Chapter 206
Chapter 206
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 206
Chapter Title: Kairos (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The winner's name swirled onto the screen.
「Jack Black」
Jack Black?
What the hell was this about Jack Black?
Shouldn't it be Kairos?
For a split second, I was dumbfounded, but then I saw the red-haired man on the podium flashing a bright smile and holding up two fingers. That erased any doubts.
Not his index and middle fingers, but his thumb and index—the habit was unmistakable.
That arm angle, that smile. It couldn't be anyone else.
So his alias was Jack Black?
Jack?
Jack??
"You watch F1?"
Chen's voice snapped me back to reality.
Blinking, I looked down to find the seniors staring right through me.
I cleared my throat and rasped,
"Do you know that driver?"
"Who? The winner?"
"Yes."
"You don't know Jack Black?"
The curly-haired guy—who went by 'Triple'—suddenly chimed in as he silently shoveled curry into his mouth.
I was caught off guard by the abrupt comment.
What should I say? That I knew him? That I didn't?
I didn't need to agonize over it.
The senior who'd spoken just kept rattling on with the explanation.
"The legendary rookie who's held the F1 championship throne for nearly four straight years, and you don't know him? Even in his debut six years ago, he posted eye-popping results. A year later, he rocketed up, and since then, he's never missed a win. Nicknamed Blackjack. He favors smooth driving but can switch to ultra-aggressive when needed—people say his style sometimes changes like he's a whole different driver. He's got a massive fandom, and every time he shows up at a circuit..."
"Got it, got it."
Jason Tvein waved him off, cutting Triple short.
Looked like this was a regular thing with him.
Triple didn't seem thrilled, but he shut up readily. In that moment, I understood why Jason Tvein was called the bully of the group.
Tvein was top dog among the three.
He'd probably lived that kind of life forever. The type who'd obviously been on the rugby team in high school.
No wonder he couldn't stomach Ye-hyeon stealing his promotion ball.
He wasn't likable by any means, but he wasn't immature enough to show his true feelings outright.
"That guy's so famous, I should check out some race footage."
I turned my head, coughed a couple times, then added,
"The race is over now, right?"
Can't you tell from the podium ceremony? came the snide retort.
They went back to their own conversation. I was satisfied that all three had shifted their attention away from me and turned back to the screen.
Ah, there it is.
That smooth handling, that slick fan service.
He'd cut his hair short, but it had to be him.
***
My head was ringing, but I ignored it. I couldn't help myself.
Even on the drive back, I'd wanted so badly to check my phone.
I parked haphazardly, rushed inside, and fired up the computer.
After washing my face like a cat, I dove headfirst into searches, forgetting everything else.
Jack Black.
A star with overflowing charisma, commanding a huge fandom and the highest salary among drivers.
He flawlessly met sponsor demands, and products he endorsed always saw sales skyrocket—earning him the nickname Midas Touch in the industry.
The more I searched, the more I let out hollow chuckles. He hadn't changed much from the man I knew.
Here, too, he refused to yield the victor's seat.
A body honed by exercise, impeccable manners.
His backstory checked out. Parents deceased in a car accident. Schooling done online. Then odd jobs until he grabbed a steering wheel...
Official age: 29, on the cusp of thirty.
He'd laundered his identity once.
I pulled up photos of his four-year win streak, then hunted down every interview video.
Hitting play brought a familiar voice to my ears.
So familiar, it ached with longing.
[Thank you. Thanks to your support, I was able to deliver great results.]
The flashy team uniform, the cap pulled low—he pulled them off effortlessly.
[The team members all gave outstanding performances...]
I dazedly replayed the interviews.
Then, half out of my mind, I logged into a fan site.
Naturally, there was way more info here. I devoured every post compiling sightings, photos, anecdotes, and trivia.
He never skips workouts. Fan service is top-notch, and he's even more dazzling in person. His eyes are gorgeous. He owns four sports cars. He's single. Right now, racing is so fun he can't spare energy for anything else...
Is that why he hasn't come looking?
I stared blankly at the airbrushed photo of Kairos.
Because he's too happy right now?
No time or desire to look around?
He did look genuinely happy. He'd always worn that expression climbing into the cockpit.
A subtle emotion welled up in me.
Good thing he's happy.
My first thought. I was truly glad he was living a fulfilling life.
But it would be a lie to say a tiny pang of disappointment didn't bloom in one corner of my heart.
If I hadn't made that game, I wouldn't feel this way at all.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, letting out a hollow laugh.
Well, thinking about it, that message never said he'd come find me first. Just that he'd wait somewhere easy to find.
Yeah, right.
"Is he telling me to come to him, or does he just want to forget I exist?"
The latter seemed more likely.
"I still can't figure him out."
Anyway, I had to go see him.
Even if Kairos found it awkward. I couldn't bear not seeking out a fellow kin living inside the Core. Even if we couldn't talk, I wanted to see his face.
I straightened up from the chair back and glued myself to the computer again.
The race was over, but...
[Jack Black Official Schedule]
A guy this famous—I could stalk him and catch a glimpse at least.
Coughing, I spun the wheel click-click-click.
Oh.
Fan signing in two days. Sponsor event at the track in three.
Signings and events were, of course, sold out.
But scalped tickets? Bound to be some.
I'd snag one for sure.
Blue flu?
Kairos has antibodies, probably.
If not, his problem.
I tossed my conscience aside and dove into hunting scalps and cancellations.
***
"Man, it's been forever since I saw someone catch this."
Samuel clucked his tongue.
