Criminal.

Once a person passes a certain age, the word potential tends to precede it.

Or maybe that label has been there since birth.

Humans are unpredictable beings. A single moment of whim can lead to a lifelong red mark.

A split-second lapse in judgment can dictate the course of an entire life.

We humans must always be cautious, lest a reckless decision turns us into criminals.

Why am I saying this?

Because even our school has produced a criminal.

And everyone knows who it is—Kim Byung-Jun.

***

Two weeks have passed since the retreat.

In that time, our school has become a potential delinquent school.

Notice the emphasis on potential. We’re not completely tarnished yet.

Thanks to one student, the school's reputation has hit rock bottom, and its public image has plummeted.

Kim Byung-Jun’s grand performance has thrown the entire school into a state of emergency.

Naturally, the victims came to the school demanding answers.

And, as expected, I got a fresh perspective on Kim Byung-Jun’s parents.

Of course, I didn’t interact with them. He wasn’t even in our class.

This was a problem for Class 1 to resolve.

Still, through the grapevine, I caught wind of how the situation unfolded, and it was... entertaining.

Under the Juvenile Act, anyone aged 10 to 19 is subject to its provisions.

Those aged 14 to 19 can face criminal punishment, though protective measures are far more likely.

For minors, the harshest sentence is a long-term juvenile detention.

But what made this situation intriguing was that, despite the severity of the charges, the verdict leaned toward protective measures.

The result? Two years in juvenile detention—the maximum under protective measures.

I don’t know what kind of external influence played a role, but here’s my guess:

Even though it was a charge of grievous bodily harm, factors such as his minor status, being a first offender, the extent of the victim’s injuries, the circumstances of the incident, and even his supposed remorse likely played a part.

Not that I believe Kim Byung-Jun actually felt remorse, but hey, the verdict is final.

The school also announced his transfer, which was inevitable.

The only disappointing part was that he didn’t face full criminal punishment.

Not that I had a soft spot for him.

So, he’ll spend two years in juvenile detention and then return to middle school?

I’m not entirely sure how that works. Legalities aren’t my forte.

Anyway, the aftermath was predictable: teachers faced a barrage of complaints from parents and a thorough scolding from the principal and vice principal.

“Teacher, did you not sleep well?”

“Three days.”

“Excuse me?”

“The time I haven’t slept. Three days.”

“Uh…”

With dark circles practically touching his jawline, the teacher stared blankly at his computer.

I felt a pang of sympathy and considered making him some coffee, but where would I find a coffee pot in the classroom?

Better to back off and stop being a distraction.

Kim Byung-Jun didn’t show up at school after the retreat.

He went straight from probation to juvenile detention, leaving no chance of running into him.

The victim, meanwhile, kept pressuring the school with the four-week prognosis for their injury.

It was unfortunate, but there wasn’t much the teachers could do.

...Probably.

Well, I’m sure they resolved it somehow. The school’s reputation can always be rebuilt.

The incident had significant repercussions, though. For us students, it meant stricter rules.

The entire school would be quieter for a while.

People are inherently potential criminals. That’s a fact.

Punishments, however, come with age.

Whether as a child or an adult, there are consequences for one's actions.

As a child, parents take responsibility; as an adult, you bear it yourself.

The only thing that changes is the form of accountability.

“What are you drawing, Ha-Eun?”

“A monster.”

Not Kim Byung-Jun, of course. I was drawing a person and simply calling it a monster.

...Any resemblance is purely coincidental.

From a certain perspective, criminals are monsters. Their actions are unpredictable.

Who knows if the random passerby on the street might suddenly pull a knife and wreak havoc?

People shouldn’t be trusted. Even with mutual trust built, belief is a different matter.

That’s why I define belief as something unchanging.

Something eternal—like God or objects.

For me, it’s the latter: objects, specifically my art.

“Still…”

Ten years can change a landscape.

I trust my family and Ha Soo-Yul.

Because to me, they’re unchanging.

‘Though that’s just my stubborn belief.’

So what? I’m the one defining it. Exceptions exist for a reason.

If you don’t like it, you can be Lee Ha-Eun yourself.

“Not all monsters have to be people.”

I tore up the paper and tossed it into the trash can.

The crumpled drawing disappeared, replaced by a blank white sheet.

Portraits change with perspective.

