A Chairman Who Has No Regrets - Chapter 7



Only Krnovel

The Chairman Who Doesn’t Regret Episode 7 – The First (4)

Every hour, every class was fun for me. It was fun to hear the teachers’ nagging for the first time in a long time and to learn things I had long forgotten.

What made me most happy, more than anything, was the smell of food that was now wafting past my nostrils.

The smell of various foods may be a jumbled mess that you may find unpleasant at first, but it wasn’t like that at all for me. Back then, the lunch I ate every day, consisting of anchovies, kimchi, and rice, was just something I ate to survive, but not anymore.

Although what was supposed to go down my throat was rice, my heart was eating memories, so I was so excited about it.

“Okay, okay, sit down! Class has started, kids.”

Finally, it was the 4th period English class before lunch. It was also my homeroom teacher, Seo Yoon-seok’s time.

“These kids are unusually noisy today.”

The homeroom teacher tilted his head as if it was strange.

I know why, but my homeroom teacher seems to have a hard time guessing.

I couldn’t say that it was all my fault, so I did my job as class president.

“Attention, salute.”

“hello.”

The homeroom teacher nodded as if she still had questions but didn’t think they were very important, and opened her mouth to greet the children.

“Okay, the English test results are out, you guys. Remember what the teacher said? Those who dropped their scores from the last test will get one point for every point they scored.”

“ah-”

“Ah- you little brats, why don’t you work a little harder? Come on, stop dawdling and come out from number one!”

I can’t help but laugh out loud as it feels like the ordinance time is repeating itself.

How can the same situation keep unfolding from the first period?

Students receive their test papers in order, starting from number 1. Those whose scores drop significantly get scolded, and then the answer sheets are explained.

I feel fortunate that the class content was the same all day. If the classes had felt awkward and a little unfamiliar, it might have been difficult.

Because I haven’t adjusted to being a high school student yet.

“You dropped 8 points? Hold on tight.”

“yep.”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

A hawk pretending to love beats children’s buttocks without mercy.

As the turn passes, it seems like the strength will decrease, but why does the hand of the homeroom teacher who swings the whip feel more and more fierce? Is there a trick to that?

The cue stick that the teacher is holding looks like the opposite side of a billiard cue stick, and it’s covered in dark red dirt.

The homeroom teacher who swings the whip so often that you wonder if the red stain is blood.

“Number 53!”

My number was called. It was already the fourth time today, so I stood up out of habit.

“You worked hard, you punk!”

My homeroom teacher tapped me on the shoulder with a very proud look on his face. At the top of the test paper he handed me, it was written in red pencil that I got 92 points.

‘I guess I got two questions wrong.’

As I was about to bow my head and go in, my homeroom teacher spoke.

“You got one more question wrong than last time, class president.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Hey, you, was this exam hard? Looking at your grades… it looks like you’ll be able to get 3rd place in the whole school.”

“······”

I couldn’t think of a proper answer, so I just remained silent.

Certainly, I felt a lot of pressure about grades starting after my first year of high school.

Expensive tutoring.

Chopsticks Academy.

I couldn’t even dream of something like that because I didn’t have the financial resources to keep up with the efficient studying of top students.

“If it’s too hard, consider taking a short-term course.”

Recommendation, not coercion.

That was the kind of atmosphere my homeroom teacher gave off. I could sense the bitterness in his face as he recommended private education to improve my grades.

It felt completely different from the face that was just beating the kids’ butts.

“Review quickly, check why you got it wrong, and explain it to me later.”

“yes.”

As I was going back to my seat, the kid behind me who had been eating his lunch box in that rude manner earlier suddenly raised his hand.

“teacher!”

“why?”

“Why isn’t the class president right? You said you got one more question wrong?”

I could feel the anticipation on the faces of the kids in the class at the guy’s words. It seemed like most of the kids in the class wanted me to get my butt massaged. But the homeroom teacher seemed to think otherwise and snickered as if it was funny.

“Who would want to study if even the best student would get scolded? Do you want to get scolded even if you study hard?”

“ah···”

The guy who seemed to be indifferent shuts his mouth, seemingly unable to think of a reasonable argument to refute the feeling that something is unfair. A look of regret passes over the faces of the other kids in the class.

‘You guys, I’m turning 60 in a day or two.’

Should I get my butt kicked at this age?

I just thought he was a teacher at the time, but he was actually better at handling kids than I thought.

Because it broke the logic of a child discussing fairness without any hesitation.

“And Kang-i will soon realize his mistake and correct it. Hyung-tae, don’t you know the class president yet? If you feel wronged, try to work as hard as the class president, no, half as hard. The teacher will be very pleased with you.”

