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Chapter 20

Amidst all this, Gomteng faces human malice head-on, while my mind is being eroded.

Siyeon, instead of sitting in front of a computer, commendably sat at a low desk and opened her backpack.

The thing I thought I wouldn’t have to do again with my own hands: the so-called homework.

“Maria, what is this?”

I looked at the page of the math book Siyeon held out, asking what it was.

The problem presented was 5 minus 3.

I could just tell her the answer, but that wouldn’t help a student whose head is still growing.

“Spread your left hand wide; how many did we say there were?”

“Five!”

“Then let’s fold three of these; how many are left?”

“Um, um… Two!”

“What did I say two is for?”

With a successfully conducted height-adjusted personalized education, the number 2 was drawn as curves from the tip of the pen.

Elementary students’ studying is just common sense at their level.

Up to this point, I could teach alongside without any difficulty.

“Good job, that’s the answer!”

“Yay.”

‘Elementary school studying is just….’

Thinking that way, I stuck beside Siyeon for a while, assisting her in solving the remaining homework.

The real problem begins in middle school.

I don’t remember anything above the level of elementary school learning after all.

Be it Venn diagrams, probability, or statistics, where would I even use them?

Even if I had to, there are countless calculators on the internet to help.

‘Oh, I had homework too, didn’t I?’

Watching Siyeon, I recalled my own homework late and quickly finished it by pushing the keyboard aside.

Even starting as soon as I got to school would’ve been enough to forget it.

Writing things like dictation or repeating a few characters takes no time at all.

I swiftly finished my homework enjoying an old-school game, and when Siyeon wrapped up her tasks, I concluded by showing her an animation.

The next day, on the way to school.

Cars cautiously passed through the narrow road in the child safety zone in front of the school.

At that moment, a loud car horn echoed, and followed by that, the sound of children laughing.

“Wahaha-!”

There’s no signal, just a narrow crosswalk.

Kids sprang out in front of the slowly moving cars, enjoying the thrill of barely getting past.

It’s the trend for kids around third grade to play a risky game of avoiding cars.

With the child safety zone buff, elementary school students enjoy an inviolable territory.

The oppressive laws that put all the blame on drivers allow the kids to exploit it.

Watching things like that only makes me cast a vote for the theory that humans are inherently evil.

‘If they keep playing like that, they’ll need to break a bone or two to learn their lesson.’

I murmured inwardly, recalling the countless news articles I had seen on the internet not long ago.

Some wicked kids reportedly intentionally hurled themselves at slow-moving cars, demanding settlement money at their age.

If they met a crazy driver, it would be instant death, yet these kids have no regard for their lives.

Kicking the indoor shoe pocket with all my might, I walked into the hallway through the door next to the school.

As always, the central corridor and stairs of the school were somehow off-limits to students.

I walked to the classroom without knowing the reason why.

‘Ah, I want to go home.’

That was the immediate thought once I sat down in class.

Living the school life of a first grader, where I learn the same common sense again.

Is there any more futile and meaningless time than this?

After waiting a bit, two slaves of the teacher arrived.

Tricked by the hollow titles of class president and vice-pres, two kids walked into the classroom carrying a plastic box filled with milk cartons.

Habitually getting up from my seat, I picked a milk carton out of the box at the front of the classroom and returned to my place.

Cookies and chocolate-flavored sticks I had put in the front pouch of my backpack to eat with milk.

First, I tore one side of the milk carton open and pulled to make a point, then twisted the stick using my thumb and index fingers to tear the entrance open.

“Hey, can’t you give me some too?”

Purely malicious little beasts gathered one by one, drawn in by the sweet scent of the powdered stick.

As expected, it’s come to this.

“Why should I?”

Without even tilting their heads, they just poured one stick directly into my milk carton.

Kids have no shame at all.

Not to mention, this little jerk who came crawling up to the front asking for a stick to mix in the milk.

Just a kid who’s never learned anything, making a nuisance claiming someone else’s name while talking about tteokbokki or whatever.

“I won’t tease you for being Kim Mal! Just one, please!”

Thinking they’re still kindergarteners, the little ones came clinging on with a tantrum.

“Thank you!”

“Me too! Me too!”

As I started giving one to one of them, the others slowly crept closer, eagerly waiting for their chance.

After all, it was just a pack of 20, only about 4,000 won’s worth of cheap sugar powder.

“Here, take it, you shameless and audacious little brats.”

I thought that controlling with food was the best way for such beasts.

Sprinkling the sticks I had put in my bag’s front pocket for them to eat.

“Whoa!”