Depending on whether it’s from the artist’s view or the model’s, it varies.

But somehow, Ha Soo-Yul, sitting next to me, defies that rule.

No matter the angle, her defining features always stand out. It’s fascinating.

I pressed my pen to the paper, starting with her face and moving down to her upper body, then her lower body.

It was class time, but no one paid me any attention.

That’s why I like this spot.

No one bothers me. It’s perfect. Thrilling. Always fresh.

But I felt two pairs of eyes on me.

Let me guess—Ha Soo-Yul and Choi Ye-Seo?

“Aren’t you paying attention?”

“Draw me too!”

She whispered, but somehow added emphasis.

Choi Ye-Seo, what even are you?

The people around me keep surprising me with odd traits.

My homeroom teacher? A married man with a kid despite his questionable face.

My dad? A seemingly average man who turned out to be a department head at a major corporation.

And my mom? She manages my YouTube channel, which now has an insane subscriber count.

The channel started generating revenue years ago, making her earnings comparable to my dad’s salary.

Thanks to that, my little sister Yoon could have anything she wanted.

She was practically Princess Lee Ha-Yoon.

If this were a parenting show, it would be brimming with happy, wholesome content.

Yoon grew up wonderfully, without a single rough edge.

She was popular at school, academically excellent, though not much of an athlete—likely due to genetics.

But who cares? My sister can do whatever she wants!

Today, I was once again a doting older brother.

“I’ll draw you, but pay attention. Hey, the teacher’s watching you.”

“Eek! ...Oh, wait, no he’s not.”

Choi Ye-Seo quickly turned around at my warning.

Only to lock eyes with the science teacher holding a piece of chalk.

...Okay, not really. The teacher was still writing on the board.

“Ugh, Lee Ha-Eun! After school, you owe me snacks!”

“No thanks. I don’t eat much anyway.”

“Whatever. We’re the ones eating it, right, Soo-Yul?”

“Ye-Seo, pig.”

“...Soo-Yul?”

Despite her betrayed expression, Ha Soo-Yul’s eyes stayed fixed on my notebook.

“No colors, though. I don’t have colored pencils.”

I tore the paper silently and handed it to her.

Judging by her bright smile, she really liked her portrait.

“Hey, me next!”

“Alright, golden child.”

“You wanna die?!”

How does she manage that accent?

Encountering new quirks every day has become a daily source of entertainment.

‘Worrying about it is just a waste of my energy.’

“Look at this, Ha-Eun!”

Just as I was about to start Choi Ye-Seo’s portrait, Ha Soo-Yul extended her fist toward me.

“Ta-da.”

“What is it?”

In her hand was a shark-shaped phone charm.

Where had I seen this design before?

“Custom-made.”

“Wait, is this from my drawing?”

“Yup.”

No wonder it looked familiar. It resembled a cherry blossom shark I had drawn near the school store.

She must’ve used that as a reference.

“And Ye-Seo…”

Ha Soo-Yul called Choi Ye-Seo, who immediately turned her head.

“Here.”

“Wow! Is this for me?!”

From her other hand, Ha Soo-Yul handed over a pink orca phone charm.

Choi Ye-Seo’s delighted grin stretched wide, showing her gums.

...Is it strange?

Well, it would feel trashy to call such a happy sight unpleasant.

“Here, Ye-Seo.”

I finished her portrait and handed it over.

Normally, I’d add a little mischief to her drawings, but I decided to do it properly this time.

“...Thanks. Both of you.”

Her voice trembled, and her eyes welled up.

Still, she seemed happy, which oddly made me feel a bit proud.

“This will go straight into a frame in my room!”

She cheerfully swayed her shoulders.

“Before you frame that, solve this problem first.”

“Eek! Teacher! Were you watching?!”

“You’ve been muttering nonstop. How could I not notice?”

“Ugh, but I was whispering…”

Her mood plummeted instantly.

At this point, she should get checked for bipolar disorder.

As Choi Ye-Seo nervously approached the board, I glanced outside at the clear, blue sky.

My thoughts?

‘It’s gonna be scorching hot when I walk home.’

What a trivial worry.

Good weather means nothing if I’m gonna pass out from heat exhaustion.

***

“Oh, I almost forgot. Teacher, when’s our reward coming?”

“Ah, right. I forgot too.”

A duo destined for chaos.