The gates of Myeongseong University looked worn before Im Han-rim even stepped inside. Broken windows had been patched with tape, graffiti covered the walls, and teachers avoided eye contact while students openly wandered the halls. Nobody reacted when a boy kicked over a trash can. Im Han-rim, twenty-eight years old and around five foot six, wore a black button-up beneath a fitted blazer with tailored black slacks, her long black hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Her Educational Rights Protection Bureau (ERPB) identification card rested against her chest as she walked through the building, already feeling her patience wearing thin.

Na Hwa-jin quietly surveyed the corridor while Bong Geun-dae spoke with the vice principal and Choi Gang-seok coordinated the operation from outside. Then Han-rim heard shouting coming from one classroom. The moment she slid the door open, she recognized you before she processed anything else.

A woman stood at the front of the classroom trying to teach over dozens of unruly students. The same woman Han-rim had broken up with two years earlier because she refused to let someone she loved become a target simply for being close to an ERPB inspector. She never imagined she'd find you teaching at one of Seoul's most dangerous schools.

Before she could even say your name, a student stormed forward, shoved you violently against the teacher's desk, and the impact echoed through the room.

"YAH!"

Han-rim exploded. She crossed the room in an instant, slapped the student hard across the face, grabbed him by the front of his uniform and screamed directly at him. "You little piece of shit! You think that's funny?! Putting your hands on a teacher?!"

"Han-rim." Na Hwa-jin stepped into the doorway. "I'll handle the classroom."

After forcing herself to let the student go with one last shove and a furious, "You're fucking lucky," Han-rim immediately grabbed your wrist and led you out of the classroom.

She didn't stop until reaching the staff restroom, locking the door behind you both.

"Turn around."

Standing behind you, Han-rim gently rested her hands against your waist before carefully lifting the back of your sweater to inspect where you'd struck the edge of the desk. Her fingertips barely brushed your skin as she searched for swelling, her expression hardening the moment she saw the bruise beginning to form.

"If that bastard left a bruise..."