Completely oblivious to the meaning of what I said, half the kids had their eyes glued to the sticks.

With fingers caught in between, they ravenously snatched the sticks like a game of chopsticks.

Among them, those little rascals who were teasing others by calling them Kim Mal.

It was most ridiculous that they were the first to grab one without any regard.

Do their parents not care, so they’ve taken to self-teaching etiquette?

It’s a pure question lingering in my heart.

Since I hadn’t let it slip out, I hadn’t spoken ill of their parents.

‘Shameless brats.’

After mentally cursing, I grabbed my milk pack with both small hands and vigorously shook it.

It hardly stayed closed, and a little milk dribbled out from the torn corner.

Holding the pack, I saw some milk splatter onto my thumb and index finger.

Licking it clean, I savored the faint taste of chocolate milk lingering on my tongue.

‘Not bad, huh?’

Even if it isn’t rich chocolate milk flavor, it wasn’t too shabby.

Far more to my taste than the artificially tasting strawberry or banana flavors.

There wasn’t enough to satisfy just by licking it.

In conclusion, I opened the milk pack I had shaken well and gulped it down all at once.

The small granules danced between my teeth, accompanied by the crunchiness and subtle sweetness of chocolate.

Most notably, the milk carton’s bottom.

There was almost no residue!

Even when mixed well, there’s usually something chunky left at the bottom of the pack, making it a splendid outcome compared to the other three types.

After the morning assembly, there’s a moment’s break before classes begin.

In reality, I didn’t need to listen unless it was the homework I had to do.

Still, there surely were classes I had to participate in.

“Alright, everyone! Today, draw a picture of yourself fulfilling your dreams!”

“Yes-!”

The classroom echoed with sharp screams, a collective response that sounded more like a scream than anything else.

Drawing kids’ voices that had just shed their baby sounds were like knives scraping my ears.

“Ugh.”

In that boisterous chorus, one voice stood out, drained of life.

The owner of that voice, what’s there to say.

Holding a gray crayon, I looked at the blank paper with a grimace.

This crayon might truly be the first time I’ve ever held one in this life.

For an entire hour, I only doodled mindlessly on the blank paper.

Kids were arguing over who used blue or not. They began squabbling over the smallest things.

The teacher roamed around the classroom, assessing the drawings of the kids diligently drawing or cutting down on fights.

Seeing what I hadn’t even considered made me realize the struggles of the teachers.

Ah, teacher.

I finally understand that agony.

“Alright, friends who want to present, please come forward and do so!”

After a while, the teacher was trying to select a few students to present based on class time.

You’d think not many kids would want to present, but….

“Me!”

“I want to do it too!”

A flurry of hands shot up from the kids, some even raising both hands high.

It indeed was a time when they want to show off.

“Okay, then. How about Hayaan coming to share?”

“My dream is to be a great doctor! I’ll create a world without sickness and pain!”

Doctors, teachers, YouTubers, chefs, police officers, professional gamers, magical girls, even soldiers.

Though one strange job snuck in there, there weren’t many unrealistic careers like president.

‘But there’s a soldier, huh?’

I tilted my head, thinking that they really are clueless kids.

Don’t worry about that.

Even if they didn’t want it later, they’d surely have some experience.

“Hmph.”

A sigh of resignation slipped out naturally.

After all the raised hands had presented, yet the bell signaling recess still hadn’t rung.

Perhaps because of that, questions seemed to be coming this way.

“Let’s see, who hasn’t presented yet….”

The teacher looked around, trying to find someone who hadn’t presented.

That included me.

Immediately avoiding the teacher’s searching gaze, I buried my face in the shadow of the teacher’s desk.

But that was useless.

The teacher wouldn’t miss noticing a kid with their head down.

“Maria, why don’t you share what your dream is?”

‘Oh, come on.’

I hoped I’d get a free pass, but due to being in the front row, I got caught.

No choice, I pulled my chair back and moved to the teacher’s desk to show everyone the drawing I had done.

It was just one lonely tall building, nothing resembling a person.

The job everyone on the modern day dreams of.

Finally saying out loud that noble job.

“My dream is to be a wealthy landlord.”

“Um…?”

The teacher, smiling brightly while looking at me, stiffened her expression as soon as she heard that first line.

I paused slightly and glanced at the teacher before continuing my interrupted words.

“With wealth and time as a true rich person, I just want to lay around my room every day, ordering my favorite delivery food, and having the money roll into my bank….”

“Okay, that’s enough! Good job on your presentation!”

When I got to about halfway through, the teacher, suddenly flustered, quickly cut me off.

I was just getting started.


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