TILY Chapter 1

My dad was a boxer. 79 kg, light-heavyweight. Korea champion.

“Traitor! Urgh……”

“Murderer bastard! Lock this fucker in the underground dungeon!”

“I-I’m Na-ro……”

“No way……”

Including me, the boxer’s son, all five of us were sitting in a circle by the pond behind the school at the moment. The pale-faced kid was squatting in the middle, sniffling and crying.

We all pinched him, whacked his skull, jabbed his sides, and glared daggers.

Na-ro sat there like a baby bird fallen from its nest, crying even harder until his eyes were swollen shut.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. You guys are the bad ones! Teac-hee-hee…… sob.”

None of us could believe the confession Na-ro had just spewed. We didn’t want to believe the little sparrow sniffling like he’d been beaten was our traitor.

Ah, if only we’d never found out.

I, the son of the Korean champion, now had the dishonor of being best friends with the biggest traitor under the heavens.

First, I called out to him politely.

“Na-ro-ya?”

“…Y-yeah? Sob sob.”

“Is that true? If you say it’s a joke right now, you’ll only get hit twice. It’s a joke, right? Right?”

I took a deep breath. It looked like I needed to confirm the kill.

This incident was something I could never believe, no, something I never wanted to believe.

“Speak already, Na-ro-ya? It’s a joke, right?”

“No way.”

“What do you mean ‘no way,’ you little shit!”

“Uw aaaah!”

I raised my hand high. Pretended I was going to smack him. Just a fake-out pose.

Na-ro flailed wildly and quickly hugged his own skull with both arms. When no impact came, he peeked up.

I glared at him.

At that moment, our eyes met. Na-ro blinked his round eyes and awkwardly tried to act cute.

“You little—”

I’d been sitting awkwardly because my ass still throbbed from falling during soccer. I rolled my eyes so hard the whites showed twice as much. I poured power into my glare: confess already, say that evil thing you just admitted was a joke.

“D-don’t do that, Daero-ya. It’s true.”

“Traitor! Let’s hang this bastard!”

“Murderer! Let’s show him what prison tastes like!”

Except for the stunned Duga, Ri, and Maeum-i pounced on Na-ro right away. Both were insanely pissed.

Maeum-i rolled up his uniform jacket sleeves and grabbed Na-ro’s hair like an angry hole-in-the-wall shop lady.

“You cursed rat?! Fine. I’ll let it slide! But why the hell did it have to be Prosecutor Jo of all people?”

“I don’t know! Did I do it on purpose?! Ouch!……”

When Maeum-i got really mad, he called Na-ro “rat.” When Na-ro listened well, ran errands, and just quietly followed us around with his mouth shut, he was super cute, so we called him baby mouse or baby sparrow.

Maeum-i yelled like he was about to head-butt Na-ro’s tiny skull.

“Don’t know my ass! How closely did you observe that Prosecutor Jo bastard to find him lovable?!”

“Don’t call him a bastard.”

Na-ro snapped back fiercely.

“He’s our teacher. Hmph!”

“What did you saaaay?”

“You can’t insult the Teacher. A student shouldn’t do that.”

“Hey, you vile murderer! The worm-infested underground dungeon is waiting for you!”

Western-movie maniac Maeum-i, when his anger gauge hit max, spewed curses like that. By that metric, we were all vile murderers and ex-cons to Maeum-i.

Na-ro, already cursed three times today, trembled because his heart was weak.

“Uwaaaa… Teacher? Teacher Jo! Save me…”

“Shut up!”

“Quiet!”

“Mommy! Save me, save me! Teacher Jooo…!”

Ri and Maeum-i grabbed Na-ro’s neck and shook him hard. Maeum-i yanked his hair. Ri bit Na-ro’s head like a mouse gnawing cheese.

When Na-ro burst into loud sobs, Duga stood up with a THUD THUD, grabbed Ri and Maeum-i one by one, and tossed them behind me. Ri and Maeum-i went “Kyaa!” and flattened onto the ground.

Duga was the middle-school wrestling king. His neck, legs, and forearms were as thick as my waist.

“Na-ro-ya?”

“Yeah? Hic……”

Duga wiped the tears of the sparrow with torn wings, patted his back gently, and spoke.

