The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 13: The Scorching Season (3)

Convent bus stop.

It was the day’s suspension ended and he was going back to school.

After a long time, the three musketeers had gathered again.

“Cheonmyeong, we never ran into each other while delivering.”

“After working at the lunchbox factory, I went straight to the supply depot.”

“You’re really amazing. Aren’t you tired?”

“I had a couple of nosebleeds.”

“Wow!”

Yang Seok-gu admired, but Ji Jeongseok was filled with worry.

“We have exams the day after tomorrow. You look doomed. I’m doomed too.”

“The notes you gave helped me a lot.”

“You spent all your time working.”

“First year high school isn’t much different from middle school. And I studied even with nosebleeds.”

“High school doesn’t allow cramming, that’s why I say it.”

Ji Jeongseok shook his head, then added:

“If you can’t beat Wang Dohun, I’m ruined.”

“Even if I’m ruined, I’m the one who’s ruined. And why would you be ruined? You just need to get first place.”

“I can’t do basic arithmetic.”

“I hate math too. We’re destined for humanities.”

“Hey! Speaking of which, what happened with Woo Ah-mi? Do you have her number?”

Hearing Yang Seok-gu’s words, Ji Jeongseok’s eyes went wide.

“Who’s Woo Ah-mi?”

“Cheonmyeong went on a meeting [group date]. You were paired with the prettiest girl—I was so jealous.”

“And I was left out? You guys are real jerks.”

“There was an empty spot. Cheonmyeong, don’t you have her number?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why? She seemed to like you. Didn’t you ask?”

“It just didn’t happen.”

Of course, I felt disappointed too.

But I believed we’d meet again on the bus.

Maybe I thought it was fate.

Then, like a ray of salvation, Yang Seok-gu said:

“Her surname is Woo. You’ll find her fast in the phone directory.”

“That’s right! There aren’t many Woos. Just check the directory.”

The phone booth had a personal directory and a business directory.

They listed subscriber names, addresses, and phone numbers.

As Yang Seok-gu said, there weren’t many Woos, so we thought we’d find it quickly. Or we could find “Ami Pipe Trading,” run by Woo Ah-mi’s father, in the business directory.

Ji Jeongseok kept muttering.

“That’s not the issue now. Cheonmyeong has to beat Wang Dohun, but it’s hopeless.”

“Don’t worry.”

“If you knew how hard Wang Dohun studied, you’d throw in the towel immediately.”

“That’s right. That guy reads books even while eating.”

“I also studied until my nose bled.”

“Wow. Middle school and high school are different.”

I grinned.

I was confident.

Yang Seok-gu looked worried and said:

“By the way, Cheonmyeong, the vice‑class president is Choi Hyeong-chang. But seriously! Is it okay for the class president to appoint the vice‑president? That punk.”

“Is school some political group? He’s no different from a political thug.”

Ji Jeongseok got excited too.

Yang Seok-gu warned me:

“Be careful of Hyung-chang. He’ll obviously provoke you.”

“Got it.”

“Oh? The bus is here!”

Yang Seok-gu was the first to run. Jeongseok and I sprinted full speed to catch the bus.

The moment another fierce day began.

Just as Yang Seok-gu said, Choi Hyeong-chang provoked me throughout class.

I had sensed it since he sat behind me.

Choi Hyeong-chang.

He was notorious for bullying weaker kids and extorting money in the neighborhood.

Yang Seok-gu said he was aiming for the freshman 'cap'.

‘Cap’ would later turn into the word ‘boss.’

“Yugi Jeonghak! Feels good to be back at school after suspension, huh? Knocking out the class president was just luck.”

“Guys like you aren’t worth a fistfight. You know who I am, right? Mess around and you’re dead.”

“Don’t get cocky just because you’re good at studying. I might break your arm so you can’t hold a mechanical pencil.”

From behind me, Choi Hyeong-chang repeated threats and sneers.

He even jabbed my side with a mechanical pencil to provoke me.

I endured.

I didn’t want to cause trouble right before the exams.

However.

Anger accumulated during national history class reached its breaking point.

“I heard you live in a shantytown? You even have an outdoor toilet. How can anyone live like that?”

I held it in until that point.

“I also heard your mom cleans shoes like a beggar under the overpass? Let me clean my shoes sometime…”

In the end, I exploded.

The national history teacher was teaching, but I turned around and threw a hook punch with my right fist.

He was hit in the cheek and collapsed to the side. The sound of the chair falling and his body hitting the floor was loud.

With my rage and centrifugal force behind it, the impact must have been tremendous.

Choi Hyeong‑chang’s eyes rolled back as he trembled like a leaf.

“What was that?”

The national history teacher approached me.

“Kang Cheonmyeong, why did you do that?”

“That bastard called my mom a beggar, so I couldn’t stand it.”

The teacher of national history was Jeon Seonghyeon.

He was the teacher I respected most at this school.

I wanted to add the honorific “nim.”

Seonghyeon helped Choi Hyeong‑chang up and asked for the whole story.

After tasting my punch, Choi Hyeong‑chang didn’t deny what I said.

When he heard everything, Seonghyeon said:

“Even if someone says something wrong, violence is not allowed. Cheonmyeong, apologize first.”

Based on how I felt, I wanted to beat that bastard to a pulp. But since he was my favorite teacher, I obeyed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hyung‑chang, you also said something wrong, so apologize.”

“…I’m sorry.”

I thought it ended well.

But the class president wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

He immediately reported to the homeroom teacher, and I was summoned to the staff room after class.

The homeroom teacher looked stunned.

“Are you a thug?”

“No, sir.”

“As soon as your suspension was lifted, you used your fist again? A gangster?”

“No, sir.”

