Ch.18I love you, Dad. Give me allowance (3)

“Haa… Haa… Finally finished. This should be enough to keep your mom from complaining.”

“…We burned it white.”

The dojo cleaning that started on Saturday afternoon only ended in the middle of Sunday night.

My dad and I, who had spent a day without sleep in the dojo’s basement storage, were only able to emerge after our hair had turned gray from ceiling dust.

“Good job. I thought it would never end even if we worked all weekend, but thanks to my daughter, we finished by Sunday. Doyoung, have you gotten better at working?”

“Hmm, I guess so.”

“Sorting garbage by category, thoroughly wiping dust from between shelves without being told, scrubbing stains and mold off the floor… Anyone would think you’d been to the military.”

“Ha, hawawa…”

They say a Korean high school girl’s combat power equals that of two well-trained soldiers.

So if one could have a military veteran’s mindset in a high school girl’s body,

By simple calculation, one would gain cleaning skills nearly twice as effective.

“Anyway, well done, Sister Ban Doyoung.”

“Don’t give me praise, give me money.”

“Of course. If you’ve worked hard, you deserve a REWARD.”

“Woohoo!”

Allowance opportunity spotted.

Dad happily accepted my proposal for allowance with a pleased smile.

I thought compensation for labor would be paid in blood-relation currency, so it was somewhat unexpected.

Thanks to this, I no longer needed to raid the piggy bank of Ban Doyoung’s brother who was away in the military, which had been my initial goal.

“I’ll add it to next month’s allowance, so write it on the table calendar.”

“Huh? It would be better if you gave it to me now. I’m completely broke. I can’t even sing one song at the karaoke.”

“How long has it been since you got your allowance? If it’s not money received on the promised day, you’ll just spend it recklessly. I’ll give you plenty when it’s time for your next allowance.”

My father’s educational philosophy of raising a strong daughter was firm.

With such a convincing reason behind my dad’s refusal, I couldn’t throw any further tantrums.

Not giving in to all of a child’s whims,

And appropriately balancing rewards and discipline was respectable both as a father and as an adult.

Except for the fact that the reason for cleaning the storage over the weekend was because he was afraid of his wife.

“Put your gym clothes in the laundry basket and take a bath. If you go to school with that hair tomorrow, everyone will think you’re their grandmother.”

“What kind of grandmother would I be?”

After finishing cleaning, I took a bath and lay down on my bed.

Apart from wasting a day on cleaning, it wasn’t a bad weekend as my first time being Ban Doyoung.

“Phew, refreshing. Now I can finally get some sleep—”

“Ban Doyoung, wake up! You’re late!”

“Ah, stop lying. I just lay down, what are you talking about.”

I picked up my phone next to my pillow to check the time.

[Monday 7:30 AM Alarm]

[Monday 7:50 AM Alarm]

.

.

.

[Monday 8:10 AM Alarm]

[Monday 8:20 AM Alarm]

[Monday 8:40 AM Alarm]

“…Monday can go fuck itself.”

And so Sunday became Monday without even a moment to catch my breath.

.

.

.

Have you ever seen a scene in a youth romance school story where the main heroine runs out shouting “I’m late” repeatedly?

Disheveled hair, a bag with one strap barely hanging on her shoulder.

And a piece of toast in her mouth.

It’s now more of a classic than a cliché.

“Shit! Chikoku, chikoku!” (Late, late!)

And now I, who had fallen into <Half of Bando>, was reenacting it.

“What’s the point of living 5 minutes from school! I was already late when I woke up!”

There are mainly two reasons why scenes of heroines running late appear.

The first is to set up the first meeting between the protagonist and the heroine.

‘Ouch!’

‘What the—who runs in such a narrow passage!’

‘Hmph, who told you to walk around staring at the sky?’

A boy and girl colliding at a street corner.

Blaming each other before hurriedly leaving due to time constraints.

It’s clearly the worst first impression created by coincidence.

But it soon provides a special starting line and reason to be aware of each other

in high school where everyone else meets on equal terms.

Even if it’s a somewhat embarrassing beginning,

That special quality makes the two become conscious of each other,

And the coincidence eventually becomes destiny that connects them.

It’s a simple development, but because it has a pure resonance born from that simplicity,

It has been loved by many creators for a long time.

Even if the beginning might be crude,

What matters is having a different catalyst than others.

It’s not for nothing that in Korean folktales, the deer tells the woodcutter to steal the fairy’s winged clothes.

‘From today, I’m the new male student.’

‘Huh? You’re that rude person from before!’

‘Ah, the white strawberry panties from this morning?’

And the second reason.

This development was necessary for us to know what kind of underwear the heroine usually wears.

“Just around this corner—!”

In stories, the heroine’s tardiness isn’t just a simple mishap,

But an important event that can spark the protagonist’s interest and affection.

And now I am Ban Doyoung, the main heroine of <Half of Bando>.

Naturally, such events could happen to me as well.

I’ll dash around this corner right now,

And prove it.

-Thud!

“Ow… What are you doing? You should watch where you’re—”

“So you finally showed up.”

“Ah, Teacher Lee Hakju. Hello.”

And so I collided with the disciplinary teacher who had been waiting at the spot where late students often rush out.

“The rule is to arrive by 8:20, but what time is it now?”

“Ah, it’s 8:55.”

Do Hamin wasn’t there.