"It was a huge thing back in the day. You didn't get vaccinated, right? Nowadays, they make it mandatory in infancy, so no one gets it."
I eyed the doctor with hollow eyes.
I'd barely eaten yesterday, glued to the computer until I scored a cancellation for the sponsor event. I'd stared at screens till dawn, so sleep was short.
Gotta crash as soon as I get home.
I slipped my mask back on after the exam.
Coughing, I nodded.
My throat hurt like hell.
"How long?"
"A week. Don't come to work. I'll handle sick leave. I'll prescribe meds—take 'em, stay home, and rest. It's not severe enough for admission."
"Thanks."
"Your voice is completely shot."
Even I could tell.
"Go home and rest, kid. How is it you never have a healthy day?"
I bowed my head and left the hospital.
After that, I somehow made it home in a daze—I barely remembered how. Shoved down lunch and meds from the cafeteria, then headed back.
Once there, I crawled under the covers and passed out.
The meds must've helped; sleep kept crashing over me.
This bug is brutal. I'd never been laid out like this without an injury—I had no idea.
Should've been nicer to those blue flu victims back then.
Wallowing in useless regrets, I kept sleeping.
At least a week's sick leave was a silver lining...
***
"Hilde."
Someone gently shook me.
"Hilde. Get up for dinner."
"Mm?"
I wanted to sleep more.
I buried my face in the pillow, mumbled, and tugged the blanket.
The person softly pulled the blanket down and woke me carefully again.
"Just get up, eat, and sleep more."
I didn't want to leave this warmth.
"You need your meds. Just chicken soup and bed."
Maybe.
I'd slept so long my eyelids were heavy.
Rubbing my eyes, I hauled my feverish body up.
Then I spotted Ye-hyeon.
"Huh?"
My cracked voice leaked out.
"Why?"
"Heard you were sick."
Ye-hyeon was dressed casually.
I stared blankly at my boss in a t-shirt, then turned away. The glow-in-the-dark wall clock read 9:30 PM.
Slept a while, huh.
Blinking, I tried crawling out of bed.
But Ye-hyeon pushed me back down.
"Lie down. I'll bring it."
"You're busy enough—why come to this dump? Oh. For Byeongaebaek?"
"To see my sick godfather."
Ye-hyeon smiled gently.
"Figured you'd be suffering alone."
He brought chicken soup. Ami made it, he said. He was hopeless at cooking. She always made it for his gastritis flare-ups—easy on the throat.
"...No taste..."
So sad.
Still, grateful for the effort, I polished it off.
Swallowed my meds after, then got tucked back in.
"You don't even sleep well normally—go home and rest."
Buried in blankets, I mumbled in a hazy daze.
Couldn't even see Ye-hyeon properly, eyes half-closed.
"You barely get five hours solid. Go home. I went to the doctor today..."
"Being sick alone is pitiful."
Ye-hyeon murmured softly, fussing beside me.
"I'll tidy up a bit, then go. Just rest."
Lee Seung-hyun must've left you alone.
Guess that's how you learned the sorrow of being left sick and solo. My heart ached. A line from that elder's journal popped into my head—the one submitted to court, emotionless accounts of vivid violence scars.
Wanted to comfort him, but my head was too foggy.
Too much headache and drowsiness...
I blacked out into sleep.
When I woke, it wasn't Ye-hyeon—it was someone else.
"Knew it'd be like this~."
First time hearing his voice at the cabin.
"Get up~. Eat breakfast and crash..."
Already morning?
I staggered up and stared blankly at the green eyes.
Then a thought hit me, and I jolted upright. Ricardo—striped shirt, glasses, looking down at me—blinked.
"Why?"
"It's not Friday yet, right?"
Speaking triggered a cough fit; I ducked my head hurriedly.
Only after I'd stifled it did the senior answer.
"Wednesday~."
"Ah. Thanks."
"What's on Friday~?"
He wouldn't buy "nothing."
I smiled faintly and gave a half-truth.
"There's a race I'm into—gonna catch it."
Ricardo looked puzzled about the sudden race but didn't pry.
Instead, he shoved a plate at me.
"...Still no taste."
I chewed the nyoki with a voice full of despair.
It had to be delicious.
No flavor at all. Felt like massive losses.
Muttering sadly if he could make it again later, he snorted.
Meds down, back to bed I went.
"Sleep~."
Thanks for coming all this way, I wanted to say...
"Stay put all day..."
That's how the next two days went.
They rotated in and out. Ami after Ricardo, Yoon after Ami, and shockingly, Kudo after Yoon.
After Kudo, even more shockingly, the HR Director.
"Why's the HR Director here?"
"Heard you were sick, came to check. Plus reassure you a bit."
HR Director grinned—said he'd leave soon, no worries—and served me egg drop soup.
Warm, but tasteless clear broth.
"He's doing well."
About Byeongaebaek.
"Can't release him to society yet, but I'm keeping him safe. Don't worry too much."
But he needed time. Lots of it—not short-term.
I wiped cold sweat from my lashes and nodded slowly.
HR Director smiled brightly and left promptly.
Drifting in a haze like that, Friday rolled around fast.
Sponsor event day.
***
"Achoo!"
Friday.
Masked up, bundled tight, I stood at the circuit.
Today's friendly circuit race.
Not official, but packed with big-name drivers—tickets had been a bloodbath. I'd dragged my heavy body here to see one of them.
Jack Black.
To see Formula 1 champ Kairos's face.
Damn, it's freezing, though.
Bundled and still too cold.
Hunched over, I trudged to my seat.
Anyway, today I had to lay eyes on his face no matter what.