Chapter 4
Trash Belongs in the Trash Can
The next day, my parents, Park Gwang-seok, and Noh Hyeong-jin went to the prosecutor’s office.
“What’s this about?”
“We’re here to file charges.”
“You can file charges with the police, you know.”
“But we can do it here too, can’t we?”
At that, the receptionist’s face showed mild annoyance. Understandably so — when a report is filed with the police, they filter and forward it if necessary, but when it’s filed directly with the prosecutor’s office, they’re obligated to order an investigation right away. It means more work for them.
“What is it? Some kids got into a fight?”
Seeing the young people, the receptionist assumed it was a trivial matter. However—
“Unlawful entry and property damage. Violation of the Organized Crime Act, aggravated robbery, violation of the Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Crimes, threats, and aggravated assault under the same act.”
“What…?”
The string of terrifying legal terms left the receptionist flustered. Those were serious, heavy crime charges.
“Are you kidding me—”
“This isn’t a joke. Here’s the evidence.”
Gwang-seok’s father set down a box nearly full of documents. As the receptionist skimmed through them, his expression grew strange. His job was just to take reports — but even to his untrained eyes, the evidence was airtight. There were photos, recorded audio files, and even genetic samples for testing.
“Ahem… understood. We’ll contact you soon. Please wait for further notice.”
“Oh, there’s more.”
“More?”
“This is a separate report — for breach of duty.”
“And the subject is… the police?”
“Yes.”
The receptionist just stared blankly at them.
Beside him, Park Gwang-seok and Noh Hyeong-jin exchanged knowing smiles.
At last, the grand finale of their revenge had begun.
“Damn it!”
Cho Hyuk-woo’s house was in chaos.
He had suddenly been summoned by the police — not only summoned but investigated under an array of frightening criminal charges.
“That son of a bitch.”
For the past month, Noh Hyeong-jin had followed him around, secretly collecting evidence — even Park Gwang-seok, the victim himself, didn’t know.
Once the evidence was airtight, Hyeong-jin persuaded Gwang-seok to file the reports — and now everything was ready.
“What do we do now?”
“What do you mean? We’ll crush that bastard.”
Unlawful entry and property damage were already proven — Hyeong-jin had filmed them climbing over the wall and breaking the window. Sure, the damage inside was done by Gwang-seok during the fight, but no one could prove that. To anyone, it looked like Cho Hyuk-woo’s gang had broken in.
The Organized Crime Act applied because Hyuk-woo himself was recorded calling his gang “Jijonpa,” an organized group.
Aggravated robbery — that was clear too. Hyuk-woo had forcibly taken 6 million won from Gwang-seok, and there was an audio recording admitting it.
The “Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Crimes” applied when three or more people committed a violent robbery using weapons or during nighttime — which perfectly fit their case.
There were always four of them, and photos showed them assaulting others with mops and cigarette butts — threatening items. With all this, every charge stood solidly.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To deal with that bastard!”
Ignoring their parents’ protests, the gang rushed out to find Park Gwang-seok.
It didn’t take long before they caught him.
“You little bastard, have you lost your mind?”
“Let me go!”
“Go? You’re dead today.”
“I said, let go!”
“Drag him away!”
They forcibly hauled Gwang-seok up the mountain behind the neighborhood and began beating him mercilessly.
“You dared to report me? You’re dead. You’re not walking away from here alive, you son of a bitch.”
“Ghh—!”
“Let’s start by breaking his arms and legs so he can’t run.”
Click — Hyuk-woo pulled out a box cutter.
But their plan didn’t go as they hoped.
“Hands up! Don’t move!”
At the voice behind them, they turned — only to find cold gun barrels pointed at them.
“Wh—what?”
It was the police. They were surrounded.
“How… how did they…?”
“Simple… this.”
Coughing, Gwang-seok stood up, pulling his phone from his pocket.
The line to 119 (emergency services) was still open — broadcasting everything live.
“Damn…”
“Swear all you want. You’re in a situation that deserves it.”
With a victorious grin, Gwang-seok smirked at the four of them.
At last, he had beaten them.
“So, what will you do?”
At the same time, Noh Hyeong-jin was meeting Gwang-seok’s homeroom teacher.
As he stopped the playback of the recorded file, the teacher’s face turned pale.
“Hmm.”
“Shall I repeat what you did? You refused to help a student — that’s breach of duty. You ignored the activities of a violent group and their crimes — that’s being an accomplice to robbery. You informed the perpetrators of a filed complaint — that’s a violation of the Personal Information Protection Act. Shall I go on?”
The teacher’s face went completely white.
Because of the report Gwang-seok filed, the school was already in chaos — if the teacher himself were charged as an accomplice, not only would the school’s reputation be destroyed, he’d be investigated and likely fired — maybe even jailed.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing big. Just tell the truth.”
“The truth?”
“You know how this goes. When a student gets arrested, schools usually draft collective petitions asking for leniency.”
It was a common practice — forcing students to sign petitions asking for forgiveness on behalf of bullies, while ignoring the victims entirely.
“But… a petition, at least—”
“If you don’t like it, I can just expose all of this. Should I? Maybe the students will write your petition then?”
