The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 8: The Age of Barbarism (1)

3rd period ended, and a taut tension hung in the air.

If it had been like normal days, a few students would have unwrapped their lunchboxes during break.

But today, there was no one.

Because 4th period was drill training.

We changed into camouflaged training uniforms and put on our caps, and it felt like we were military cadets.

Model M16 rifles were aligned in perfect formation on the school field.

A sense of tension began to flow.

The drill instructor had retired as a major, but the seniors called him “Dokka.”

The nickname meant that if you got caught, you’d be dead, so you’d better avoid him.

My partner, Ji Jeongseok, grumbled.

“Still trying to control students in military style. This is all leftover from filthy military culture.”

Was he dreaming of being a revolutionary?

Ji Jeongseok was odd every time I saw him.

“Cheonmyeong.”

Yang Seok‑gu approached, wearing his cap crookedly.

His lips were chapped tight, cheeks stiff.

“Your face is ashen.”

“Have you not heard the rumor?”

“What rumor?”

“They say today’s first lesson in bayonet drill will turn into a massacre if you mess up.”

“What do you mean, ‘a massacre?’”

“They’re saying there’ll be bloodshed. How can anyone do it well in one go? I’m freaking out.”

Unfortunately, Yang Seok‑gu’s words came true.

Bloodshed really broke out.

“Are you bastards out of your minds? Drop down now!”

The drill instructor—no, Dokka—had been oppressive from the start.

He had burly muscles, a sharp jaw, and serpent-cold eyes.

His appearance was already threatening, and with his shouting voice, no one could help but shrink back.

Problems arose from the very first bayonet maneuver, “thrust.”

Because we didn’t put enough force into the move.

“Spirit!”

“Spirit!”

“Unity!”

“Unity!”

We did push‑ups while chanting his commands in call‑and‑response.

“Skipped breakfast? Listen to those weak voices!”

“Spirit!”

“Spirit!”

“Unity!”

“Unity!”

Our loud voices shook the earth.

Ji Jeongseok had been right.

Dokka was controlling students in military fashion.

“Get up! Let’s see if you’re awake. Thrust!”

“Argh!”

I hated that chant too.

Why force us to yell “argh” or “gung” or whatever guttural sound?

Why even bother?

But no one dared question in that atmosphere.

Dokka’s voice sharpened to a blade.

“Strike! The ‘strike’ move sends your right arm and right leg forward at once, and you must keep the rifle stock aligned. That way you can blow off the enemy’s head!”

Up to here, we managed to follow along. But then things unraveled.

“Step aside—thrust to the right!”

We were supposed to turn right and thrust, but someone turned left, another diagonally, and we ended up facing each other in a ridiculous scene.

“You bastards! With this state of mind, are you going to defend the country?”

Some might want to say, "I’m a student, not a soldier,” but the brutal atmosphere meant no one answered.

“Drop down!”

Once more, push‑ups began to the rhythm, “Spirit! Unity!”

Under the scorching sun.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, then fell to the ground soon after.

“Get up! From now on I won’t speak. Get your wits about you!”

His words, like a cold blade, approached as though ready to slit our throats.

“Thrust! Strike! Sidestep—thrust right! Perform the moves in continuous sequence. Begin!”

“Argh!”

“Argh! Argh!”

“Argh! Argh! Argh!”

It was a disaster.

The moves were off, the commands were off.

Well, no wonder—he’d shown us the demo only once before ordering continuous execution.

The most eye-catching one was Wang Dohun.

Maybe because he had no athletic sense at all, he would thrust while tilting his rifle, stepping however he pleased, often breaking formation.

But.

The arrow landed on a completely different target.

“You, come out!”

Dokka called out Yang Seok‑gu.

Of course, he missed the timing too, but compared to the others, he was relatively okay.

Why did he let Wang Dohun off the hook when he danced a mask dance instead of bayonet drills?

What’s more, Wang Dohun was standing in a spot clearly visible from Dokka’s position—there’s no way he couldn’t have seen him.

“Did you leave your brains in the toilet? You need a beating to come to your senses!”

Slaaap—

A slap flew up in an instant.

Yang Seok‑gu’s head jerked to the right.

“Still not coming to your senses?”

Then Dokka kicked Yang Seok‑gu’s shin with his military boots.

“Aaagh!”

Yang Seok‑gu writhed in pain and lowered his head.

“I’ll come to my senses.”

“Down!”

Yang Seok‑gu lay down on the ground, and Dokka extended his pointer baton, readying a full swing.

Just then.

“Teacher! Why are you only picking on him?”

It was Ji Jeongseok.

Is he out of his mind?

“What?”

Dokka approached Ji Jeongseok with a sneering smile.

“This punk’s gone crazy like a spring frog.”

Dokka jabbed Ji Jeongseok in the stomach with his pointer.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Other students got it wrong too. And there’s even one guy doing a bayonet dance, not bayonet drills, but why is it only Yang Seok‑gu getting beaten?”

“This punk’s gone mad.”

Slaaap—

A slap landed immediately.

Ji Jeongseok’s head slightly turned, but his eyes still locked onto Dokka.

“Well, look at this! You see your teacher as nothing.”

Dokka took off his watch and asked.

“What does your dad do?”

“He’s a soldier.”

“A soldier? Probably a deadweight at his unit. No wonder his kid turned out like this.”

“Don’t insult my father!”

“Look at this brat! No fear of his teacher.”

Dokka kicked him in the shin with his boots and slapped him several more times.

Even while being beaten, Ji Jeongseok kept his eyes fixed on Dokka.

Even Dokka was thrown off.

“This bastard’s not right in the head.”

“You’re the one who’s wrong. It’s called fair reward and punishment. Rewards and penalties must be strict.”