I could sense the teacher’s trust in me from what he said. I guess I’m a hard-working student to the teachers, but a person the kids don’t like to see.

So that’s why the gruff guy is grumbling that I didn’t get it right.

“Number 54! Jeon Hyeong-tae! Come out, you punk.”

As I entered, that rough guy happened to be the next batter. His face was full of regret. He must have been thinking that he had challenged the homeroom teacher’s authority for no reason.

The homeroom teacher who has already spanked the butts of 53 children, excluding me, from number 1 to number 54.

Because my hand was sore, I finally lifted the whip that had been in my right hand into my left hand.

‘You have amazing stamina.’

I shook my head.

“This kid dropped 16 points?”

“Huh?”

Jeon Hyung-tae was startled by his homeroom teacher’s words.

He quickly looked at his test paper and made a face that seemed to say he couldn’t believe it.

“That’s right, you punk. Is this the kind of grade you can throw at a teacher?”

“Sir, just a moment!”

“Oh, hurry up and catch him, there’s no time!”

“No, no.”

“Hold on tight, you’ll break a bone.”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Ugh, teacher, please save me.”

“Hey, if someone sees me, I’m a student magazine? Huh?”

“Ah, I’ll try harder next time.”

“There are still 13 left. Hold on tight.”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Ouch, tailbone, tailbone!”

The boy jumps up and down the classroom. The children burst into laughter at the sight.

I too can’t help but chuckle and laugh.

“Use your dragon, use your dragon.”

The homeroom teacher grabbed Jeon Hyeong-tae’s earlobe as if it was ridiculous, dragged him back in front of the teacher’s desk, and beat him with the remaining beatings.

The guy shoots me a sharp glance as he returns to his seat.

Get slapped in Jongno and get glared at in the Han River.

I don’t know how many times I’ve recalled this proverb today. Well, it’s understandable. But it’s not my problem to solve, so I just ignore it.

That’s it for another while.

The homeroom teacher, who had been beating the buttocks of nearly 70 children with a stick, wiped the sweat from his forehead, waved the test paper around, and began reading the passage for question number 1.

“I am a boy, you are a girl···”

oh my god.

I can’t help but shake my head at the terrible diction. If you spoke to a foreigner with that kind of pronunciation, there probably wouldn’t be anyone who would understand.

Soon, laughter breaks out again.

When I first came to America, I had a hard time with the American English that I couldn’t understand at all. I tried hard to get rid of the Konglish leftovers from spoon-fed English education.

As that memory comes back vividly, I find myself chuckling without realizing it.

“Oh my, does the whole place look relaxed?”

I tried to suppress my laughter at the question from my homeroom teacher who had been giving a long explanation.

“no.”

“Have you solved all the wrong answers?”

“yes.”

“Oh, look how confident you are. Are you sure?”

“yes.”

A brief look of worry crossed the homeroom teacher’s face. Soon, the corners of her lips lifted as if something was funny, and she looked at the children in the class and said.

“Okay! If the class president can’t explain his wrong answer perfectly, how about getting hit with four strokes of the same love stick he missed earlier?”

“I agree!”

The guy named Jeon Hyeong-tae shouts loudly.

The children burst into laughter again at that sight.

“Oh, it seems like you’re the only one who agrees? Then what if the class president explains it? Do you want to get hit by the other?”

“Oh, no.”

The homeroom teacher smiled and looked at me again.

“What do you think, class president? Are you confident?”

“yes.”

“Okay, come out and explain.”

I looked at the children while holding the test paper next to the desk.

The guys’ eyes are filled with anticipation. Do they really want to see me get hit that much?

I feel so sorry, what should I do?

I have no intention of doing that at all.

“Putting all of her… running race… record…”

I read the passage for question number 7 out loud as if I was breathing. After reading for a while, I felt something cold and took my eyes off the test paper. The English teacher and the other kids were looking at me with wide eyes.

‘Oh, that’s a bit over the top.’

Maybe it was because I was feeling a little excited, but I felt like my thoughts were short-sighted. It seems that my fluent English surprised not only my homeroom teacher but also the children.

If it were me, I would have read the English text with a terrible pronunciation similar to that of my homeroom teacher.

Because that was all the English I had ever heard.

Since it happened anyway, I decided to just push through.

“So, the emotion she felt after unfortunately losing the game was regret.”

“Hey, Kang, this guy really worked hard. I thought you were watching the American news, you punk.”

The homeroom teacher is truly proud.

