The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 15: The Scorching Season (5)

[A first-year high schooler’s burning cry! Is police brutality now being aimed at teenagers?]

A huge banner headline on the front page of Donghwa Ilbo.

What shocked me was the photo under the headline.

Inside the main gate of Yeonje University, a male student was being beaten by two riot police officers.

The one clutching his head—that was me.

Where did they get a photo like that?

“Cheonmyeong, that’s you!”

Yang Seok‑gu’s eyes went wide as he stared at me.

Through the arms wrapped around my head, I could see my face—and it was definitely me.

“Guess I can’t deny it. It’s me.”

I had met Yang Seok‑gu while delivering milk. To be precise, after he saw the front-page article, he waited for me on my milk route.

“Read it. I nearly fainted. You didn’t know anything about this?”

“I didn’t know.”

I skimmed the article.

— “Even after I told them I was a high school student, the riot police didn’t stop beating me. Same thing at the police station. The detective in charge threatened that if I didn’t answer as ordered, they’d send me to Namyeong‑dong.”

During the protest at Yeonje University on the 9th, first-year high schooler Kang was beaten indiscriminately, as the photo shows. Unfortunately, it didn’t end there. After being dragged to the Jungang Police Station, Kang was forced to confess to things that never happened, and was subjected to punishment drills and beatings in a two‑square‑meter interrogation room.

Something odd about the article.

I had clearly stated that I went to Yeonje University to see my older brother, but that part wasn’t included.

If I read to the midpoint of the article, I was a high school student who went to a demonstration.

I read on.

— Another reporter at the scene said, “The riot police and Baekgoldan brutally assaulted students with batons, showing no mercy toward either boys or girls.”

Are the cops still not straightening up, given they said “bang” and someone “died instantly”?

Even in the rest of the article, there was no mention that I went looking for my brother.

Yang Seok‑gu asked.

“Did you go to the protest too?”

“No. I went to find my brother.”

“But the photo makes you look like a revolutionary—taking a pummeling with your whole body. And your expression is so determined.”

This was maddening.

Anyone seeing that article and photo would mistake me for a democracy activist.

I was definitely standing eyes closed under the blows—but the photo was snapped at the moment I opened them.

And why did my gaze look so intense and defiant?

“I’m going crazy. They edited it to suit their narrative.”

“Why? Isn’t it true? The photo shows you being hit.”

“They left out what I emphasized.”

The last paragraph included my eyewitness account of seeing college‐aged brothers who had been tortured in a detention cell.

“I’m losing it.”

“Cheonmyeong, you’re a hero now.”

Yang Seok‑gu looked at me like a disciple intoxicated with devotion to a cult leader.

Hero my ass.

I don’t think I can handle that attention.

I feel trapped.

When I got to school, homeroom dragged me into the teacher’s office.

As always, it began with a thwack of the attendance register on my head.

“You idiot! Are you sane? Some kid with no maturity went to a protest!”

“I went to find my brother. I didn’t go for a demonstration.”

“You ass! Your big mug’s plastered in the paper! Because of you! The school got an official notice to conduct moral education!”

Damn it!

How am I supposed to take this?

“Stand with your hand raised and stay there.”

Since I became top of the class, the homeroom teacher hasn’t been physically abusive—at least not brutally.

He seemed proud of having the top student in his homeroom.

“From now on, it’s zoo–monkey time.”

Teachers passing by tapped my head and added comments.

“You punk! Save those protests until you get to college! What does a first‑year high schooler know?”

“Kang Cheonmyeong! You’re got guts. I like that.”

“Are you a commie? Students should hold pens, not Molotov cocktails! You’ll end up dragged somewhere scary before you wise up.”

“You’re lucky you studied well. Otherwise you’d be expelled.”

Unlike the others, history teacher Jeon Seong‑hyeon grinned at me as he passed.

What could that mean?

Soon the bell rang, ending morning self‑study.

Now I had to go back to class to prepare for the lesson—but homeroom hadn’t come.

My arm hurt so much I wanted to let it down.

Then the PE teacher approached.

“Cheonmyeong, go on up.”

“But homeroom teacher hasn’t…”

“He’s talking with the principal. They said a high schooler protesting is inappropriate, so you must apologize unconditionally.”

“Yes, sir.”

One of my favorite teachers at our school.

I only added the honorific “nim” to teachers who taught history, earth science, and PE.

“I’ll talk to him, so head back to class. And this is a secret, but I’m winning against the teacher of Class 8.”

“Thank you.”

I lowered my arm and went back up to class.

The atmosphere was noisy.

Ji Jeongseok ran over when he saw me.

“What did homeroom say?”

“Just had to stand for punishment, that’s all.”

“Did the mad dog not bite you?”

“He just barked.”

“Figures. You’re top of the class, so he can’t treat you recklessly.”

Class president Oh Man-seok and vice president Choi Hyeong-chang seemed scared of me and didn’t even glance my way.

As I walked to my seat, my eyes met Wang Dohun’s.

He quickly lowered his gaze.

“Wang Dohun!”

I walked up to him at his seat in the front row.

“What’s with you? Are you scared of a friend?”

“…No.”

“Look at me.”

“Huh?”

Wang Dohun was completely intimidated.

His midterm score was second in class, fourth in the whole school.

It seemed he couldn’t accept being second in class even if he was fourth overall.

According to Yang Seok-gu, he felt a sense of fear knowing I ranked first in the school even after being suspended.

I patted Wang Dohun on the shoulder.