“You punk! I’ll beat you until you beg for your life!”

Dokka lost it.

He swung wildly and kicked with his boots.

His violence only stopped when the PE teacher arrived.

“Sir, please stop. You’ll kill the kid.”

“Punks like that need more beating!”

I wanted to kill Dokka.

For the first time, I wanted to kill someone.

Ji Jeongseok’s actions were a mystery.

Judging by the side dishes in his lunchbox, he was clearly from a wealthy family. There was no need for him to side with the weak.

Even today, his lunch was filled with sausages, rolled omelets, and spicy pork stir-fry.

I wanted to offer a small word of comfort.

“You okay? That bastard’s a complete psycho.”

“I look fine, don’t I?”

“Your lips are all busted.”

“I know how to dodge well.”

Ji Jeongseok smirked.

Lunch was chaos again today.

“I’ve got kimchi, you’ve got ham. We’re friends, so let’s share!”

With a fork in hand, Pyun Dalsik went from desk to desk, stealing side dishes.

That guy only ever brought rice and kimchi.

Not sure if it’s because his family’s poor or if he just wants to mess with classmates on purpose.

Either way, lunch was noisy because of him.

Pyun Dalsik came to our desk.

“Wow! Jeongseok’s lunch is greasy again today. I’ve got kimchi, and you’ve got...”

Looking at the three side dishes, the guy tilted his head and picked the sausage.

“Sausage! We’re friends! Thanks for the food.”

Pyun Dalsik stabbed a sausage with his fork and disappeared.

His rule was to take just one side dish without being greedy.

That’s why no big fights broke out.

“Cheonmyeong, eat my side dish.”

“I’m just mooching again.”

“Friends share, it’s not mooching.”

Ji Jeongseok ate the tofu I brought and grinned.

“I can eat at home, so you eat up.”

Ji Jeongseok was a thoughtful and considerate friend.

A character I had never encountered in my past life, naturally piquing my curiosity.

Grateful, I went to the nurse’s office after lunch and brought back a band-aid.

As always, Ji Jeongseok was reading a book.

“Put this on.”

“Thanks.”

A familiar cover.

It was Liberation Theology, the one I’d seen at my oldest brother’s place.

“Do you understand this book?”

“You know it too?”

“I saw it at my big brother’s place, but it was too hard for me.”

“I’m reading it for the third time.”

“You think you’ll get into college just reading books instead of studying?”

“Reading books speeds up studying. Besides, I’m not trying to go to a top university anyway.”

Ji Jeongseok was definitely not ordinary.

Judging by his reading habits, he seemed like he’d be good at studying.

A friend who really sparked curiosity.

Even in suffocating deserts, there’s always an oasis.

Even in darkness, stars shine.

During the afternoon classes, we had Mr. Jeon Seonghyeon, the Korean history teacher.

With a gentle impression, he not only taught history in a fun way but also treated students respectfully.

Not everyone at this school was a villain.

With the Earth science teacher and the PE teacher, we now had another place of refuge.

Homeroom time.

The homeroom teacher tapped his palm with the pointer baton and said,

“Until now, Oh Man-seok has been the acting class president, but starting tomorrow, he’s officially appointed. From now on, his words are as good as mine, so listen well.”

“Yes.”

A mad dog for a homeroom teacher and a gorilla for class president—what a combo.

Once the homeroom teacher left, Ji Jeongseok leaned in and spoke so only I could hear.

“That bastard’s becoming a lapdog of power. I heard rumors from middle school that he acted like a king under the homeroom teacher’s wing.”

“That bad? He already looks scary, like an ape.”

“I really don’t like this school. His parents are supposedly part of the school development committee, so who knows how wild he’ll get.”

Ji Jeongseok took out his evening lunchbox.

I stood up, needing to go out and buy some bread.

“Where are you going?”

“To buy some bread and milk.”

“From tomorrow, just bring rice. I’ll ask my mom to pack more side dishes.”

“It’s fine. Just your kindness during lunch is enough.”

I couldn’t keep relying on him. That would turn into a debt.

I went to the store outside the school gate and picked up some bread.

A 200-won bread.

Out of the 10,000 won I got from my oldest brother, after paying for milk, I had only 3,200 won left.

I had to save as much as possible.

Yang Seok‑gu, in a similar financial situation, picked up the same bread.

He had a good heart.

He grinned at me.

“You got beat up like that by the drill instructor and you’re still smiling?”

“That’s just my fate. I’ll graduate quickly and start working. I need to make a lot of money.”

“Not going to college?”

“We can’t afford it, and I’m not smart enough. Better to learn a skill early.”

Sure, right now everyone worships school prestige, but in the future, a college diploma wouldn’t mean much.

As long as you were good at one thing, you could make a living.

“That might be better. Just focus on learning one trade well.”

“What should I learn?”

“Tiling.”

That advice came from my past life experience.

When I ran a construction company, I saw tile workers earning over 300,000 won a day.

Yang Seok‑gu looked interested.

“Tiling? What’s that?”

“Those square stones on the school bathroom floor. It’s about putting those down.”

“Really? That’s a promising job?”

“For sure.”

We were on our way back to the classroom after eating the bread.

Suddenly, a hand landed on my shoulder.

“Friends!”

Ji Jeongseok slung his arms around both my and Yang Seok‑gu’s shoulders.

“Yang Seok‑gu, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I was too embarrassed earlier to even thank you.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Still, thanks to you, I got hit a little less.”

Ji Jeongseok pulled us close with his arms.

Our three heads almost touched.

“Just watch. I’m not going to let that crazy Dokka bastard get away with it.”

What was he talking about?

Ji Jeongseok wasn’t the type to say nonsense.

But that thing—actually, really happened.