“Na-ro-ya, I get how you feel, but Teacher Jo is really scary. He hits us all the time.”

“Eeeeng.”

“I got hit again earlier.”

“You just got a forehead flick, Duga.”

Ri shouted sulkily.

“I got my palms whacked! Super hard, WHACK WHACK!”

“Me too. Tch.”

Ri and Maeum-i, sprawled on the grass, swallowed their resentment.

Duga, Ri, and Maeum-i had all been caught by Prosecutor Jo during morning assembly today. Their junk scooter rattled, so they were late.

“My skull got cracked. Brutally.”

I couldn’t stay silent either.

After the first period, Prosecutor Jo aimed precisely at my forehead and smashed the attendance book down.

Reason? Apparently, my bowing angle to the teacher was absolutely insufficient.

Even when I politely explained I couldn’t help it because of my cervical disc, Prosecutor Jo showed no mercy and struck anyway.

At the start of the semester, when I’d desperately stood up to our grandfather for my own reasons, Prosecutor Jo later noticed, dragged me to the counseling room disguised as a torture chamber, and beat me until my scalp peeled and my spine nearly snapped. He flashed his shoes menacingly and interrogated whether I was rebelling.

Therefore, I had to soothe Na-ro. Very softly, like cotton fluff, with a gentle voice. The kid was naturally timid, so I had to stroke his tiny skull lightly and comfort him well.

“Na-ro-ya?”

“Yeah.”

Na-ro looked up at me with teary, bead-sized eyes sparkling.

“As you know, we and Prosecutor Jo… aren’t exactly on good terms.”

“You guys don’t listen to the Teacher, that’s why. Hmph!”

“Death by hanging for the traitor! Fall into the hellfire pit and be judged—… kyaa.”

Maeum-i, trying to pounce again, got lifted by the waist by Duga and thrown onto the grass a second time.

Yeah.

To tell the truth, the four of us got beaten every single day.

All of us, in unison—except Han Aro and me, Na Daero—got psychologically pummeled to the point our lungs could’ve burst by our homeroom teacher, Prosecutor Jo. Precisely with short, clean blows.

Still, getting beaten like that was bearable.

He wasn’t going to kill us, right?

We had decent stamina and sturdy bones as high-school dudes, so we just had to grit our teeth, turn a blind eye, and endure three years.

But once we graduated and became strangers, we comforted ourselves thinking we’d tie that tall, slim body tight with rope, weigh a sack with rocks, and PLUNK! Into the well. Of course, surviving until then was the premise.

But then what the hell?

Today, that little bastard, worse than a germ, Han Aro, came sidling up to us during lunch break, face flushed, and whispered,

“Hey, guys…? I-I’m just gonna run to the faculty office real quick. I have a question for Teacher Choi. The lesson just now, I didn’t really get it… Uh, what was it again… Hehe.”

He flashed a bashful grin and hid something behind his back.

The four of us were shirtless, covered in dust and sweat.

The previous period was PE. We’d spent all fifty minutes sprinting around the field like madmen, kicking the ball. Na-ro had sat in the shade the whole time, claiming he had no energy.

Yet—yeah—not Korean, English, math, or even art, but how the hell did Han Aro, of all subjects, suddenly develop an academic question during Blockhead Choi Bong-dal’s PE class? Suspicion struck.

“Mommy! Uwaaaa……”

Only after Duga reluctantly grabbed his shoulders, Ri tickled him, and Maeum-i bit both his arms did Na-ro finally show us what he’d hidden behind his back. Tears streaming, he reluctantly revealed it.

We immediately went into self-censorship mode.

And then,

“W-what the hell is this? You rat, you……”

Ri screamed in horror.

What Na-ro had hidden was a gorgeous three-tier lunchbox prepared like a chef’s masterpiece.

That part was actually fine. Totally no problem—good things are good.

Anything delicious and pretty-looking in front of us eternally hungry bastards was win-win.

But when Maeum-i peeked inside, he covered his mouth like he’d seen a dead mouse in the soup. Ri shut his eyes in shock. The reaction of someone who’d seen something way too childish to behold.

We’d all seen this kind of thing in comics before. On top of white rice, green beans are arranged into something similar.

<Teacher, I love you ♡ Na-ro>

That’s why we instantly scooped Na-ro up and dragged him here during lunch break for a pond-side interrogation.