“We’re friends, right? Let’s get along.”

“Uh? Uh… yeah.”

“Man, why are you so tense?”

Wang Dohun’s hand, holding a mechanical pencil, was trembling.

How did such a spineless guy lead a conservative reform movement?

Even in Gangnam, getting elected three times in a row means he had political talent.

What kind of turning point would cause this guy to change?

I suddenly wanted to see it unfold.

“Dohun, let’s grab ramen sometime.”

“Yeah… sure.”

I patted Wang Dohun’s head and sat down.

My seatmate, Ji Jeongseok, stared at me blankly.

“Why are you being nice to Dohun? You guys aren’t even close.”

“I have my reasons.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll find out later.”

I was so mentally overwhelmed that I didn’t even realize how class time passed.

Would reporters come to school?

What if they were waiting in front of the house?

Thankfully, it was all just anxiety.

As protests intensified nationwide, my article completely faded from attention.

The house felt heavy with no news of my older brother.

Mom and Dad trudged through their hard days, and Yeonhwa and Kang Dae-myeong each kept to their routines.

It felt like everything had frozen at some moment in the past, like a watch missing a gear.

Sunday morning.

Yeonhwa was studying at the table with the radio on.

She had bought a 5,000-won transistor radio with the money I got from the reporter.

“Does the radio work well?”

“Yeah. Even without a TV, it’s nice having this.”

“Keep studying. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To meet a friend.”

“Come back safe.”

Today was the day I’d meet Woo Ah-mi.

A few days ago, I looked up ‘Ami Pipe Trading’ in the phonebook and called.

Woo Ah-mi’s father remembered me. I didn’t know why, but he liked me.

“If you have time, drop by. I’ll buy you jjajangmyeon.”

I had no idea what about me he liked.

Anyway, he gave me their home number, and I spoke with her.

She said she wanted to get some air, so we made plans.

“Hyung-ah, where are you going?”

I ran into Kang Dae-myeong in front of the bus stop.

“I have plans. Where are you going?”

“Heading to the arcade. Hyung-ah.”

His scratching head and lowered eyes were familiar behavior.

It meant he wanted to ask for something.

The arcade where one game cost 50 won.

I pulled out a 500 won bill from my pocket.

Although coins were in use now, the arcade still accepted the old bills.

“Have fun. If anyone tries to take your money, tell me.”

“Since hyung-ah is good at fighting, no one bullies me anymore.”

“Have a good time.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Kang Dae-myeong ran off excitedly toward the arcade.

Just then, a bus heading to Yeouido arrived.

It was hot.

I opened the bus window, and the cool breeze made me feel much lighter.

Woo Ah-mi was waiting in front of the Twin Buildings.

“Ami-ya, you came early.”

“I had an appointment in Sinchon, but it ended early.”

“Did you wait long?”

“Ten minutes. Are you okay?”

“What?”

“They said you were tortured at the police station?”

Rumors always snowball.

“It wasn’t torture. I just got hit a few times.”

“Still, those police officers are really bad. But are you already protesting?”

“No. I went to find my big brother, who goes to Yeonje University.”

“Your family must be full of smart people. You’re doing well too.”

“You just have to stick to the textbook.”

“Oh my! Hahaha. That’s funny.”

When Woo Ah-mi laughed, my gloomy mood lifted completely.

Her smile was really pretty.

We sat on a bench with a view of the Han River.

The sunlight sparkled on the water like silver scales.

“What’s your dream?”

A sudden question out of nowhere.

In my past life, my final dream had been to become president.

But it was different now.

Back then, I craved power only after having everything else.

Now, I just wanted to give my struggling family a comfortable life.

So all I thought about was making a lot of money.

If I used my past life’s memories, I could earn as much as I wanted.

The first step was to get into Hanguk University.

In business, personal connections are everything.

“I haven’t thought about it in detail yet. For now, getting into Hanguk University is my goal.”

“Wow! You’re so cool.”

“What do you mean?”

“Having a goal is cool. Especially getting into a top university!”

“You have a goal too.”

“Wearing a uniform?”

“That’s a great goal too.”

Woo Ah-mi smiled brightly at me.

“Alright! Let’s definitely achieve our goals. Promise!”

“Huh?”

“Give me your hand.”

Woo Ah-mi pulled my hand, hooked her pinky with mine, and stamped it with her thumb.

“Your face is turning red. You’re more innocent than you look.”

“No, it’s not that…”

A bunch of words floated in my head, but I couldn’t choose one.

Maybe because it was my first time holding a high school girl’s hand?

I didn’t know why my heart was pounding like crazy.

“You’re charming.”

Woo Ah-mi’s eyes sparkled, and I had to look away.

I suddenly stood up.

“Let’s take a walk.”

“Okay.”

The sun was harsh, so the blush on my face didn’t fade easily.

We walked along the river, talking about so many things.

School life, stories about friends, books.

We connected surprisingly well. Our interests, values, and outlooks on life.

The wife I had in my past life had been the daughter of a Supreme Court Justice, and it was a political marriage.

It was a relationship born out of necessity, not love. Naturally, we became a show-window couple.

* * *

So feelings like the ones I had now felt truly special to me.

After meeting Woo Ah-mi, I focused even more on studying.

For the sake of my family, and to keep my promise to Woo Ah-mi, I had to get into Hanguk University.

That intense summer passed, and when ginkgo leaves began to tumble through the streets—

I heard the news that my oldest brother had been arrested.