Ah... In-seop? What is it?"

"I was hit by some kids in my class."

"Ah..."

The homeroom teacher's expression was more like that of a civil servant receiving a difficult complaint than someone who was surprised.

It was more a feeling of being troubled than annoyed.

He sighed and said my name.

"In-seop..."

"Yes, teacher."

"Well... I'll give a stern talk during the morning assembly. Go back to your class for now."

"......What?"

"I'll have a counseling session with you after school."

Let's see.

The homeroom teacher proposed a specific solution to the complaint.

He decided to announce a ban on school bullying during the morning assembly and promised to have a counseling session with the complainant later.

If I were younger, I might have accepted this and gone back to my class.

But the outcome would be obvious.

First, the homeroom teacher would give a stern lecture during the morning assembly, saying, "I've heard there's bullying in the class. If you get caught, you'll be in big trouble, so everyone be nice to each other."

Then he would leave for another class, and I would be hit and called names until the end of the school day.

After school, the homeroom teacher would say he had something urgent and postpone the counseling until after winter break.

And if things were smoothed over a bit more, the kids would become sixth graders, and the homeroom teacher would be off the hook.

Good grief.

What kind of hell was Korea 10 years ago?

"Teacher, it wasn't just a light hit. I was hit quite seriously. I also faced verbal abuse. You know my family situation, right?"

"Right. In-seop... I understand. I'll talk to them firmly."

"Can't we have a school bullying committee meeting?"

"What? School bullying committee? We'll talk about that after the counseling."

Ah, now I understand the homeroom teacher's mindset.

I know Korean teachers have a tough job. The decline in teacher authority must be very stressful.

But I have rights too.

If my rights keep being ignored, I have no choice but to become a bully myself.

"Hey, homeroom teacher –!!!"

"W-What...!"

The roar that suddenly erupted in the staff room drew everyone's attention.

The homeroom teacher was startled, and even the vice principal, who was far away in the corner, was watching to see what was happening.

I protested loudly.

"I don't have parents, and I'm a student from the facility, but that doesn't mean I should be called an orphan, right?"

"Hey...! What are you shouting about...! Be quiet...?!"

"I just got hit hard enough to bruise. And you're not going to do anything? If a student hits another student, there should be some action taken, right?"

"Alright...! I get it...! Let's talk outside the staff room...! Okay...!?"

"Then, please be clear! Have a school bullying committee meeting to understand the situation and impose formal punishment!"

"You...! Get out here quickly."

Amid the murmurs of the surrounding teachers and the overwhelming attention, the homeroom teacher, who was under pressure, dragged me out of the staff room.

He dragged me to a deserted corridor, grinding his teeth in frustration.

After confirming that there was no one around, he shouted at me.

"What kind of mouth do you have, talking to an adult like that!"

"..."

From experience, I knew that the louder person wins in an argument.

The homeroom teacher is an adult, but adults are not perfect.

He was in a rage.

I decided to listen first.

What do you think you're doing –

I'll call the facility and tell them everything –

Kids these days are scary –

Where did you learn such bad habits –

I can't believe it –

After about two minutes, the homeroom teacher, who was initially very agitated, calmed down a bit.

He realized that he had made some inappropriate personal attacks on a fifth-grader and seemed to be a bit more restrained.

Now is the time to strike.

"I won't go back to class."

"What?"

"I'll stay in the staff room. You deal with it."

I walked back to the staff room. The homeroom teacher tried to stop me with force, but as I pushed forward with all my might, he ended up being dragged along.

Even though adults are stronger than elementary school students, it's very difficult for an adult to use full force to restrain someone in their workplace.

As the homeroom teacher calmed down, he started to feel intimidated by me.

"You, you...! In-seop, why are you acting like this all of a sudden?"

"Try it."

"What?!"

"If I go back to class now, I'll get hit. I'll keep getting hit until the end of the school day. If I get hit by you now, at least the police can be called, and I'll get hit less."

Even if the homeroom teacher was indifferent to the students,