“Stand against the wall with your hand raised. We’ll talk later.”

I pressed my hand against the staff room wall and raised it, and the homeroom teacher left the room.

I felt like a monkey in a zoo.

Passing teachers tapped me on the shoulder.

The math teacher said:

“Hey! You were always first in middle school—what’s wrong with you? Is it teenage angst?”

Hitting my head with the attendance book was mild compared to what could have happened.

The social studies teacher pressed the pointer hard into my solar plexus.

“Don’t you want to go to school? You look meek but you go around beating people? What’s wrong with you?”

I didn’t answer. Speaking wouldn’t solve anything.

If I talked back, I’d only get more beatings.

Then the geography teacher gave me a savage flick on the head.

This was personal. The blow was so strong I felt dizzy.

“Kang Cheonmyeong! You live a tough life too and you’re squabbling? Think about your suffering parents, boy! Do you want to live like them?”

If it weren’t teachers, I wanted to drive my fist into their faces.

That was a clear insult to my parents.

They worked harder than anyone.

I gritted my teeth and endured.

“I will be first in school.”

And my vow, like the law of attraction, eventually came true.

I became first in the whole school.

I missed just one math problem and got everything else correct.

When the grades were posted on the school bulletin board, all the students’ attention turned to me.

“What the hell is that guy?”

The fact that I had time‑traveled was a secret.

Saturday morning, school was closed.

My family sat on the wooden floor peeling garlic.

There was an overpass under repair, so Mom didn’t go to work that day.

A rubber tub full of garlic. It was a side job.

Peel garlic and bring it to the ramen factory to get ramen in return.

It was a rare way to get ramen, but Mom hoped Kang Daemyung would at least do simple work.

She thought that way he might get a job at a factory someday.

“My eyes sting too much.”

Yeonhwa held her eyes to the fan and let the breeze cool them.

The eyes did sting. Without goggles, we just endured as we peeled.

Kang Daemyung peeled garlic as if nothing bothered him.

Mom looked troubled, so I asked:

“Mom, is something wrong?”

“What would be wrong?”

“It shows on your face.”

“Sigh.”

Mom sighed.

“What is it?”

“The world is turbulent, that’s why.”

Mom put down the garlic she was peeling and continued:

“A friend of mine—her son got dragged away during a protest and was beaten so bad he can’t even walk.”

“When they hit him, he died instantly. Can that even happen?”

I was stunned at Yeonhwa’s words.

How did she know more about the world than I did?

“How did you know that?”

“I saw it in the newspaper. I saw lots of buses carrying riot police. University students are shouting to overthrow the dictatorship. Mom! Is this era one of dictatorship? Do you know, oppa?”

“Don’t say things like that. You kids should just study hard. Students only have to study.”

“Isn’t big brother protesting too? He’s a university student.”

I wondered how my older brother was doing.

Based on what I saw at his boarding room in Ahyeon‑dong, he must be protesting.

Mom spoke in a low voice.

“They say university students are protesting today…”

I changed the subject:

“Mom, the mothballs in the bathroom really did cut the smell.”

However,

“I guess you’re right, Oppa. It was tough because of the smell in summer. Now that I put down naphthalene, it doesn’t smell much.”

Mom seemed unable to hear us because she was worried about big brother.

I had to check.

“Mom, I completely forgot—I have an appointment. I’ll be right back.”

“Oppa, what appointment?”

“Something like that.”

I headed toward Ahyeon‑dong, where big brother was living on his own.

Praying desperately that he’d be home.

Big brother wasn’t in his rented room, so I went to Yeonje University.

Even on the bus, a chill ran down my spine that wouldn’t go away.

Please, I thought, let nothing be wrong.

When I arrived at Yeonje University, I encountered a shocking sight.

Across from the school stood a pepper fog truck, and beside it riot police were lined up in formation.

A tension that dampened the skin.

Even though tear gas hadn’t been fired yet, my head was already filled with gas.

Hoping big brother wasn’t there, I walked in front of the school.

Arriving at the wide‑open main gate.

“Waaah!”

A sudden roar erupted as university students poured out.

Flags fluttering in the air. Students covering their faces with masks and bandanas.

[Secure Democratic Constitution]

[Abolish the Pro‑Order]

[Direct Presidential Election]

And banners with department names.

“Abolish the Pro‑Order! Down with dictatorship!”

Tear gas grenades exploded in accompaniment to the chants.

Bang— bang—

The acrid smell stung eyes and nose.

All I could think was I had to find big brother and take him away.

Pulling up my shirt over my nose, I pushed forward.

Bang bang! Bang bang!

Tear gas bursts erupted everywhere.

How many were they firing?

It stung so much that I couldn’t open my eyes.

Looking back, tear gas pellets were spraying in all directions.

So that’s why they’re called “shit grenades.”

The students resisted by throwing stones and Molotovs.

White powder rained down mid‑air, and I felt my life threatened.

My vision was blurred like trapped in fog, so finding big brother was impossible.

With thoughts of getting home quickly, I headed onto the road.

“Waa!”

Riot police armed with shields and gas masks charged forward with batons.

‘Huh? This isn’t right,’ I panicked.

Because two of them glared at me like predators hunting herbivores.

Realizing I’d be caught 100% if I went on the road, I ran back into the school.

Screams echoed around me and the sound of fast footsteps behind me.

My throat burned, making it hard to breathe, and I couldn’t open my eyes properly.

My eyes hurt so much I shut them briefly, and unfortunately, I tripped over a stone step.

Thud! Thud!

Batons struck my knees, and I instinctively raised my arms to protect my head.

The beating didn’t let up easily. After a long while, the assault finally stopped.

“Grab this bastard and take him in!”

“He’s a high school student, really!”

But my words didn’t reach them.