Teach You A Lesson

“Look at them. Just stand there and look at them,” Park Seong-Hwan spat, leaning heavily against the rusted chain-link fence that bordered the school’s main courtyard. He took a long drag from a cigarette, his eyes narrowed as he watched the sleek, dark sedan roll past the heavy iron gates of Guun High-Tech High School. The engine purred with a low, menacing hum that seemed to vibrate right through the concrete. “They actually think they can just walk in here and change how things run. A few phone calls about ‘harassment’ and ‘severe bullying,’ and suddenly the government sends a bunch of suits to play savior? It’s pathetic.”

Cho In-Beom stood right beside him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn't look quite as relaxed as Seong-Hwan; his eyes were fixed on the front windshield of the car, trying to pierce through the heavy tint. “Don’t act too stupid, Seong-Hwan,” In-Beom muttered, his voice dropping an octave as a few underclassmen hurried past them, keeping their heads down. “You’ve heard the rumors from the other districts. It’s not just regular state inspectors this time. It’s the Educational Rights Protection Bureau. The ERPB. They don't just hand out suspensions and write reports. My cousin told me about a guy in the neighboring province who tried to press them. The dude ended up crying on his knees in the middle of the gym. They have some kind of special legal immunity. They can use force if the classroom environment is deemed 'completely broken'.”

“Force?” Seong-Hwan let out a sharp, mocking laugh, flicking the ash from his cigarette directly onto the pavement. “Let them try it. This isn’t some middle school full of soft kids who run to their mommies. This is the automotive and electrical tech departments. Half the guys here have wrenches in their lockers and know how to use them. If some government bureaucrat thinks he can come into our territory and tell us who we can and can’t mess with, he’s going to get a very quick lesson in how real life works.”

“Just shut up and look,” In-Beom warned, his posture stiffening as the car finally came to a complete stop right in front of the main building.

The heavy atmosphere on the campus seemed to curdle instantly. The ambient noise of the courtyard—the distant revving of motorbikes from the auto shop, the loud shouting of delinquents loitering by the stairs, the quiet whispers of terrified students trying to blend into the walls—all of it died down to an oppressive, dead silence. Dozens of eyes watched as the driver’s side door swung open with a crisp, heavy click.

Out stepped Na Hwa-Jin.

He didn't look like a standard government official. He wore a crisp, tailored black suit that looked incredibly sharp, contrasting heavily with the gritty, oil-stained backdrop of the high school. He stood at his full height, casually adjusting his dark tie before reaching back inside the car to grab a thick, heavy wooden club rolled neatly into a leather strap. His sharp, dark eyes scanned the courtyard with a slow, calculating intensity. He didn't look angry; he looked bored, like a professional exterminator arriving at an infestation he had cleared a thousand times before.

“My, my,” Hwa-Jin murmured, his deep voice carrying easily across the silent courtyard as he looked at the graffiti-covered walls and the groups of students openly smoking in uniform. He let out a soft, amused chuckle that sent a visible shiver down the spines of the underclassmen nearby. “And here I thought the complaints were exaggerated. It seems the administration here completely threw away the rulebook months ago. Look at this place. It’s a complete circus.”

From the passenger side, Im Han-Rim stepped out, her expression a mask of pure annoyance as she slammed the car door shut. She carried a thick digital tablet loaded with the names, records, and specific harassment files of the worst offenders in the school. She glanced at the screen, her eyes flickering over toward the fence where Seong-Hwan and In-Beom were standing.

“We have a total of forty-two documented complaints of severe physical harassment, extortion, and cyber-bullying just within the past three weeks, Inspector,” Han-Rim stated loudly, her tone professional but laced with a dangerous edge. “The school board completely lost control, and the local police have been turning a blind eye because the ringleaders are tied to some local gang elements outside the school. The victims have been completely abandoned.”

Hwa-Jin tapped the wooden club against the palm of his hand, a rhythmic, steady thwack, thwack, thwack that sounded like a countdown timer. He took a few steps forward, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the gravel. He stopped, looking directly at the crowd of older students who were staring him down. “Abandoned? Well, that’s exactly why the Bureau exists, isn't it? From this exact moment onward, the standard school regulations are officially suspended. The Educational Rights Protection Bureau is taking full, unconditional command of this institution. If you think your parents, your gang friends, or the juvenile laws are going to protect you from the consequences of what you’ve done here... you are deeply mistaken.”

He smiled—a wide, brilliant, and terrifying expression that didn't reach his eyes.

“This is it,” Hwa-Jin said softly, the words hanging heavily in the humid air. “We are going to rebuild your sense of discipline from the absolute ground up. And I don’t mind getting my hands dirty to do it.”

Behind him, Bong Geun-Dae scrambled out of the back seat, adjusting his glasses nervously as he dragged a heavy equipment bag filled with the Bureau's official documentation and tech gear. “I-Inspector Na, please remember we need to establish the main command post in the faculty office before we initiate any physical disciplinary protocols!” he stammered, looking around anxiously at the sheer number of hostile delinquents gathering around the perimeter.

“Don’t worry, Geun-Dae,” Hwa-Jin replied playfully, not breaking eye contact with the students. “We’ll get to the paperwork soon enough. But first, I think we need to clear the courtyard. Class is officially in session.”

---

The heavy iron gates are closed shut behind the vehicle, sealing the campus off from the outside world. The inspectors have arrived, the lines have been drawn, and a brutal restructuring of the school's hierarchy is about to begin.

(The story is completely in your hands. The starter does not define who you are, what your alignment is, or where you are standing. You could be a terrified student watching from a second-floor classroom window, a defiant delinquent standing right next to In-Beom and Seong-Hwan with a weapon hidden in your jacket, a corrupt faculty member sweating at the sight of the ERPB, or even an unmentioned rookie agent who traveled in the second vehicle to assist the team.)