Secrets Among the Aces
In the rehearsal matches pitting the aces of each grade against one another, the elementary division managed a dismal 2 wins, 3 losses, the middle school 0 wins, 3 losses, and the high school 1 win, 1 loss. Surprisingly, the elementary kids had put up a strong showing, which was at least some consolation for Seferon Academy.
Meanwhile, Yoon Si-hu had skyrocketed to stardom overnight, his name bouncing up and down internet articles left and right.
“Seferon Conquered by the Prince of the Winds—even the Eagle's Wingbeats Were Powerless Against the Typhoon. Haha, Si-hu, people are calling you the Prince of the Winds.”
How do journalists churn out titles that are so cringeworthy yet so perfectly punchy? The vibe of this era's sensibilities was beyond me.
I rolled around on the wide hotel bed, scrolling through the news articles one by one.
“Ugh, quit teasing me...!”
“Huh? Prince sounds like a compliment, doesn't it? I wish people would call me princess someday.”
Seo Yu-na, bouncing right next to me, laid out her unfiltered thoughts. To someone in the terminal stages of princess syndrome like her, it probably just looked like a cool nickname. With Yuna taking that stance, Si-hu couldn't even open his mouth.
“Any more fun news?”
At her question, I scrolled down to check the other articles.
“The middle school senior who got carted off wasn't from food poisoning.”
A couple days ago, when one student complained of stomach pain and got loaded into an ambulance, articles slamming Alteer Academy's cafeteria service had come flooding out.
“Then what?”
“He ate 30 vending machine ice creams in a single day and got a tummy ache.”
“Eek! Thirty?!”
“So no ice cream or anything like that before the tournament, got it?”
“We didn't have any. You always go down to the basement and snag them yourself.”
“...Anyway! Just be careful.”
“Yeah, I will.”
I chucked the phone aside haphazardly and stretched out my limbs, savoring the cool touch of the bedsheets against my whole body.
“Huh? Gap spotted—NoName, take this!”
Suddenly, Seo Yu-na dove onto me from above. She'd gotten hooked on wrestling techniques lately and kept trying to grapple me at random moments, but aside from that, our daily life was mostly peaceful.
“Ack! Sorry! I surrender! Surrender! Won't fight back, guaaah!”
This level of assassination attempt ranked pretty cute. Midway through paying her back with a guillotine choke, Si-hu sidled up beside us and asked,
“NoName. Didn't you say you only had one dad?”
“Sudden low blow? You wanna join him in the grave?”
Had this kid lost all sense after winning one rehearsal round?
“No, not like that...! The title here says it.”
“What? Lemme see.”
Si-hu held out his phone politely with both hands. I snatched it quick and checked the article.
People get a rush of catharsis from stories of folks overcoming tragic backstories. The beggar wandering New York streets who hits it big on a talent show. The boy from a rundown village in Africa who becomes an Olympian. They eat that stuff up.
But once it crosses a certain threshold, folks start side-eyeing it. Easy to say: 'I didn't want you this happy.'
NoName getting all the love at Korea University, raking in millions a day just by streaming? Tolerable. Even her becoming the top shareholder in some no-name startup? Kinda admirable, even.
But the moment word got out that the startup—BioAkashic—had landed sponsorship from the Katsuhata Financial Group and was gearing up for unprecedented investment scale, it pinged every economic expert's radar. That was the turning point.
"BioAkashic—the company buzzing because of its young majority shareholder, right? It's a biotech venture developing breakthrough drugs for intractable diseases. Their lead treatment just hit the final stages of Phase 1 trials. Too early to call it, sure, but given the investment scale... makes you wonder if even they are dead certain of success internally."
● "Unprecedented investment scale."
"Think about the stagnant Series A market lately—totally anomalous. Crunch the numbers, and investors are valuing it at at least 500 billion won minimum."
Cut the expert's qualifiers, spread a rumor online that "company valued at 500 billion," and suddenly the jealous hordes started forming.
