118
Such a Society is Unacceptable
The following year, autumn.
“Uncle? You don’t know how scary kids are these days? Huh?”
A thug, somewhat too large to be called a high school student. But legally a minor. A high school student whose name was officially on a school roster was walking toward me, pulling out a knife. His school is a mission school, but he has a skinhead, tattoos all over his body, and a knife scar on his face. I’m surprised a mission school accepted someone like him.
“I’ve lived without knowing, but I’ve been fine.”
I replied, twisting my neck back and forth. Last night during sex, I was on my stomach, and because Sebastian thrust for so long, I think my neck was bent for too long. At that time, I didn’t feel the pain because of hormones, whether adrenaline or dopamine, but when I woke up, it felt stiff—should I have stretched more?
The thug licked the surface of the knife with his tongue. He must have seen it somewhere. I couldn’t help but smile. Kids who genuinely do that have a deranged look in their eyes. There are guys like that. Do you know why they lick the knife surface? Because the metallic smell is similar to the smell of blood, which excites them more. You’re licking it without even knowing why they do it. You actually find the metallic smell disgusting, don’t you?
“You’re laughing?”
“I just wish you wouldn’t extort money at school… but that’s probably difficult, right?”
“You bastard!”
The thug charged at me.
It was an attack that clearly revealed a child’s problems. He hadn’t received proper training, and the materials he chose for self-study were always scenes from movies, dramas, and animations that prioritized style. Among such content, there are ones that value reality. Things worth using as textbooks. But these kids always put aside such things and choose something else.
Yes, they always hold the knife in reverse grip like that. Do they think anyone can do that? All weapons are designed to be easiest to apply force and control when held in the standard direction.
The most troublesome issue while avoiding the charging attacker was that he was a student. Civilian, minor, student. A triple axel of people you shouldn’t touch. So I had no choice but to grab his wrist. Normally, I would have just twisted it, but since his mother apparently neglects her son’s character development yet expects the world to tremble before her son, I had no choice but to properly grip his joint.
As I twisted his arm while pressing a point that was extremely painful but wouldn’t leave a mark, the thug began to scream, and his companions who had been snickering confidently now looked bewildered.
“Anyone who runs away will be hung at your school wearing only underwear, understand? Try running if you think I can’t do it.”
For these bullies, what matters most is appearance. The moment their image crumbles, they become nothing. Knowing this well, they hesitated, looking back and forth before finally giving up. One girl didn’t give up, so I kindly told her:
“Ah, for girls, I’ll hang you up with a bra too. But I guarantee you’ll become a social media star.”
At that moment, the girl immediately gave up. She made a good decision. I was serious.
These young ones had been roaming around, destroying many people, and one of them was my client’s son. He was bullied by them for two months before attempting suicide. Thanks to failing to die, his mother discovered his situation. His mother was the branch manager of a famous foreign company in Rotman, and his father was a university professor. The child, who had been living abroad with his mother, came to Rotman with her appointment. His mother was delighted, she said. Finally, the family could be together. But for the child, it was the beginning of a nightmare.
The parents didn’t send him to an international school, insisting that as a Rotman person, he should attend a Rotman school. The child’s Rotman language was insufficient since he had been abroad for a long time. This became the pretext for him to be bullied, but the child hid this fact from his parents. It seems he couldn’t bring himself to speak up when seeing his parents’ joy at finally being together. Instead, the child sought help from teachers, but rather than helping, the teachers publicly criticized him for seeking help, using the word “tattling.” There should be no such thing as tattling on friends. After the principal’s public admonishment, as the bullying worsened, the child couldn’t tell his parents about the situation but displayed a rebellious attitude, for which his parents severely scolded him. The result was the child’s fall. Miraculously, the child survived, and the parents learned the truth.
They would never send him back to school. No school was needed. The father, a university professor, decided to withdraw his child immediately. He personally went and threw the withdrawal form in the principal’s face. Of course, the principal couldn’t say a word despite this humiliating treatment. When the father said, “I’m so happy. To be able to submit this withdrawal form,” he couldn’t even lift his face. It was because the child was alive that he could submit the withdrawal form. If he had died, the “happy event” of submitting the withdrawal form wouldn’t have occurred.
While the child’s father was doing this, the child’s mother contacted Sebastian’s mother. The reason she contacted her high school friend was to leave a request for the problem-solver “Armin Schnieke.” The mother came with dark circles under her eyes from not sleeping at all and said:
“My child will now have to fight the aftereffects, but at least he’ll escape the bullying. But those creatures will find someone else. I know this is hunting. Just as hunting is a sport for some, this is just a game for those kids. But there’s no guarantee that another child will experience the same miracle as mine. So I need to intervene.”
“Are you seeking revenge?”
“Mr. Schnieke, I may be poor compared to the Riegel family, but I have enough money to hire one or two contractors. You probably know the list of contractors and their prices well.”
Contractors aren’t as expensive as one might think. It’s just that the way of living can be a bit tricky. The child’s mother shook her head. Pain welled up in her eyes.
“Please make it so those little monsters can never bully ordinary children again. The plan is all laid out. What I need is someone who can take on this role.”
My client’s plan wasn’t detailed and had quite a few holes, but it contained all the necessary requirements.
Above all, it was something I liked. The means were violent, and the purpose was fairly noble. They say the end doesn’t justify the means? Ah, isn’t it hard enough to properly establish just one of the two in this world? I’m willing to overlook things if just one is established. How can you match both? Even the Security Bureau couldn’t do it.
