Eighteen’s Bed Novel Completed - Chapter 22 A Flipped Palm

Han Junwoo was dead.

Not literally dead, but the very existence of Han Junwoo had died within this pyramid.

The school was in an uproar. Now, it was erased by hundreds of sneaker marks and the sand dust they kicked up, but just a few hours ago, curved tire tracks remained on the playground.

When the jarring sirens pierced our ears, all the students rushed to the windows. Dull, lifeless eyes, like dried pollack at a fish market, densely covered the windows. The school was so noisy that the shouts of kids from the next class flowed into ours through the windows.

“What is it, what’s going on?”

“Don’t you know? You idiot, there was a fight in the next class.”

“What! Who?”

“That guy, Han Junwoo and Go Yohan.”

“Wow, damn it… That’s insane. Why didn’t I see it?”

We were high school students. A period perched at the end of adolescence. Simultaneously, it was a time when we shed our extremely delicate, self-loving individualistic emotions, felt endless shame for our past selves, and became enthusiastic about simple, violent, and explosive emotions, so such a reaction was natural.

“Hey, is anyone here close with a guy in the next class? Weren’t those two close? How did they fight?”

“Haven’t you heard the rumors about Han Junwoo?”

Our class was a mix of guys who felt a thrill at being the subject of rumors, those who humbly accepted the downfall, and those who enjoyed the pleasure of being on the side of victory. Outside the window, a white ambulance stood. For the next thirty minutes, the biggest gossip in school was who had called that ambulance. We were well aware of the speed at which rumors spread in a five-story, closed private high school.

So, who won?

Those who heard the truth of the incident weren’t worried about the two students who were so badly injured they had to be taken away in an ambulance. Instead, they rejoiced that a wish, made lightly but strangely earnestly at the beginning of the semester, had come true.

Go Yohan.

In the first place, the winner of such a fight is often ambiguous. This tendency was even more pronounced in fights where only two people faced off. However, in the fight that had just occurred, all circumstances favored Go Yohan. Moreover, the rumors that had spread previously further cemented Han Junwoo’s defeat.

In the filthy hallways of the all-boys high school, words like these were exchanged:

“Turns out Han Junwoo is gay.”

“What? Wasn’t he popular with girls?”

“Damn it! Hey! That’s all lies! They say he was actually just after asses. All the kids he bullied got ‘penetrated.’ It’s terrifying, truly terrifying. And his family has a lot of money, right? What can’t you do if you have money? Damn it. Just go to a brothel and it’s over.”

“Wow. Damn. I didn’t think Han Junwoo was like that, but he’s a slut.”

“Heh heh. Wow. I wish I’d been born with a silver spoon too. Even gays go to brothels. But isn’t China a bit cheap? They say our school trip is going to China. Can we sneak out during free time? Wanna go?”

The conversation ended not with Han Junwoo, but with some shabby, cheap brothel somewhere in China. Yet, in that short exchange, Han Junwoo’s honor was butchered a dozen times and ultimately murdered. The number of these murders multiplied by the number of students in the school.

After his defeat by Go Yohan, Han Junwoo truly became a piece of trash. As if his fall had been awaited.

The classroom was weighing between coolness and passion. Everyone’s eyes darted back and forth, ticking between the red reference points. The back of the classroom floor was still stained dark red. It must have dried by now, but it felt as if blood would still seep out if you pressed it.

The fragile homeroom teacher, who I expected to burst into tears immediately upon seeing the accident scene, reacted unexpectedly. The next period was self-study, and the classroom, which had been buzzing with a hot topic that had been flapping around just moments ago, fell silent and cold with the teacher’s appearance. As soon as the teacher entered, he threw the objects he was holding onto the floor, smashing them, and let out a high-pitched shriek that pierced our ears.

“What the hell is wrong with you all?! You, you, you, damn brats! Am I that much of a joke? Why do you live your lives like that? Stop it. Stop it! Why are you so noisy during self-study? Is this the time for you to be noisy? Next year you’re third-years! Third-years! Please listen to me and stop causing trouble! Do you know I have to take responsibility for everything you do! I shouldn’t have come to a boys’ high school. I didn’t even want to come to a place like this. I feel like I’m going crazy. If you live like that, what else will you become but trash? Aren’t you sorry to your parents? And how many times do I have to tell you not to make noise during self-study before you understand!”

If most sensible people saw a weak and gentle person suddenly get angry, it would be normal for them to observe the situation and shut up. However, an all-boys high school is a place where various types of deficient human beings gather. There are those who deviate from common sense, those who haven’t escaped their pathetic middle school puberty, and those who, despite studying the same, are inherently so dull-witted that they commit idiotic acts. Our classroom alone is a prime example.

“Oh, oh- Teacher’s mad. He’s mad! Don’t be mad!”

“Teacher’s funny when he’s mad.”

The guy sitting in the very back, near the hallway, said this, and the guy sitting in front of me whispered softly.

“You, you bastard! What? Do you think I’m a joke right now?! You, come out. Come out here to the front!”

“Oh, come on. Why are you like this?”

“Come out, you brat!”

The teacher threw the attendance book. It flew between the desks, hit the corner of a desk in the third row, and fell to the floor. The attendance book, having lost its gravity, made a loud noise.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Just this once, please? Huh?”

He was still grinning, showing no sign of remorse. It was always some mediocre kid, neither popular nor unpopular, who pulled stunts like this. Clumsy kids always act out. They put on a brave front, acting tough. But only they don’t know that their bravado is the most awkward and pathetic thing in the world.

“Come out. Or should I come over there?”

