The Driver's License Agency compound housed not only the licensing department but also the driving school where Eun-woo had taken his lessons. Looking at the familiar grounds, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.
A few months ago, sweating through his driving test, he'd daydreamed that maybe, maybe, if he saved every won in college, he could afford a beat-up used Kia Morning someday. Now, barely months later, he wasn't even thinking about a Morning—he was driving a top-spec Range Rover SVAutobiography.
With all his documentation in perfect order, the process was astonishingly smooth. In just over an hour, the shiny new license plates were mounted on his car, reinforcing his absolute faith in anything the system produced.
After washing his hands in the restroom, he returned to the parking lot and froze. Leaning casually against his Range Rover was a very familiar face.
It was Jeong Yuna, the rebellious girl from his class who'd dropped out midway through their second year of high school.
That wasn't even the main point. The real story was that she'd once had a crush on him. Eun-woo hadn't been a model student himself, but that particular brand of rebellious 'ggangpae-ttal' (gangster-wannabe girl) held zero appeal for him.
Naturally, after being rejected, she'd held a grudge, making things difficult for him whenever she could. Once, she'd even rounded up five or six dropouts from a vocational school to corner him after classes.
Unfortunately for her, those five couldn't handle Eun-woo and Kim Do-hyun. To be precise, Kim Do-hyun alone had terrified them into submission.
The scene had played out roughly like this: Eun-woo and Do-hyun were biking home when a group of dyed-haired punks blocked their path. "Which one of you is Song Eun-woo? Step forward and get beaten up."
The two exchanged a glance, dismounted, and faced the larger group. Before Eun-woo could utter a cool one-liner, Kim Do-hyun—usually quiet as a mouse—snatched a loose paving brick from the ground, strode forward, and without a word, brought it down on the head of the lead, bleach-blond punk.
"Ssi-bal. Who the hell wants to touch my hyung?"
The brick cracked in two; blood immediately streamed down the punk's face.
The sight of real blood turned the bravado to panic. They yelled something about "you'll regret this!" and scattered.
Watching them flee, Eun-woo had been speechless. "Ya! Do-hyun! Couldn't you have let me say something cool first?"
Not long after that incident, Jeong Yuna quit school and cut off all contact with their class.
Eun-woo never expected to run into her here.
"Song Eun-woo?? Is that really you? What are you doing here?"
Just as he was sighing at the absurd coincidence, she spotted him approaching the car.
Since she'd called out, he couldn't just ignore her. He flicked the water from his hands and walked over.
"Heh. Fancy meeting you here, old classmate. Hasn't even been a year and a half, right?"
Polite as ever, he offered a slight, neutral smile.
Jeong Yuna curled her lip in disdain, her reply dripping with sarcasm. "Omo~ Look who it is. Hasn't even been two years. Don't tell me you dropped out too and got a job here? I just saw you mounting plates on that car."
She let out a dramatic, pitying tsk. "So the famous pretty boy of Daehan High ends up like this? What a waste of that face."
She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "See that? My boyfriend's brand-new Mercedes. Do a good job mounting our plates, and I'll tip you an extra 50,000 won. Can't say your old classmate doesn't look out for you."
Her tone made Eun-woo frown slightly. Following her gesture, he noticed a black Mercedes-Benz C-Class parked behind his Range Rover. Inside sat a skinny guy in skinny jeans and cheap sneakers, watching the exchange with a mocking smirk.
Clearly, Yuna had seen him earlier and assumed he worked at the agency as a technician or clerk. She'd approached specifically to revel in his perceived downfall.
Eun-woo shook his head with a wry smile. Where do these people get their confidence?
People like this weren't worth his time. Even before the system, the old him would have, at most, left a shoe-print on the Mercedes' door and walked away. But lately, since gaining the system, he felt his temper had mellowed; he'd even become more… articulate.
"Heh. Keep your 50,000 won," he said, his voice calm. "Buy some toothpaste and scrub the muck off your back teeth. And pick up some mouthwash while you're at it."
With that, he turned to get into his car. Arguing with an idiot only dragged you down to their level.
But before he could open the door, Yuna exploded behind him. "Ya! Who are you calling foul-mouthed?! You think I'm joking? My boyfriend can get you fired with one call, you know that?!"
Right on cue, the Mercedes door opened. The scrawny 'gangster-wannabe' swaggered over. He fished a cheap cigarette from his wallet, stuck it between his lips, struck a pose, and pointed a finger at Eun-woo.
"Kid. You know who I am? Around here, everyone knows the name Bang Ho!"
He spread his stance. "The real world ain't like school, got it? It's complicated. Apologize to my girl, mount the plates on my Benz properly, and if I'm in a good mood, I might toss you 100,000 won."
He took a drag. "If not… pack your things tomorrow. You think this inspection center isn't run by my hyung's friend?"
Listening to the delusional bravado, Eun-woo didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Why is the world so full of self-important clowns? Good thing he was keeping his cool these days.
He stopped, gave a final, helpless shake of his head, turned back, and looked the slouching beanpole up and down. He actually chuckled.
"Your name is really Bang Ho?" (A pun: 'Bang Ho' sounds like 방호 (bangho), meaning 'defense,' but is also a slang term for something laughably pathetic).
Mistaking the question for recognition, the guy puffed out his chest and nodded arrogantly. "That's right. Your hyung-nim Bang Ho. Scared now, huh—urk—!"
THUD.
His sentence ended in a choked gurgle. Smoke still trickled from his nostrils as his body flew backward, crashing into Jeong Yuna.
A clean, size-280 shoe print was now stamped prominently on the chest of his white track jacket.
[To be continued…]