Chapter 21
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Sports Festival (3)
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As if carrying over the scorching heat from the morning, the sports field began to heat up again the moment lunchtime ended.
Major events like basketball, dodgeball, and tug-of-war followed one after another without respite.
And in one noisy corner of the field, under Class 1's tent, Siwoo sat in a chair, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants as he anxiously awaited his turn.
"Whoa... what the hell is that?"
"Class 2's class tees are next level. Aren't those expensive?"
The boys' eyes all locked onto one spot as murmurs rippled through the crowd.
At the center of those gazes, the Class 2 kids emerged ahead of tug-of-war, dressed in black modified hanboks customized as their class shirts.
While they could glimpse the others inside the tent, the boys' sticky stares naturally fixated openly on Iseol and Jiyoon under the sunlight.
A pitch-black jacket contrasted sharply with vivid red ties.
Even the black hanbok pants, tightly bound at the ankles for ease of movement.
Her short bob swaying in the sunlight, neatly tucked behind her ear, she strolled out casually with her hands shoved in her pockets, drawing awed whispers from the Class 2 onlookers.
Jiyoon, walking beside her with a languid expression, suited the outfit perfectly too, but Siwoo's gaze was fixed solely on one person.
"Hey, you're drooling."
Juwon chuckled and slapped Siwoo's rigid shoulder.
But none of Juwon's teasing jokes reached Siwoo's ears.
Iseol's hair fluttering in the breeze, the jacket patterns sparkling in the sunlight.
And even amid all those stares, the effortless poise shining through her indifferent expression.
His heart began thumping loudly in his ears once more.
True to their relaxed vibe, Class 2 easily clinched victory in the women's tug-of-war.
As the matches wrapped up and Iseol headed back to their tent, Siwoo dazedly followed her retreating figure with his eyes, his legs trembling from tension.
He hadn't shaken like this when she'd cheered from the bench, but now that she was right in front of him, his whole body froze.
Bzzzzt—
The mic howled, followed by a booming announcement echoing across the field.
"Ahem. Mission relay participants, please gather at the main stage."
Finally, they were calling him.
"Everyone got the course and rules? Starts in ten minutes, so head to the starting line and wait."
The coach's dry voice circled Siwoo's ear and faded away.
The other classes' runners gathered at the start looked carefree, faces bright without a hint of nerves.
Mission relay wasn't the highlight of the sports festival—it was more like the comic relief corner meant to crack everyone up.
The guys next to him were already goofing around and laughing.
Amid the chaos, only Siwoo stood there with pursed lips, rigid as a board.
The rules the coach had explained were straightforward.
Vault over the horse, crawl under the net on the ground, grab a mission slip from the tub at the turnaround point, fulfill it, and race back.
It could be anything—dance on the spot or drag back someone matching the condition.
'I can do this... I can do this...'
Siwoo wiped his sweaty palms on his gym pants and took deep breaths.
Stepping up to the line, he felt the stares from the tents ringing the track and the crowds inside piercing him.
It was an overwhelming attention he'd never experienced in his life.
'No one's watching me. Just relax...'
But his desperate self-pep talk fell flat as a booming voice shattered the air from one side of the field.
"Hey!! Nam Jjin!! Take first no matter what!! Fighting!!"
Startled, he whipped around to see Park Geon, with all his friends except Iseol and Jiyoon, cheering him on together.
"Who's Nam Jjin?"
"Dunno. One of the runners, I guess?"
Whispers from the nearest tent made his face flush tomato-red in an instant.
Siwoo ducked his head in embarrassment, but start time loomed, and his eyes naturally drifted to the turnaround point.
Class 2's tent sat just beyond it.
And right up front stood Iseol and Jiyoon.
Iseol had her arms crossed, chatting with Jiyoon, but her gaze was locked straight on Siwoo.
Seeing her face calmed his heart, slowly building his confidence.
'First place... yeah, just focus on first...'
"Alright, everyone ready? Here we go."
The coach suddenly raised the starter pistol high.
As he did, the murmurs hushed over the field.
'Focus. Focus...'
The runners crouched into position, and the trigger pulled.
Bang—!
The gunshot unleashed the runners, kicking up dust as they sprang forward like coils.
"Wooooah!!"
The massive roar erupted with the start, and Siwoo gritted his teeth, pushing off the ground.
But even a fun event had its harsh realities.
Each class had sent their confident guys, and three were ahead of him.
'They're fast...!'
But he didn't panic.
He would've been gasping already before, but not now.
'My body's light!'
All those sweat-drenched trainings dragged along by Juwon and Geon, the daily protein shakes he'd forced down.
The results were showing.
First obstacle: the vaulting horse.