“Well, if there are some coercive aspects that arise—”
As I made one final check before accepting the request, my client smiled faintly. Her rough face had hardened so much that even with just one smile, it seemed like her skin would crack. Unable to smile, she distorted her face into something resembling a smile and said:
“It’s okay if one of those monsters dies. There’s only a cliff behind me.”
I’m not particularly trying to save my client. I don’t even think I can. I can’t save anyone. I tried to save, but I couldn’t even save Sebastian. What saved him was himself. In the final moment, he stepped back to save himself and his father. I can’t even imagine how difficult that one step back must have been for him, not killing Yudorov.
So I just hope that the future my client wants will unfold more smoothly.
I brought the children to a pre-prepared warehouse, made them kneel, bound their wrists behind their backs with cable ties. As soon as the prettiest one’s wrists were restrained, she shook her body and shouted:
“Ah, this has nothing to do with you, mister.”
Most decent girls aren’t like this, but in the case of delinquent girls, they sometimes play the female card. Believing she won’t get beaten when the boys who’ve taken enough of a beating from me can’t even look me in the eye, she confronts me.
But I know who you are.
And I know what you did to my client’s son and to another family’s son and daughter.
“It does. It has as much to do with you as you are concerned.”
The child looked up at me without avoiding my eyes. Perhaps it’s because she has looks that could be called quite beautiful. She was very confident.
“It has nothing to do with me. I was just—”
Ah, I don’t want to listen to this bullshit for long. I cut off her words immediately.
“Just there? The boys did all the bad things, and you were just laughing in the background? Right, you said that twice before? It’s strange, isn’t it, how the guys who just threw punches become so vicious when they meet you? Don’t you think?”
This child has changed schools twice. And each time, she caused this trouble.
“It’s true these guys bullied other kids even when you weren’t around. But they just beat them and left it at that; they didn’t bring people in to strip them, make them do strange things, feed them filth, and then spread videos to friends like you did. Your method was very consistent. And I know one more thing, kid. This is the real part, right?”
“…”
“You’re a boy, aren’t you?”
At that moment, all the male students who had been looking down in fear of me raised their heads to look at her. They had disbelieving yet half-suspicious eyes. Ah, they all thought something was off.
The female student—or should I say, the ringleader—glared at me.
“You should watch what you say.”
What he’s talking about is outing. Ah, you stuff excrement into other people’s mouths, but you don’t like being outed? That won’t do. You have no human rights. According to my standards.
“I don’t want to. You’re transgender. But what’s funnier is—”
I smiled at the guy whose arms were tied behind his back.
“You’re actually not transgender.”
After saying that, I looked behind him, and the two female students who would have shared friendship with him, and several male students who would have had crushes or even deeper relationships with him, all had blank faces as they stared at the back of his head. It’s not true, right? Their eyes that desperately asked this question were pitiful.
“You’re just a boy. No, to be precise, you’re a worthless piece of shit. But you’re a worm who enjoys stepping on others with power. Ah, but you lack the patience to build your own strength. So at your first school, you lured a male student. You told him you were transgender. That you would become a woman. That when you became a woman, you wanted to marry him. After luring him like that, you turned a fool who just used his fists into the world’s biggest garbage. And when changing schools, you claimed to be transgender and transferred as a female student.”
The one who figured this out was naturally my client. After discovering this fact, my client pondered how to blow this up most effectively. It was obvious that even if exposed, this child would just placate those around and transfer schools again.
“And you did the same thing at your second school. That time it was girls. But one of the victims waited until you were alone in the middle of the night and tried to strangle you. Saying she would kill you. You got scared. So at your third school, you didn’t even touch the girls. Even though the girls clearly seemed more vulnerable, you couldn’t understand at what point they went crazy. Not understanding, you chose the more comprehensible option. So after bullying male students, now you’re meeting me here?”
At my words, he glared at me with terrifying eyes. But there were male students glaring at the back of his head with even more frightening eyes. These were the male students he had manipulated and ordered around while pretending to be female.
“Now, I’m going to release you. Enjoy your time with your friends. Ah, it would be best not to think about transferring schools. If you transfer, your friends from your previous school and the male student from the school before that might want to follow you.”
Because I’ll tell them this truth and where you’ve transferred to. Understanding my words, his face turned pale. As I released his cable ties, he frantically looked around. By the time I released the other children’s cable ties, he was holding an iron pipe lying around the warehouse. As if that was the answer, the male students bared their teeth fiercely.
I stepped back lightly and turned my back. Shouts and screams echoed behind me. Not my problem.
Children are so naive. Why do they think this warehouse is safe? Or are they so angry they can’t see straight? This warehouse has cameras installed with no blind spots. Whatever those children do to each other, it will be recorded, and they will all have to be thrown into juvenile detention.
“My husband wants our son to withdraw. Our son isn’t saying anything. And I’ve requested that the withdrawal form not be processed. I… don’t want to contribute to a society where victims have to run away. If my son wants to quit, that’s fine. And I don’t mind if he runs away. But if my son feels like these demons have taken his school from him, that’s unacceptable. So first, I need to take the school away from them.”
That’s what my client said.
My role ends here. Will my client’s words come true? I hope they do. I liked that my client spoke of a just society even with a face of despair. It reminded me a bit of Sebastian.
Yes, my new profession is “problem-solver” or “contractor.” Ah, I don’t commit murder. I actually really dislike killing.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