Once the rumor spread about some suit-wearing guy maybe being NoName's bio dad, gold-diggers started swarming the Alteer Academy board building.
“I'm NoName's father, husband of No Seola! My wife's birthday is February 21, 2022! Back in the day, we dug potatoes together in a Gangwon mountain valley—”
“One moment, please.”
The guy, who'd clearly done his homework even on birthdays, pounded his chest and yelled. Jacqueline Carol, utterly fed up with the tired script, squinted and said,
“Excuse me, but how old are you, sir?”
“Lemme see... turning forty-five this year...”
“So a sixteen-year age gap?”
“Too much? Thirty-five...?”
“Could you please leave? We'll call the police if you keep causing a scene.”
Jacqueline Carol was handing out visitor badges to parents eager to watch the academy tournament. She'd never dreamed she'd deal with these types, and let out a deep sigh.
“Sixth one today. Hang in there, homeroom teacher.”
A childish voice piped up from under the desk. NoName was meticulously rounding the corners of badges with tiny scissors perfectly sized for her hands—insurance against accidental pricks.
“Doesn't it get uncomfortable crouching there?”
“Nah. It's cozy and dim. Plus, the kids bug me nonstop if I'm in the room.”
“Haha, yeah?”
If NoName had mentioned bullying at the start of term, Jacqueline would've called an anti-bullying committee without hesitation. A transfer kid even smaller than the first-graders? Prime target.
But once she learned NoName had physically dominated the class, she realized it was needless worry.
“NoName.”
“Yes?”
“Promise your teacher one thing?”
“What kind?”
NoName paused her snipping and looked up at Jacqueline Carol. Paper crafts suited her age better than fisticuffs—for now.
“You're only in the middle school matches for experience, not to win. So if it gets to your turn, no overdoing it. You get what I mean, right?”
Jacqueline had long known NoName's competitive streak ran deep. Seven years younger opponents, charging without regard—worried she'd get hurt.
“Even so, holding back is way harder than going all out...”
“NoName!”
“Fine, if you insist... I'll fight carefully, no injuries.”
“Good. I trust you, NoName. The class will cheer hard.”
“Ack, someone's coming. Hiding out.”
NoName ducked her head under the desk. While Jacqueline guided the visitors, NoName quietly kept clipping.
She didn't show it, but Jacqueline could guess why NoName was here. The eternal homework for adopted kids who never knew their parents' faces.
“Um... NoName, are you curious about your bio dad?”
NoName didn't answer right away. So Jacqueline added,
“'Cause I was, a bit.”
“...?”
NoName turned. Their gazes held complex emotions.
“I was adopted as a newborn by my current American parents.”
“News to me.”
“Korea hit economic crisis in the '20s, got tough. Probably why they left me at the orphanage. But a few years back, visiting Korea, we met.”
“You met?”
“Yeah. Cafe, tea, no numbers exchanged, done. Anticlimax, huh?”
“Totally.”
“The 'bio parents' label packs a punch, but time together matters more. We were just chance passersby—nothing more, nothing less.”
“Strangers, basically.”
“Exactly. So be good to your dad. He worries about you a ton.”
“Professor Cheon is just naturally affectionate...”
“Nah. Special for you. Think about it.”
Watching NoName furrow her brow in thought, Jacqueline couldn't help a soft chuckle at how cute it was.
“Honestly, I'm not curious about my dad anymore. What am I, a kid?”
“Haha! Right, you're eight—basically grown!”
“You shared a secret, so here's one in return.”
NoName handed over the perfectly trimmed badges. Jacqueline ruffled her hair in praise.
“That wasn't much of a secret. But now I'm curious—what's yours?”
“Nothing huge I need to hide. Actually, on second thought, not even my secret. Correction.”
NoName started crawling out. Jacqueline pulled back her chair to help her up. NoName dusted her skirt and whispered in her ear,
“Our house cat weighs over 50kg.”