Inevitably, during the interrogation, there was some light skull-whacking as a side dish, and when tough measures didn’t work, we tried soothing and coaxing, until finally we decided to give the self-lost baby sparrow Na-ro a mental evaluation on the question: <Who the hell am I?>

The expert was me.

“Han Aro?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a first-year high schooler now.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re my ball-buddy.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I rolled my eyes into full white-eye mode and stepped closer to Na-ro.

Na-ro flinched and backed away.

I stepped closer still. When I glare like this, Na-ro gets totally spooked.

I shoved my face right up to his until our noses almost touched and growled.

“Han Aro, you’re the only son of the Han family.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s no other male in your house except you.”

“Yeah.”

The sound of paper crumpling CRINKLE CRINKLE between my brows.

“Our homeroom teacher is Prosecutor Jo.”

“Yeah.”

“His nickname is Prosecutor Jo because he’s a professional thug-hunter.”

“…Mm-hmm.”

“And because his personality is insanely tough and vicious, his nickname is Prosecutor Jo.”

“…”

I pinched Na-ro’s chin between thumb and forefinger like tongs and lifted it.

“You’re a guy.”

“Yeah.”

“That Prosecutor Jo bastard is also a guy.”

“Stop calling him a bastard! That’s rude to the Teacher!”

The sound of two sheets of paper crumpling CRINKLE CRINKLE between my brows.

“Shhh… Prosecutor Jo is also a guy.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not ‘yeah,’ you little shit!”

“Mommy! Uwaaaa!”

I, the son of the champion boxer, stepped back.

Even though I’d never once hit him, Na-ro burst into tears the moment I raised my fist for a forehead flick. His pretty face turned hideous like a water-soaked pumpkin.

Na-ro’s heart was so soft, so innocent, so stupid—my lifelong, one-and-only headache of a ball-buddy. My Na Daero’s ball-buddy¹.

Ah, if this kid were my girlfriend, I would’ve kissed him tons already. Damn, I can’t do this or that with this guy.

Yeah, while your dignified childhood friends get beaten to soreness every day, you’re telling me you have a crush on that evil Prosecutor Jo bastard right now?

Shhh.

 

That was three days ago.

We still thought, no way, no way. If Na-ro had eyes, ears, and a nose, he’d feel sorry for us getting our joints crushed every day by Prosecutor Jo, living our fragile youth in misery, and since he had a conscience, he’d snap out of it soon. We believed he’d realize that Prosecutor Jo’s un-teacher-like behavior—lightly flicking his suit tail while landing perfect one-two blows to our vitals—wasn’t cool.

When Prosecutor Jo raised one eyebrow and gave that icy smile, it wasn’t because we were lovable, cute students, but because he saw us as gum stuck to the sole of his shoe about to be crushed. Dear Na-ro, whom do I love? Please know this truth.

So we kept thinking, no way, no way.

But then…

“Hey! Prosecutor Jo’s coming. Everyone shut up!”

It was our class president. No one would believe he was class president just from his speech.

Today was Prosecutor Jo’s birthday.

“Teacher Jo is coming. Everyone, be quiet.”

The bespectacled vice-president snapped irritably, translating the president’s words.

The president, bursting with excitement, dashed through the front door and shouted,

“Tuna? Keep a good lookout!”

Tuna, who ate canned tuna every lunch, hung from the window frame at the front and watched for Prosecutor Jo.

The vice-president, glaring at the president, yelled coldly at Maeum-i.

“Han Maeum, stop touching that balloon. It’ll pop. Hurry back to your seat.”

“Ey, balloon, noona? That’s an insult. It’s clearly Mr. Condom. Hehe.”

Maeum-i sat with Na-ro in the middle, giggling with Ri while blowing condoms. Na-ro’s face turned even redder.

The picky, delicate vice-president—called “noona”—threw an empty cola can at Maeum-i.

“Aww, kneading this gets me excited. I wanna try it once. Haa…”

“I can go three times in a row?”

“Where’s this liar coming from? I can do four. Hehe.”

The whole class chattered. Everyone laughed awkwardly, brimming with energy.

Surrounded by madly inflated condom balloons for Prosecutor Jo’s birthday, we were extremely excited.

“There’s this story.”