The leader tripped in nerves, tumbling over it and stalling briefly. Siwoo vaulted without slowing.
Thud—!
A clean leap and stable landing with a crisp sound.
After the horse came the net crawl.
As Siwoo, already tiring, scrambled through on the dirt, a familiar voice rang out somewhere.
"Nam Siwoo!! Form's insane!!"
Geon's cheer, but Siwoo's mind was laser-focused on the mission tub ahead.
Emerging from the net, only one runner remained beside him.
The guy ahead by a hair reached the tub first, unfolded his slip, and scanned desperately around.
"Shit! How am I supposed to find someone who ate Shin Ramyun yesterday?!"
Chance.
Siwoo plunged his hand into the tub, snatching the first crumpled slip his fingers touched.
'Please, something easy. Anyone I can grab real quick!'
He unfolded the trembling slip.
"......"
His heartbeat, the crowd's roar—all faded into the distance in that instant.
Reading the short words on the slip, Siwoo's feet halted dead center on the track.
But hesitation lasted a split second.
He snapped his head up, gaze locking onto one spot.
Beyond the turnaround, front row of Class 2's tent.
Her in the sleek black modified hanbok, looking at him curiously as he stood frozen.
Their eyes met, and Siwoo stuffed the slip in his pocket, bolting toward her.
As he charged Class 2's tent, a flicker of surprise crossed even Iseol's ever-calm eyes.
Skidding right up to her, Siwoo gasped for air and thrust out his hand.
"Wha—"
"Iseol, let's go!"
Without waiting, he grabbed her wrist—no, her slender white hand—gripping it tight.
A cool, soft sensation traveled through his palm.
Iseol flinched and stiffened, but Siwoo clutched that small hand and spun back toward the track, sprinting full tilt.
"H-Hey?!"
Her black bob whipped wildly in the spring breeze as she was yanked along.
"Wooooah!!"
The crowd exploded at the sight of them hand-in-hand, cheers threatening to shake the field.
Geon and Juwon especially hollered from Class 1's tent.
But hundreds of cheers, the whipping wind—none registered for Siwoo.
Only the warmth of her hand in his.
Hands intertwined firmly, they kicked up sand, racing to the finish.
Thud—!
Finally, their feet crossed the line.
Regrettably, one runner had edged them out with overwhelming speed.
Second place.
But no regret over missing first lingered in Siwoo's mind.
"Haa... haa..."
"Hey, you... haa... seriously..."
Iseol, breathless from the sudden dash, brushed back her tousled bob and glared fiercely at Siwoo.
Her usual impassive face bore a pretty flush from the run.
She yanked her hand free and demanded incredulously,
"What mission was it that you just drag someone off like that?"
That was when the emcee bounded over, mic in hand, eyes sparkling.
"Alright, alright! Second-place runner! You boldly dragged in a stunning girl!"
Whistles and cheers erupted across the field at the emcee's line.
Iseol, clearly annoyed by the ruckus, furrowed her brow slightly but stared at Siwoo, curious about his mission.
"Runner! What mission made you bring her? Shout it into the mic!"
The emcee shoved the mic toward Siwoo's mouth.
"Uh... w-well..."
Siwoo's face burned redder than during the race.
His lips moved, but courage failed him to declare it before the crowd—with Iseol herself staring right there.
"Huh? Cat got your tongue? You didn't pick someone who didn't match and just wanted to hold hands, right?"
Teased by the emcee, Siwoo squeezed his eyes shut, fished out the crumpled slip, and handed it over silently.
"Aha, too shy to say it? Fine, I'll check myself~"
The emcee lowered the mic and unfolded the slip.
He paused, then glanced between Siwoo and Iseol with a pleased smile.
"Yep. Confirmed."
Grabbing the mic again, he bellowed,
"The runner's too embarrassed to reveal it, so we'll keep the exact wording secret! But staking my name on it, it's a 100% perfect match! Mission accomplished flawlessly!"
The watching students murmured in confusion, but it didn't last.
"Wooooah!! Nam Siwoo, nice!!!"
Juwon, front and center from Class 1, unleashed a field-shaking cheer.
The mood shifted, burying the puzzled reactions.
Only Iseol, clueless, pressed Siwoo with a baffled look.
"What was it? Tell me the mission. Don't I deserve to know?"
"Uh? I-it's... really nothing...!"
Siwoo covered his exploding face with both hands, desperately averting his eyes.
Despite her prodding, he couldn't reclaim the slip from the emcee and just stammered.
It was too embarrassing to voice aloud, yet the mission he'd confidently grabbed her for without hesitation.
[Mission: Bring the prettiest person in our school]
Siwoo never gave her that answer, no matter how persistently she asked, even until the sports festival ended.