Of course, a long-distance commuter who takes the early morning train and arrives first at school wouldn’t be here at this time.

By the time I woke up,

He would have already arrived at school.

In other words, I couldn’t meet Hamin here, couldn’t bump into him and fall,

And couldn’t show him what pattern of underwear I was wearing.

“Go over there where the other late students are gathered and do push-ups.”

“Fuck.”

I was just screwed.

**

In the school that Ban Doyoung attends in <Half of Bando>, corporal punishment still exists.

Whether it reflects the author’s educational views, or they’re just old and don’t know current school rules.

Thanks to that, almost 10 years after graduating high school,

I was somehow on my hands and knees in front of the school gate again.

“Get hit in the order you arrived and then go to your classroom.”

Bulsa High School was known as a hockey powerhouse in the setting.

As a result, the teachers conducting morning inspections always had hockey sticks as their standard equipment.

-Whack!

“Tss…!”

-Whack!

“Haht!”

-Whack!

“Aack!”

Every time the flat side of the hockey stick met the late students’ bottoms,

A sound like wind escaping from their mouths could be heard.

“Uh, uhh…”

“What, they really hit that hard?”

“Why is Hakju in charge when I’m late…”

The first-year students who initially thought they’d just take the punishment and be done.

Especially some of the girls started trembling after hearing the sounds of seniors getting hit.

“Do-Doyoung, can’t you talk to Hakju and tell him not to hit the girls?”

“Huh? Me?”

“We’ll back you up from behind! Help us just this once like you did before, you don’t want to get hit either…!”

Some of the girls trying to avoid Hakju’s hockey stick gathered around me.

They seemed to expect me to speak up as their representative, like during the entrance ceremony.

Of course, I didn’t want to get hit by a teacher 10 years after graduating high school,

So I accepted the other girls’ opinions, since they said they would back me up.

“Next. Step forward.”

“Teacher! I have a suggestion!”

And so, under the protection of the other girls,

I raised my hand and spoke boldly to Hakju.

“What is it? Let’s hear it.”

“It’s wrong for a male teacher to hit female students!”

“Th-that’s right! A male teacher hitting girls’ bottoms! That’s basically sexual harassment!”

“Human rights violation! We’ll report this to the education office!”

“I thought you might say that, so we arranged for Teacher Yeo Miso to hit the girls.”

“Huh?”

Meanwhile, Teacher Miso, who had finished inspection at the back gate and returned to the main gate.

The disciplinary teacher handed over his hockey stick to her.

“All the boys go in. Teacher Miso, please take care of the rest.”

“Y-yes…! Leave it to me, Teacher Lee!”

“Pick up 10 pieces of trash each on your way to the classroom, begin!”

And so, only the late female students remained at the school gate,

Along with Teacher Miso who had inherited the disciplinary teacher’s hockey stick.

“T-Teacher Miso…? Since there are no other teachers watching, can’t we just pick up some trash and go in?”

“No, Ban Doyoung. If I don’t do this properly, you’ll all disrespect the rules and be late again tomorrow. That’s not good for any of you.”

I could see Teacher Miso’s hands trembling as she held the hockey stick.

Being relatively new to teaching, she probably had never administered corporal punishment to students before.

“Girls, let’s just get hit quickly and be done with it. There’s nothing to gain by resisting.”

Perhaps it was fortunate.

Compared to the sturdy disciplinary teacher, Teacher Miso was much shorter with very thin arms.

On top of that, she was having trouble holding the hockey stick, gripping it with both hands that were visibly shaking, so she couldn’t possibly swing like the disciplinary teacher had.

“I’m sorry, Teacher Miso. Hit me comfortably since I’ve caused you distress.”

I was the first to lie down in front of the teacher.

I had been the first to speak up for the others, and she was also my homeroom teacher.

“I-I’ve never hit students before, but I’ve made up my mind this time. For your futures.”

“Teacher, did you just say ‘funeral’…?”

“I’ll swing with all my might like Teacher Lee…!”

-Swoosh

Teacher Miso’s hockey stick rose high into the air.

Instead of the sound of wind resistance that came when the disciplinary teacher held it, it made a sound like a blade cutting through the air.

“Wait, Teacher Miso, you’re holding the hockey stick vertically! Vertically!”

“That’s not a swing, that’s a slash! You’re going to cut me!”

“Prepare yourself, Ban Doyoung!”

-Slash!

The hockey stick turned sword fell toward Ban Doyoung’s bottom.

.

.

.

“Wow, they say those who’ve been hit know how to hit better. I really thought I was going to die. My butt almost split into four pieces.”

“Ah….”

“I tried to lower my bottom slightly to avoid it, but suddenly the hockey stick flew toward my calf. It’s fortunate that I was the first to get hit, if one of the more fragile girls had been hit first, they might have been cut in half.”

“W-well, but…”

“Hm? What’s ‘but’? Do you have a problem with my story, model student?”

“No… Isn’t something strange?”

During break time after enduring Teacher Miso’s punishment.

Hamin was looking at me as I had my swollen leg, which had been hit by the hockey stick, resting on his knee.

“Y-you come in late and the first thing you do is put your leg on my knee, that doesn’t seem right…”

“Ah… That’s true.”

I slightly lifted the hem of my skirt at an angle that would be visible to Hamin.

“See, white with lime pattern.”

“N-not that! Remove your leg!”

It might have been a bit late,

But I had to show what needed to be shown.