Sitting at the very back, I suddenly opened my mouth.

The kids turned, ears perked. The vice-president’s ears stood even higher.

“In some village lived a dim-witted kid named Sunny. He dragged his family’s mare to the neighbor’s ranch for breeding. The little punk strutted in his best clothes. The stud owner’s daughter was a super pretty girl named Suzie. Total fox.”

Maeum-i snickered like a mouse.

Na-ro grinned the moment Sunny’s name came up.

“Anyway, Sunny brings the mare, and Suzie’s home alone. She asks if he’s here for breeding and tells him to follow her. Sunny’s face turns beet red, but he puts the mare in the pen for breeding. The stud was a powerhouse, pent-up, and went to town on the mare. Did it multiple times without rest. Sunny and Suzie watched the whole thing. Suddenly, Sunny starts fidgeting like crazy. Super flustered, pacing outside the fence, breathing heavy.”

Ri and Maeum-i covered their mouths and poked each other. Jo Rak, leaning on his chair, turned his head slightly toward me.

“The stud went at it like mad. Worn the mare out completely. Then Sunny suddenly curses, glances at Suzie, and says, ‘Damn! I’d have no regrets if I got to do it once!’ Suzie, sitting on the fence, answers without batting an eye, super puzzled, ‘Then why don’t you do it once? It’s your family’s mare anyway?’ ”

“Ahahaha!”

“Sunny couldn’t say a word. Face turned super red. Because the guy was impotent.”

“Wahahaha!”

“Sunny was impotent! Impotent! Woohoo.”

The whole class giggled like laughing mice. The president rolled on the floor.

TING, another empty can thrown by the vice-president flew and hit the center of my skull.

“Na Daero, stop spreading false information.”

The vice-president glared at me like stabbing with a mechanical pencil tip.

“You’ll get sued for defamation by Sunny?”

“False information? Oops, forgot. Correction: Sunny wasn’t just impotent; he was congenitally impotent. Mutant gene.”

“Wahahahaha!”

“Hey, hey! Blow the balloons already. Prosecutor Jo’s coming!”

The president, choking with tears, yelled at us.

The kids pulled out the condoms they’d tried to hide and kept blowing.

The clever class president came up with this childish idea.

The one who brought the condoms was, of course, the silent tough guy Jo Rak. Terrifying ex-Seoul gangster.

At first, the president demanded condoms from me outright, but I fiercely protested that I was the champion boxer’s son, not some delinquent punk. The president tried to beat me into it, glaring, then went to Jo Rak.

Jo Rak, who always shot me dirty looks, stared into space with a sour face, then suddenly reached into his uniform inner pocket and pulled out a huge handful of condoms. He threw them at the ceiling.

“Wooooaaaah—!”

Like a blessing from heaven, a rain of condoms poured PATTER PATTER PATTER.

Ri and Maeum-i screamed in joy, rushed over, and grabbed three or four each. Stuffed two in their pockets, then whistled innocently at the ceiling.

From then on, we blew condom balloons like mad.

Na-ro fidgeted with a condom, face turning redder. Couldn’t meet my eyes.

Jo Rak’s sharp eyes softened a bit, seeing the class blushing and freaking out.

“He’s here!”

Tuna yelled in the voice he used when opening tuna cans.

We all got even more excited and scanned the classroom. On the blackboard, in full color and huge letters:

<Beloved Teacher Jo, Happy Birthday! Age 18! (+ just 10) ^ㅁ^>

That was the official, formal message. Behind the colorful one, in tiny, shy-but-sincere letters you couldn’t see without a magnifying glass:

<When will Prosecutor Jo retire early? For that day!–>

<How much is Prosecutor Jo’s salary? Someone paid millions to send him elsewhere. Please.–;>

<Hyung Jo, stop tormenting us. Where’d your age go?-_-;;>

<Hyung, we’re both guys, let’s not do this. Be nice like me. ^3^>

<Thug-hunting Prosecutor Jo is actually the thug.>

At that moment, I looked at Na-ro.

It was some kind of telepathy. While everyone was excitedly kneading flour bags or firecrackers under desks to throw at Prosecutor Jo, Na-ro suddenly started shaking hard. Some instinct made me catch it right then.

