No More Thug Life, I’m Playing Music

Episode 43. The Madman Above the Runner (5)

It was a late morning, long past the start of school.
The school grounds were quiet. The main gate, the field, the auditorium, the hallways, and even the classrooms—all still.

I liked this time of day.
There was something calming about the subdued atmosphere, the silence hanging in the air.
That’s why I preferred arriving around now.
Not, as some might say, as an excuse for being late.

Rattle.
The back door creaked open as I entered the classroom, greeted by the strong scent of perfume.
The source? Two girls seated by the door, one with hair dyed bright yellow, the other a striking red.

They were cosmetology students who, judging by the overwhelming aroma, had doused themselves in perfume. My nose stung the moment I stepped in.

“Morning, Seojoon!”
“Hi, Seojoon!”

They greeted me brightly, and I returned a polite smile before heading to my seat in the back left corner.
Among the twenty students in this special arts class for third-years, I had claimed the seat furthest from attention. Given how often I was absent, it was only natural.

I glanced at the blackboard at the front of the room.
As expected, the word “Self-Study” was scrawled across it.
Though class had started long ago, the teacher hadn’t shown up.
Such was the reality of how arts students were treated at Poonggwang High.

Not that the students seemed to mind—they liked the freedom to focus on their craft.

Switching from earbuds to earplugs, I blocked out most of the noise.
But a faint conversation at the front of the room still reached me.

“Hey, what should I do? I’m so nervous… What if Seojoon doesn’t like it?”
“Don’t worry! He’ll definitely like it.”

The two girls were sneaking glances my way as they whispered.
One of them began approaching, hiding something behind her back.

“Here we go again,” I thought.

The expression, the body language—I knew the drill.
She was about to confess.
Not that she knew anything about me; it was all based on my appearance.

The question was how to turn her down this time.
As much as I dreamed of dating normal women, dating a high schooler was out of the question.

“Umm…”
The girl stood before me, her lips trembling.

“S-Seojoon…”

“Yes, Eunji?”

“You… you know my name?”

“I made sure to remember.”

How could I not? We’d been in the same class for four months, after all.

“You… remembered? Oh my gosh…”

Her eyes sparkled at my response, and she quickly handed over the object she’d been hiding.
It was a rolled-up piece of drawing paper.

“A drawing?”

“Yeah…”

I unrolled it to reveal an image of a young woman sitting at a piano.
She had wavy mid-length hair, sharp features, pale skin, and reddish eyelids—a cold, striking beauty.

“It’s beautifully drawn.”

“Really? Wow!”

Her face lit up at my compliment.

“But… who is it?”

“It’s you…”

Did I hear her wrong?

“…Me?”

“Yeah…”

Oh, dear.

Judging by her innocent expression, she meant it as a pure compliment. I couldn’t bring myself to criticize it.

“…It’s nice.”

“R-Really? You’re just so… handsome and pretty…”

“Handsome and… what?”

“Handsome and pretty.”

“……”

Is that something you say to a guy?
It seemed this long hair of mine was to blame.

Ever since Choo Minji talked me into keeping it, saying it added to my “unique visual appeal,” I’d left it alone.
Clearly, that had been a mistake.

“By the way, could I… get your phone number—”

At that moment, a stronger wave of perfume hit me.
Yellow and Red had approached.

“Oh my, is this a joke?”
“Eunji, are you sure you’re a fine arts student?”

The two girls sneered as they spoke.

“N-No, I just…”

“You’re giving Seojoon that kind of cheap drawing? And asking for his number on top of it?”

“See? I told you she’s just taking advantage of the fact that Seojoon doesn’t snap at girls.”

“T-That’s not true…”

“Not true? It’s obvious you’re throwing yourself at him—”

“Enough.”

I raised a hand to silence them.

To prevent the situation from escalating, I told everyone to return to their seats.

“Thank you for this.”

I rolled up Eunji’s drawing and tucked it into my bag.
As the trio dispersed, the other students, who had been stealing glances, quickly turned away.

With the classroom quiet again, only Yellow and Red’s whispers reached my ears.

“What a loser. Who does she think she’s hitting on?”

“Seriously.”
“Oh, did you see that new Shorts video today?”
“What is it?”
“This.”
“Oh my god, no way. Is that today?”
“Yeah, while you were in the bathroom, we filmed it with the others.”
“Pfft. That’s insane. It’s so funny… Wait, is that the second-year classroom window? What if you get caught?”
“Caught? Please. If I say it wasn’t me, that’s the end of it.”

Tsk.

For months now, I’d been helping guide the students at the prefect teacher’s request.

