Chapter 8
Chapter 8
“Our son!”
Overcome with excitement, Seongcheol lifted his son into the air. Just recently, he had been thinking that Insu was getting heavier and harder to carry, but now all such thoughts vanished as surprise and joy moved him instinctively.
“Huh?”
Insu was slightly startled, but he soon broke into a bright smile in his father’s arms. Though he was different from ordinary children, he was still a child. He instinctively sensed and empathized with his parents’ emotions, and before he realized it, he too became swept up in their excitement and happiness.
No. Wait.
He barely regained his composure. Showing off his work was not the end goal. For a moment, he had almost forgotten his true objective. Rolling his eyes slightly as he gauged the mood, Insu carefully spoke again.
“Um, Dad.”
By now, calling him “Dad” felt completely natural. Even though he retained memories of his previous life, his identity as five-year-old Insu had become stronger, so the awkward phase had not lasted very long. Besides, he had never really experienced having a father in his previous life, so there were no real memories for comparison.
“Hm? What is it?”
“Well... I want to become someone who makes games.”
It sounded abrupt, but in another sense, it was obvious even without saying it aloud. A five-year-old child had already created something this convincing. It would have been impossible if it were not something he genuinely wanted to do.
“Really?”
“But there’s just not enough time. This is only a tiny part of the game I want to make, and it still took almost ten days.”
Insu checked carefully to make sure his father was listening seriously before licking his lips once and continuing.
“So... would it be okay if I stopped going to kindergarten?”
“Huh? Kindergarten?”
Fortunately, his father did not explode in anger. Instead, he simply looked troubled and thoughtful rather than answering immediately.
“Let me think about it first, and we’ll talk again later.”
“Yes!”
Seongcheol smiled once at his son before walking over to Hyein. Then he pointed toward the master bedroom and gestured as if suggesting they move there to talk privately.
Hyein, who had already been listening to the conversation, immediately nodded and stood up.
“Honey!”
The moment the bedroom door closed behind them, Hyein finally burst out in a low but reproachful whisper, as though she had been holding herself back.
“No, listen first.”
Seongcheol raised a hand toward her in a calming gesture. Then, seeing her cross her arms as if demanding an explanation, he spoke in a low voice thick with excitement.
“Our son is a genius!”
“...A genius?”
Hyein still looked displeased, but she slowly uncrossed her arms as she repeated the word. She had been proud that he made something impressive on the computer, but she had only thought of it at that level. Hearing the word “genius” made it suddenly feel entirely different.
“Yes. A genius!”
“To that extent?”
At her skeptical question, Seongcheol responded with a slightly frustrated expression.
“This thing called coding isn’t easy at all. To make games with it, you’d have to learn English well enough to speak fluently with Americans. No, it’s much harder than that. It requires mathematical and logical thinking too.”
Hyein, who had majored in English at university, imagined Insu speaking fluent English and looked astonished. Seeing that reaction, Seongcheol continued speaking.
“There’s a programmer in America who’s called a genius, and even he didn’t start making programs until he was twelve.”
Now Hyein wore a similar expression to Seongcheol’s, filled with joy and excitement.
For a brief moment, the thought crossed her mind that although Insu had always been bright, he had never seemed like a true genius. But soon her thinking shifted toward the idea that perhaps he was specifically a genius in computers.
Unless one lived in some primitive medieval age, few modern mothers would jump straight to occult explanations and start suspecting their own child.
And perhaps part of it was simply that she herself wanted her son to be a genius.
“...But even so, isn’t pulling him out of kindergarten a bit much?”
Seongcheol shook his head at her words.
“Those American geniuses drop out of school and follow their own path, don’t they? School and kindergarten exist to help children who don’t know their direction yet. Truly exceptional people find their own way themselves.”
He deliberately chose not to add that he felt Insu had already found his path.
“...Is that so?”
“And besides, it’s only kindergarten. Doesn’t Insu already know everything they teach there anyway?”
“That’s true, but...”
At first, Hyein instinctively resisted because it felt as though Insu was straying from a normal life. But once she began thinking of him as “special,” her perspective gradually changed.
Hearing stories about successful Americans also influenced her greatly. Even in the twenty-first century that Insu remembered, people were heavily influenced by such stories, and in the 1980s, there was still a saying that “even American garbage is good.”
This world was no different.
In the end, Insu managed to receive permission from his mother as well.
“But you can’t just stay home all the time. And besides computers, you still have to study other things too.”
“Yes!”
Insu answered enthusiastically.
After all, he already retained memories of having gone all the way through university in his previous life. Of course, he had forgotten plenty of things, but it was still far more than enough for elementary school preparation. And since even he understood the importance of exercise, there was no reason to hesitate in agreeing.
Hyein narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering if he was simply too excited to think properly before answering. Yet at the same time, she also felt that if her son truly was a genius, then she needed to help him fully develop that talent.
Soon, she softened her expression and hugged him tightly.
“Work hard.”
“...Okay!”
Unaware of the complicated thoughts running through his parents’ minds, Insu simply smiled brightly in the joy of freedom.
“Nice.”
Noticing that the clock had just passed ten in the morning, Insu muttered quietly to himself. Under normal circumstances, kindergarten classes would only just have started around this time.