Na-ro clutched his chest, panting like a breathless baby sparrow, glancing nervously at the front door. His face was so red it looked like it’d burst like a ripe tomato if poked.

‘Na-ro-ya.’

I put down the flour bag I was about to throw and stared at him.

Na-ro was excited in a way that was different from usual. This was definitely…

‘Oh, no way.’

One thought hit me like lightning; I almost flipped my desk.

POP! POP! POP!

“Uwaaaa, Teacher? Happy birthday! Hyung-niiim!”

At that moment, the front door opened silently. Today’s star, Prosecutor Jo, appeared in the doorway. Tall, slim, movements incredibly sharp.

Pew!

Pew!

POP! POP! POP! POP!

The second they saw Prosecutor Jo’s face, the guys were too scared to throw flour and just kept setting off firecrackers. Trying desperately to get on the evil Prosecutor Jo’s good side, dying to see that devil smile just once, they set off firecrackers like crazy. For our homeroom teacher bastard Jo Gyeol, who turned 28 today.

STEP STEP.

Prosecutor Jo walked expressionlessly to the podium as if our classroom were a courtroom.

We scrutinized his clean face, hoping that since Jo Gyeol wasn’t a beast but a human, he’d find our cuteness adorable and at least smile, but Jo Gyeol’s mood was twisted. Badly.

Huh?

We all inwardly spat thick suspicion.

Why the hell was his face like that again?

Did he try to kill himself with pesticide but fail, leaving a bitter taste in his throat?

If not, why the hell was he making that foul face?

“Thank you. Impressive. Childish, though.”

“N-no problem at all. Hee…”

“Of course, we have to celebrate the Teacher’s birthday. Hahaha…”

The guys still tried to butter him up. Even at that formal reply, they felt hugely relieved inside and grinned like idiots. Cold sweat pouring down their backs, yet grinning like fools.

But Prosecutor Jo didn’t even glance at the gifts on the podium and slowly raised his eyes. Like a lighthouse sweeping the night sea, he scanned the room from right to left.

“However…”

Prosecutor Jo’s clear eyes coldly swept over us, still awkwardly acting cute and smiling.

-!

And right then, I saw it clearly. Prosecutor Jo’s eyes.

There was definitely murder in those eyes. At least I caught it. At least me, Duga, and the perpetually sour-faced Jo Rak caught it.

A month ago, when I first saw Prosecutor Jo at that podium, I’d thought for a first-year homeroom teacher transferred to this rural school, he was young, handsome, cool, a guy even I, with high standards, thought was stylish and dashing. Huge mistake. I truly had no idea back then that Prosecutor Jo would be this vicious.

Prosecutor Jo glared at the silent class.

At that moment, a strand of black hair fell slightly over his straight forehead, and I definitely witnessed it. Prosecutor Jo is smirking like a devil.

‘He did it again.’

The guy I instinctively turned to look at again was Na-ro. Na-ro was shaking like he’d faint.

I sensed it early. Na-ro had caused trouble again. I could tell by my sixth sense.

Because the five of us, especially Na-ro and I, had shared thick and thin for seventeen years like brothers.

I even knew Na-ro changed his underwear twice a day. Na-ro would never tell me, but I knew exactly how many pairs he had with those weird bunny pictures.

‘You’re about to cause trouble, too.’

I immediately looked back at Prosecutor Jo, and sure enough, our dear Prosecutor Jo declared,

“Apparently, one of you dared to mock me. On the birthday of the teacher you should respect, no less.”

-!

Prosecutor Jo pulled something out of the attendance book. His cold face was full of a sneer.

He held up a fresh, green piece of paper. Of course, I’d seen that paper before.

“Who among you dared to pull this insulting stunt on your homeroom teacher’s birthday?”

The front-row kids who went “Huh?” and widened their eyes at the paper soon screamed “Hiiiik!” in bizarre horror.

At first, they looked confused, not knowing what it was. Then they read the letter. Their hair stood on end so much that I could see it from my seat. Maeum-i, in the third row, covered his mouth with both hands.

“Teacher, I love you. I want to marry you. Hehe. Dream of me, okay? From your lovely, adorable student **. Mwah mwah ♡”

‘And a heart at the end,’ Prosecutor Jo finished reading the letter clearly, word by word, then raised his head.

Finally, the moment had come. Showtime.

“Insolent little shit.”