And at the teacher’s reaction, the children’s eyes once again filled with envy, jealousy, and hatred.

“yes.”

I almost blurted out, “Thank you,” out of politeness, but I held back.

Because it wasn’t my homeroom teacher’s turn to say thank you yet.

“You punk, you’re so blunt.”

The homeroom teacher put his arm around my shoulder and looked at the last row of students.

“What do you think? Do I still need to get scolded by the class president for this?”

Jeon Hyeong-tae makes a face that shows that he is very unlucky and shakes his head.

“You guys, you guys, work hard too.”

Ding-dong-daeng-dong.

The paper is ringing.

The homeroom teacher glanced at his watch and smacked his lips.

“Oh, there’s still a little left… Tsk, let’s solve the remaining problems next time. Enjoy your lunch!”

As soon as the homeroom teacher finished speaking, we coolly walked out of the classroom without even saying goodbye.

The children rise from their seats with a small cheer and each take their lunch box to the fire pit.

‘at las.’

It was time to eat the packed lunch that had been causing me conflict during every break.

With a new sense of excitement, I carefully lifted my lunch box onto the wood stove with the wrapping cloth that had wrapped it.

Hot, hot, the heat is transmitted through the blanket to my palm.

As I was about to turn around and go back to my seat, I saw children sitting around my seat.

Could they be Hwang Dong-soo’s friends?

Luckily my chair was empty.

“Class president, come quickly.”

Hwang Dong-soo calls me.

What could it be?

I sat down awkwardly.

A guy who pulled up a chair from another seat and sat across from me. I looked closely at his name tag because I thought I remembered his face a little, and his name flashed through my mind.

‘Ah, the tailor’s son.’

Kim Gyu-il, the son of a repairman.

The third generation of the only children of Mrs. Hwang, who came up to Seoul from Busan. When I glanced at the children sitting around me, I could tell that they felt quite uncomfortable sitting with me. I could also see some displeasure in the eyes of some of the children.

“Hey, let’s eat quickly. There’s a soccer game with the guys from Junggye-dong today.”

“Oh really, ma’am?”

At Kim Gyu-il’s words, the children start to quickly play with their spoons.

It’s not like the kids just hate me. Why do they insist on eating with me?

“Hey, bean sprout. Are you a bean sprout today too?”

At Kim Gyu-il’s words, Hwang Dong-soo feeds him a fistful of potatoes with a look of disapproval.

I glanced over and turned my head. Hwang Dong-soo’s lunchbox contained only rice and bean sprout salad.

Perhaps you often get bean sprout salad as a side dish.

If that’s the kind of nickname I have, then when I escape the nickname Tanaka, I might be called Anchovy, or Kimchi.

A snicker burst out at the pointless thought.

“What, all of a sudden?”

Kim Kyu-il asks me.

“Oh, I just had a funny thought.”

The children look at me as if they are curious. Kim Gyu-il seems to think the same and asks me.

“What is it, is it Tanaka?”

What does that question mean?

“What does it mean?”

“I think it might be right to speak rudely.”

Kim Gyu-il speaks as if he knows me well, and the children nod their heads as if they agree.

I’m so curious, I can’t help it.

“I have a question.”

Kim Gyu-il interrupts me and says:

“I won’t tell you the name.”

Pick, laughter bursts out.

“No, that’s not what I’m curious about.”

“Then what?”

“Why do you eat with me?”

Kim Kyu-il speaks with a strange expression on his face.

“What are you talking about? We eat together all the time.”

“Me? With you?”

“uh.”

“why?”

Kim Kyu-il smiles brightly.

“Why, why, I wonder who said that I’m a Japanese.”

The children giggled.

“Aren’t we friends from the same neighborhood?”

I was momentarily surprised by Kim Gyu-il’s subsequent words.

“Friends? Us?”

Kim Gyu-il frowns.

“Anyway, it’s definitely Tanaka who has a rude way of speaking. Let’s shut up and eat quickly, we have to win the soccer game today.”

The children were playing with their spoons diligently, giggling.

I had to stop spooning for a moment.

‘Friend? Friend?’

I only vaguely remembered Kim Gyu-il’s face. I don’t remember the faces or even the names of the children eating lunch boxes around me.

‘perhaps.’

Maybe I had friends too, I just didn’t think of them that way.

Oh, to be exact, I didn’t think of those guys as friends. Maybe I was their friend from the beginning.

Because.

The kids eating in front of me now look so natural. As if it wasn’t something that happened just a day or two ago.

‘Friend, friend.’

It was the first time.

I heard someone say that I was their friend.