While there hadn’t been any major issues, if I had to name one persistent problem, it was the female students.
Many of them were just as problematic as the boys, but I couldn’t exactly discipline them the same way I did the guys.

I can’t compromise my principles just because some kids try to take advantage of my leniency.
So, I’d always held off on any follow-up actions. But now, it seemed some sharp-eyed female students were exploiting that.

“Hmm…”

How could I handle this so I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore?

****

A little while later, the front door opened, and Seo Sooji, the homeroom teacher for the arts class, walked in.
Shaking off my thoughts, I turned my attention to her.

“Alright, everyone, you know summer break starts next week, right?”

“Yes~!”

“Why are you so happy? Aren’t you all supposed to spend the break preparing for your practicals?”

“Yes…”

“Just hang in there a little longer. Oh, and by the way, our school’s been selected as a ‘Violence-Free Happy School.’”

As she spoke, Seo Sooji looked at me, and the students followed her gaze, giving me a thumbs-up.

“Ooooh~ Jung Seojoon~!”

Even if it felt superficial, they were the only ones who treated me like a regular student.
I waved back with a grin.

“Ha-ha.”

****

Bang!
The classroom’s back door flew open as someone stormed in.

A tall male student with a slightly furrowed brow and thin, narrowed eyes stood there.
Both hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

“Eom Deokgu?”

His expression was the same as usual, but his appearance was anything but.
He was drenched in an unidentifiable white liquid.

“Eugh, the smell!”

Red, who stood near the door, pinched her nose.
Soon, a rotten stench spread through the room.

I realized—it was the smell of spoiled milk.

“Hey! What happened to you?” Seo Sooji exclaimed.

Eom Deokgu ignored her, scanning the classroom with a sweeping gaze.
His eyes stopped on Yellow, and he began walking toward her.

“Found you, you little piece of crap.”

“What? You—kyaah!”

Deokgu grabbed Yellow by the hair and slammed her face onto the desk.
Cosmetics spilled onto the floor as spoiled milk dripped from Deokgu’s arm onto Yellow’s head.

“How’s that? Bet it tastes amazing.”

“Let go, you psycho! Aaagh!”

Yellow flailed, but Deokgu’s grip didn’t budge.
Her yellow-dyed hair turned stiff and soggy under the milk.

“Let go, you bastard!”

“Shut it. Unless you want me to rip all your hair out.”

Deokgu leaned in slightly, his posture resembling a predator ready to sink its teeth into its prey’s neck.

“P-Please, let me go…”

“You pull a crazy stunt, you get beaten by a crazy guy. That’s the rule, you rotten little—”

Yellow trembled, paralyzed with fear at Deokgu’s icy glare.

“Uh… ugh…”

“That’s enough, Deokgu.”

Thinking he’d gone too far, I stood up.
That’s when I noticed the hallway beyond the classroom’s windows.

Several students stood there, all drenched in spoiled milk, glaring at Deokgu with reddened eyes.

For a brief moment, their determination stunned me into silence.

– Murmur, murmur.

The commotion spilled into the adjacent class, drawing a crowd of students who gathered like onlookers at a burning house.

Among them were two male teachers, but neither stepped in.
They either feared Deokgu’s size or were aware of his connections.

One teacher gestured at me with his chin as if to say, Go handle it.

“Ha-ha…”

“Seojoon! Do something!”

Red ran up to me, grabbing my arm.

“Wait here,” I said, before approaching Deokgu.

“That’s enough.”

Deokgu raised an eyebrow, looking at me.

“Not today, okay?”

“Seojoon, can’t you see what’s happening? I’m punishing her, just like you do with the orchestra kids.”

“I get it.”

I nodded and pulled the prefect badge from my uniform collar.

I reached out, intending to pin it to Deokgu’s collar.

To do that, I had to get close—too close. The stench of spoiled milk assaulted my nose.

“Ugh.”

My focus wavered, and I accidentally stepped on a spilled cosmetic bottle, losing my balance for a moment.

Thunk.

“Ah, crap.”

“……”

Deokgu looked down at his chest, where my badge was now pinned.
Everyone stared, their jaws hanging open, at the badge that read “PREFECT” now adorning Deokgu’s chest.

“Sorry. That wasn’t intentional.”

“Hah… damn it…”

Deokgu let go of Yellow’s hair and stepped back.
Seizing the moment, I pulled Yellow away and handed her over to Red, who supported her as they retreated.

Left standing awkwardly, I gave Deokgu a sheepish smile.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I was trying to pin it to your collar.”

“What the hell does this mean? Is this some kind of death threat?”

Deokgu pointed at the badge on his chest, standing with a crooked posture.

I replied casually, “No, it means you’re the new prefect.”

“What?”