Prosecutor Jo pinched the letter between two fingers like trash, tore it RRRIP in half, and tossed it on the classroom floor.

“Which cute little bastard is it? Which moron is mocking me with this childish crap?”

“Hiiiik!”

Every kid whose eyes met Prosecutor Jo’s shook their heads left and right like their necks would break. Silently pleading for their lives. Not me, I have a girl I like, I wanted to shout. The teacher is highly respectable, but you are too far to love.

The guys’ heads shaking wildly in every direction looked a bit grotesque, like those spring-necked decorative dogs that never stop wobbling.

Prosecutor Jo snorted.

“It’s someone from our class, I hear. There’s a witness. The Korean teacher said she can’t reveal the name, but as you know, it’s only a matter of time. Confess.”

Na-ro trembled BUZZ BUZZ. Legs, body, arms shaking separately like a marionette on strings, rattling the desk.

Maeum-i still covered his mouth. Duga in the next row secretly signaled me with his eyes. Ri, Na-ro’s seatmate, glanced at Na-ro’s pale blue face, groaned, and shut his eyes.

We all knew who the culprit was. We knew which damn bunny-eared bastard had caused this disaster and put us in dire straits.

Yesterday, while we were hanging out in front of the stationery store that sold kids’ eyeball candy, Na-ro came out holding fresh green letter paper, saw us, got startled, and hurriedly stuffed it into his bag.

“Won’t confess honestly? Fine. Then let’s all count to three together. After three, we’ll play a bat game. That was fun, right?”

We hated bats. Just like we hated Prosecutor Jo, we hated that bat game.

The bat game meant that all of us had to do handstands on the bare floor. Legs shoot up to the ceiling, uniform jackets fall over our faces, and we look exactly like bats.

Most human bats couldn’t even hang properly from the ceiling before losing balance and wobbling. Then they inevitably crashed to the floor because Prosecutor Jo kicked their sides with his shoes.

“I’ll count to three.”

Prosecutor Jo flashed a cold sneer and spat in an icy voice.

“One.”

Idiot Na-ro.

“Two.”

Don’t cry, Na-ro.

“Three—”

“It’s me.”

My face stung. Every gaze in the room stabbed into me.

Even the vice-president who’d been standing straight in front of Prosecutor Jo turned around in shock.

Jo Rak let out an uncharacteristic curse. The usually silent guy glared at me in surprise.

But that lasted only a moment; I couldn’t take my eyes off Prosecutor Jo. Those pitch-black eyes shining ice-blue cold were piercing my skull.

“Say that again.”

“It’s me, Teacher. I sent that letter.”

I wanted this incident to end with just me. I didn’t want the innocent guys to end up doing the bat game because of stupid, naive Na-ro.

Na-ro, shocked by my words, turned to me with eyes full of tears.

Ri grabbed him as he tried to stand up in tears and reach for me. Watching me, Ri quickly covered Na-ro’s mouth.

“No tricks. Tell the truth, Na Daero. Who is it?”

My dad was a boxer.

79 kg light-heavyweight, Korea champion.

The one who made him champion was me.

I was his durable sparring partner.

“It’s me. I didn’t expect you to get this angry, though…”

Prosecutor Jo tapped the podium with the corner of the attendance book, glaring as if telling me to continue.

“I love you, Teacher.”

I said it calmly. Staring straight into Prosecutor Jo’s eyes.

And inside, I muttered.

‘Why are you glaring at me when I say I love you?’

‘We’re practically enemies, yet I’m doing this—how much more do you need?’

‘No matter how vicious a teacher you are, how can you have zero sense of humor?’

‘Don’t you feel sorry for that bunny Na-ro grinding his teeth and turning blue?’

“Come out.”

Prosecutor Jo jerked his chin.

Of course, he knew. My desperate paradox.

That’s why he couldn’t miss this golden chance to beat me senseless again. Because he’s vicious.

I stood up and strode to the front.

Through the open window, warm spring sunlight and gentle spring breeze blew in, ruffling my long hair.

What happened next can’t be explained blow by blow. The round bell rang DING DING DING, and I got KO’d by Prosecutor Jo in the first round. I, the son of a champion boxer, KO’d. Shit.

Prosecutor Jo, let me say it again,

You really aren’t human.