“Ah, Teacher! That’s too much! Seriously!”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, the teacher told you to go out.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. Unable to hold back, I spoke. The class’s gaze turned to me, and I, unconcerned, scanned the pathetic display. In truth, their monkeying around was so funny I almost snorted. I quite like situations like this.

The reason I, who isn’t good at fighting and doesn’t pretend to be strong with delinquent bravado, can sit in such a high position in this jungle is because I’ve made these kids my prey.

“Hey, Kang Jun. Why are you suddenly getting serious?”

“You’re the one who can’t read the room.”

Of course, this wasn’t a result achieved overnight. In the first year, during the period of establishing the pecking order at the beginning of the semester, there was bound to be resistance, but now, it was utterly delightful, like the spiral of silence theory.

“Right. Stop being noisy and just go out quickly. Ah, seriously, this bastard doesn’t know how to read the room. Can’t you see how serious this is right now?”

“If you’re sorry, then leave. Because of you, we’re suffering too, you crazy bastard.”

“Ah, what’s with him? Seriously. What the hell.”

I heard Kim Minho’s small voice muttering to the end. The confident expression he’d worn while teasing the teacher gradually faded like a dying ember. Overwhelmed by the class’s collective momentum, he finally got up and stood in front of the teacher. Look at that dead-mouse-like state.

I secretly twisted my lips into a smile. Han Junwoo had fallen. And the fact couldn’t make me happier. Perhaps that feeling originated from the fact that Han Junwoo had thrown a punch at me.

No, it was certain. I was feeling a kind of exhilaration. Honestly, it was a bit surprising. And I was thrilled by the power that had returned to me.

“Get out into the hallway right now!”

“……”

The teacher finally chased the noisy idiot out into the hallway, then placed one hand on the podium and silently endured his anger for a while. It was fortunate in many ways that his tone became much calmer, as if he had organized his thoughts. Then, he said he would call the students one by one to ask about the truth of the incident.

“I will definitely keep your secrets. So, I hope you will tell me the truth. Please don’t disappoint me. Please, I beg you.”

She seemed to be trying to hear a fair account, but the female teacher still seemed to misunderstand the pyramid world of men. After self-study ended, and the teacher, whose face was flushed red and who was catching his breath, disappeared, Lee Seokhyun closed the windows and the classroom door and warned everyone.

“Hey. Choose your words carefully. Decide properly whether it’s Go Yohan or the gay bastard who’ll remain in this school longer.”

“Han Junwoo hit first. You know that, right?”

Kim Minho added. Truly, what a magnificent friendship.

And Go Yohan returned to school in less than a week.

The returning Go Yohan boasted a jaw swollen purple. His nose seemed torn, with a plaster of bandages haphazardly stuck over a square-cut one. However, contrary to his miserable face, the aura emanating from him was more confident and arrogant than ever. He grinned, stretching his mouth wide, and tapped his now perfectly reattached canine tooth – which had been missing – with his index finger. I, too, let out a light laugh in return.

Immediately after the fight, Go Yohan casually got up on his own feet and walked to the ambulance. It was bizarre, but spectacularly flashy enough to cause a stir for days. I hurried to follow him. And before he entered the ambulance, I handed him a milk carton.

“This is yours. Say it fell on the floor, and ask them to disinfect it because you might get tetanus.”

At that moment, Go Yohan wiped his face with his left hand and looked at me. But the blood, already caked, wouldn’t wipe off. Honestly, half his face was smeared with solidified, orange-red blood, which wasn’t a pleasant sight. I was distracted by Go Yohan’s unusually small pupils fixed on my hand. Go Yohan opened his mouth in that state, and I, flustered, strained to hear.

“……I’ll contact you.”

A hand, stiff with dried blood, brushed my cheek. It was a truly sudden action.

“……Huh?”

I could only stand there blankly.

The text message that followed, fortunately, brought news that most of his nerves were alive and had been successfully reattached. And as soon as he returned, Go Yohan sat down in the seat next to me. When my original seatmate arrived, Go Yohan, without even looking, pointed to his own seat with his thumb. My seatmate sat in the empty spot without a word.

The bastard who had somehow ended up next to me quickly tapped my shoulder twice with his index and middle fingers, then suddenly said,

“It’s a gift.”

“What? What’s with the sudden…?”

“Stop talking and open your hand.”

I put down my mechanical pencil and spread my palm. At the same time, something was carefully placed on my hand. A rustling sensation remained in the center of my palm, making me feel strange. As the large hand that had been covering my palm lifted, what I saw was one broken tooth without a root, and one tooth with its root still intact.

What is this? The ends were strangely yellowish, and dark red colors were stuck all over these unidentified teeth. Confused, I looked at Go Yohan, who leaned back in his chair and sneered.

“Han Junwoo, I’ve made sure he’ll chew meat with fake teeth for the rest of his life.”

Hehehe. And he twisted his shoulders, laughing truly happily. Just like an innocent boy.

“Did you see?”

“……”

“I won.”

This crazy bastard.

It was truly Go Yohan who showed no sign of remorse. For a moment, I almost threw the teeth in my hand against the wall.

Go Yohan’s appearance stirred the school once again. Perhaps because he was the first protagonist to appear, his face looked surprisingly fine, and his demeanor showed no sign of the loser’s gloom.

Rumors of victory spread, mainly centered around the second-years. Most of the second-years also knew the truth of the rumors. For the first-years, it was merely an interesting issue from a distant grade, something they wanted to know but couldn’t unless they had a friend there. For the third-years, it was either a savory seasoning for their tiresome exam life or a rotten food additive that interfered with their studies. But for us, the second-years, it would be one of the biggest events to remember for a lifetime.