An ordinary person might have felt anxious about drifting away from normalcy, but Insu, who already carried the memories of one full lifetime, was different.
Of course, it was true that small deviations could later lead to major disadvantages. But they were not irreversible, and in any case, he had never intended to live an ordinary life this time around.
To do that, I first need this game to succeed.
Motivating himself once more, Insu opened his planning notebook again. Thanks to that, he could stare at the countless unimplemented systems and features without feeling discouraged.
Thinking about ideas in his head and casually jotting them into a notebook was fun and easy. But when it came time to actually implement every detail one by one, a single step suddenly felt like marching a thousand miles.
Well, at least a lot has been implemented now.
At first, he could spend days working without feeling as though any visible progress had been made. But because he rushed to complete noticeable features for the sample build, the number of check marks in his notebook had increased considerably.
Insu resumed coding tirelessly. Unlike at the beginning, coding now felt much more familiar, so he no longer spent endless amounts of time wondering how to implement every little thing. Of course, some features were still difficult, but most followed similar logic patterns, meaning once he finished a few calculations, the rest became closer to repetitive labor.
Ah, right. I need to add comments.
Insu diligently inserted comments into practically every function. It was honestly a tedious task, but in an era where obtaining external code was difficult, reusing his own work later would save enormous amounts of time.
Moreover, he planned to reuse many of these systems later in his MMORPG and future sequels as well.
He also had no intention of remaining a solo developer forever. There was certainly satisfaction in creating a game alone, but for Insu, implementing his ideas quickly mattered far more than personal pride.
And for that, comments were essential.
Besides, when my skills improve later and I reorganize or optimize the code, things’ll be way easier if the comments are clean and systematic... probably?
And so, for several more days, Insu focused solely on coding.
“Insu.”
“Yes?”
Over the past few days, he had still gone outside occasionally for fresh air and errands. Even so, his mother apparently remained worried.
“Mom’s going grocery shopping. Come with me.”
“...Okay.”
At first, Hyein had intentionally gone shopping alone because she did not want to interfere with him. But at some point, she started calling Insu whenever she went out.
Initially, he found it slightly annoying. But at the same time, he appreciated the affection his mother showed him compared to his previous life. And after thinking it over, he decided that if a small amount of time spent outside could reassure his mother while also letting him get some fresh air, then it was not a bad trade at all.
Still kind of annoying, though.
Before shutting down the computer, Insu reflexively pressed the shortcut key to save his code. It was not originally a habit when he first started coding here. In his previous life, his editors all had autosave functions, so he rarely needed to think about it.
But perhaps because this was an older era, the editors here lacked such features. He realized that on the very first day, when he casually wrote a little code while exploring the editor and then opened a different file, only to discover that none of his previous work had been saved.
At the time, it had merely been practice code, so it did not matter much. But later, after serious development began, there was one terrifying moment where he suddenly realized he had spent three full hours working without saving even once, causing cold sweat to pour down his back.
Power outages were far more frequent here than in his previous life, meaning even if he made no mistakes, all his work could still disappear if he were simply unlucky enough.
“Insu?”
“Yes! I’m coming.”
His mother had a large shopping bag slung over her shoulder.
Together, they left the house and started walking toward the market. Insu’s family did not seem poor at all. In fact, they seemed fairly wealthy, yet they owned only a single car.
Then again, even looking around the streets, there simply were not that many cars overall. And it was rare to see women driving at all. It was likely because this was still an era where female drivers were uncommon.
Even though this was not some impossibly distant past, and the scenery itself was not dramatically unfamiliar, moments like this made the difference in time periods feel very real.
There are seriously so many people.
The market was absolutely packed with crowds. Since the internet did not exist, online shopping malls like Coupang obviously did not exist either, and even large supermarkets had yet to become common. Naturally, people had little choice but to come to places like this whenever they needed something.
“Don’t let go of Mom’s hand.”
“Yes.”
The crowd itself did not feel unpleasant. Of course, it was not exactly comfortable either, but the sheer liveliness fascinated him.
After that, Insu diligently followed his mother around. This era truly was far removed from convenience. Not only were cars scarce, but even shopping carts were hard to find. Considering how crowded and uneven the market was, carts would probably have been difficult to use anyway, but having to carry everything by hand felt like culture shock to someone accustomed to supermarkets.
At least his mother had brought a shopping bag. Most people simply carried countless plastic bags dangling from both hands.
“Mom, should I help carry some of it?”
“No, it’s okay. Aigoo, our son is so sweet.”
Honestly, because he had become smaller again, his perspective itself had lowered enough that his mother no longer seemed especially fragile to him. Even so, recalling the mindset from his previous life, he had offered instinctively. His mother merely smiled and patted his head.
Well, asking a five-year-old to carry groceries would probably look like child abuse.
Moreover, with such a crowded market, keeping a proper hold on her child was more important than the weight of the bags anyway.
Unaware of those thoughts running through her mind, Insu simply wandered around the market eating the fish-shaped pastry his mother bought for him.
This is good.
By the twenty-first century he remembered, even bungeoppang had gradually become harder to find, and he had never even seen pulppang before. But after trying it, the moist filling inside tasted surprisingly delicious. It even seemed to have a special fragrance to it. Insu found himself wondering why something this tasty became so difficult to find later on.