“…”
Before the teacher could speak, Hyeong-jin’s phone rang. He answered, and a faint smile spread across his face.
“Ah. Never mind the petition. I’ve changed my mind. We’ll just proceed with the report.”
“W-wait! There’s no need to—”
“There is. That Cho Hyuk-woo guy? He was just caught red-handed — attempted murder.”
“What?!”
Attempted murder was an entirely different league.
Petitions were meaningless now.
“You’ve done a fine job as a teacher. Next time I see you, it’ll be in prison. I’ll tell my brother to visit you.”
“W-wait! Don’t! I won’t write the petition!”
“Too late. Wouldn’t matter anyway.”
“P-please, let’s talk about this—”
Now the teacher was begging.
Hyeong-jin sat down again, sighing lightly.
“Then do this.”
“What?”
“Gather all the victim students. Have them each file separate reports.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
“Heh…”
He agreed easily — but he had no idea just how powerful that move would be.
Eating cold ice cream, Park Gwang-seok and Noh Hyeong-jin watched the people passing by beyond the glass wall. Despite the noisy media coverage, life outside went on as usual.
“So what’ll happen to Cho Hyuk-woo?”
“He’s not getting out for at least ten years.”
“That long?”
“At least.”
Aggravated assault. Aggravated robbery. Trespassing. Property damage.
Then retaliation violence, kidnapping, and attempted murder.
Those were all his charges — far beyond “youthful mischief.”
“Especially since the school filed charges too.”
The law is strange that way.
When victims report school violence, police often treat it as simple assault — just to avoid the hassle.
But most school violence is aggravated assault, since bullies usually attack in groups, using mops, cutters, or at night.
Parents didn’t know this — so the police could water it down.
But Hyeong-jin had done it right: filing the exact charges.
That meant the police had to investigate those specific crimes — no “quiet settlements.”
It was now classified as violent organized crime.
“He might even get fifteen years.”
“Maybe twenty?”
“Yeah. Since each victim filed separately.”
If fifty students had their money stolen, and all fifty filed individually, the court couldn’t group it as one case — legally, each was a separate crime with its own victim.
Even if each offense got only four months, fifty victims meant over 200 months in total.
Of course, the court might consolidate, but the sentence would still be harsh — and that’s not even counting civil damages.
“What about the other bullies?”
“They’re done for.”
The media tore into the police — after all, the police had ignored the initial reports, leading to retaliation and even attempted murder.
Under pressure, the police raided the schools and arrested every known bully.
“The school and teachers too — that was planned?”
“Yep.”
“You’re scary.”
“Hey, I learned from the best.”
“From who?”
Hyeong-jin couldn’t bring himself to say it was his brother.
The same strategy — destroying not only bullies but also the institutions that protected them — was the signature of the legendary “School Violence Killer,” Park Gwang-seok.
“By the way, it’s about time.”
“Time for what? Who’s coming?”
“Oh, there she is.”
“Who—”
Gwang-seok froze the moment he saw her walk in.
“Hey, Noh Hyeong-jin! Why are you eating ice cream when you’re broke? And that’s the expensive kind too!”
“I didn’t know. So, lend me some money.”
“You cheeky brat.”
With a sigh, Noh Hyeon-ah pulled money from her wallet.
“Hello,” said Gwang-seok automatically.
“Who are you?”
“Ah, I’m Park Gwang-seok.”
At that, Hyeon-ah froze slightly — she knew the name.
He was the one who had left a love letter on her desk.
She hadn’t seen his face back then — but now she remembered.
No wonder she’d rejected it.
“Say hi. You go to the same school as my sister, right? He’s Gwang-seok hyung.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Noh Hyeon-ah.”
“Why so awkward?”
“N-no reason.”
“Same grade too, come to think of it.”
“Ha ha…”
“So how do you two know each other? Different schools, aren’t you?”
Apparently, Hyeon-ah was surprised they knew each other at all.
“Oh, he taught me.”
“Taught you?”
“Didn’t you know? He’s the top student in your whole school.”
“Really?”
Her eyes sparkled with admiration.
“And he’s also the guy who made headlines — the one who crushed the school bullies. What was that article called again? ‘A Gentleman’s Revenge Isn’t Too Late, Even After Ten Years’?”
“Hey, enough.”
Embarrassed, Gwang-seok waved his hands.
“Journalists are calling him a future Supreme Court justice, you know.”
At that, her eyes sparkled even brighter.
Watching this, Hyeong-jin stood up.
“I’ll get going.”
He got up from the table.
His sister followed him out, looking regretful.
Back home, she immediately rummaged through the trash bin by her bed.
But of course, what she’d thrown out a month ago was long gone.
“Mom! Did you empty my trash can?”
“Of course I did.”
“Ahhh! No!”
She collapsed in despair.
Watching her, Hyeong-jin smirked.
“Sis, it’s in your dictionary.”
“What?”
“The red envelope.”
Her eyes widened.
“You should’ve hidden it better.”
“You—you didn’t—”
“Oops~”
“You’re dead later!”
“I’m teasing you forever.”
As she bolted to her room, Hyeong-jin finished off the last spoon of ice cream.
“Ahh, peaceful.”
For some reason, he felt happy.