Eom Deokgu looked baffled, while the other students who had been watching gasped in shock.

“Seojoon!”
Seo Sooji, the homeroom teacher, approached and grabbed my arm, concern written all over her face. I nodded reassuringly.

“I’ve got this. Besides, I was only supposed to fill in as prefect for the first semester anyway.”

“Still—”

“You’re seriously crazy, you know that?”

Deokgu snorted and yanked the badge from his chest.
When I saw the small red stain blooming on his shirt from where the pin had pricked him, a pang of guilt hit me.

“Ahem… Let’s go to the nurse’s office and disinfect that. Back in my day, we’d just spit on it and move on, but apparently, that’s not how things work these days.”

“Wow, you’re way crazier than I thought.”

Deokgu raised his arm, seemingly about to toss the badge to the floor.

“Go rub it on yourself, you stupid piece of—ugh!”

“No more cursing.”

I jabbed him lightly in the stomach, making him double over, glaring at me through gritted teeth.

“Son of a…”

“Come on, the prefect has to set an example, right?”

This was a perfect solution to a problem I’d been mulling over—who to pass this tiresome role onto.
From what I’d observed, Deokgu didn’t clash with ordinary students; he only tangled with troublemakers.
With someone like him roaming the school, backed by me, even the boldest troublemakers—male or female—would steer clear.

It was like how the pungent smell of the spoiled milk had overpowered the perfume filling the classroom earlier.

“Let’s hit the sauna first. The smell… yikes.”

I wiped my hands on one of the clean patches of his uniform as I spoke.

“Hah… haha…”

Deokgu chuckled dryly as I walked out of the classroom, leaving him to process the situation.

****

When entering a world like this for the first time, there’s a stage you inevitably go through:
Group living.

For gangsters, this means living together to learn survival tactics and discipline.
It’s the starting point of “the lifestyle.”

These days, the JS Group offers training at a comfortable retreat center near Seoul, but it wasn’t always this way.

Twenty years ago, when I first joined, JS Group—or Juseongpa—was nothing but a ragtag gang.
We staffed nightclubs, supplied alcohol, and extorted protection money—a pitiful crew of thugs.

Back then, all the members crammed into a single villa. Five men sharing a single room wasn’t uncommon.
No matter the organization, this kind of communal system existed in some form.

I was a drifter with nowhere else to go, so I endured it. But others, who’d been lured in by the glamorous image of gangsters they’d seen in movies, found the reality unbearable.

Anyway, I bring this up because there’s a system in the classical music world that reminded me of it:
Music camps.

Every summer and winter, countless music colleges and organizations across the country host these camps.
Participants spend anywhere from three days to ten at hotels or resorts, practicing and exchanging musical ideas.

The official programs are packed with activities and educational content, but to put it simply:
You eat, sleep, and breathe music, buried in practice and rehearsals.

Though I hadn’t attended one myself, just hearing about it was enough to make me think of gang training camps.

****

Last winter, Professor Han invited me to join her music camp.
I immediately turned her down. The thought of communal living made my skin crawl.

I’d since forgotten about it until Choo Minji approached me, asking for ideas for No Redemption.
Reluctantly, I thought of the music camp again.

With the student music festival approaching in the fall, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to improve our orchestra’s skills, which were sorely lacking compared to other schools.

After all, at this stage of my life, I wouldn’t be the youngest in the group, right?
I proposed the idea to Seo Sooji, and while she supported it, the school did not.

The reasons?
First, budget constraints. Second, public perception.

To outsiders, “camp” carried the wrong connotations.
The orchestra, already seen as a gathering of troublemakers, going on a “vacation” during the break—funded by the school budget? Unthinkable.

In hindsight, perhaps calling it “training” would’ve worked better.

Regardless, I decided to fund the entire camp myself.
While it was a significant expense, I saw it as an investment that would pay off.

****

“Today’s the day,” I muttered, gazing toward the school’s main gate.

A chartered bus and a van were parked there.
The orchestra members were busy loading their luggage, while Choo Minji filmed everything with her camcorder.

“Seojoon.”

Seo Sooji approached me.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without me?”

Unfortunately, she had a training session scheduled this week.

“Yes, we’ll be fine.”

“If anything happens, call me immediately. Not that I think anything will happen with you around.”

Her words, full of trust, brought a smile to my face.

****

Soon, the orchestra and Baekjung TV crew had finished their preparations. All that remained was to depart.

“Baekjung-nim, what about him?”

Minji asked, pointing her camcorder at me.

“Hm.”

I glanced at the list in my hand.
Everyone but one person was accounted for.

“Go ahead. I’ll bring Eom Deokgu along somehow.”