The Minister's Award
The goblin-like atmosphere of the computer didn't stem from lies or empty boasts, so even at his young age, it felt remarkably natural. In fact, one could confidently say that no programmer in the world surpassed Yoo Jae-won, not even beyond Korea's borders. It made sense—his programming experience was unmatched. The Apple II, the first modern computer, launched on June 10, 1977, and the IBM PC XT followed on March 8, 1983. Even those who learned programming on these machines, or the engineers who built them, had barely a decade of experience. Yoo Jae-won, however, carried half a century of expertise. He had started tinkering in the 2000s and never set down his keyboard until his death around 2040. And it wasn't mere coding. In his previous life, his first venture had been game development. Like any business, the beginning was humble. A handful of people juggled two or three roles each, burning with passion. Naturally, Yoo Jae-won handled the programming. At first, he focused on low-level programming to push the hardware to its limits for satisfying combat feedback. Later, as hardware grew more capable, he turned to sophisticated AI algorithms that made in-game NPCs move naturally. Eventually, he even attempted to create a universal NPC AI applicable to any game, which led to a major incident. All this historical knowledge rested intact within the vast Memory Palace of his mind, without a single character lost.
Handling BASIC was child's play for Yoo Jae-won.
"Hah, impressive."
The screen contained no graphics, only text. Yet it felt full because moving the cursor with the up and down keys made explanations for each menu scroll into view. Programs of this era typically required pressing Enter for any response, but Yoo Jae-won had focused on cursor movement. The way the cursor shifted up and down, with descriptions appearing smoothly, felt entirely natural. BASIC was a language designed for ease of use. While it struggled to extract 100% of a computer's performance, that limitation didn't apply to Yoo Jae-won. Real-time interactive responses were nothing to him.
"Just show them one by one."
"Understood."
Every menu in the typing practice program functioned flawlessly. From consonant practice to full-sentence drills, following the computer's prompts naturally built mastery of the two-set keyboard layout. After demonstrating each menu, Yoo Jae-won prepared for a full showcase.
"For the demonstration, I'll try the short-sentence practice."
He positioned the cursor on short-sentence practice and pressed Enter. The screen cleared, revealing a new interface. A thick text box appeared at the top center, while a blinking cursor sat above an underline at the bottom. Inside the box was the proverb: "Even a bag of beads must be strung to become treasure."
This was why Yoo Jae-won had pounded the keyboard so diligently. Since it was a typing program, he had to input words, sentences, and passages for users to follow. Time constraints had limited the examples—ten proverbs and three slogans for short practice, and only the national anthem for long passages. Yoo Jae-won typed the sentence in the box with flying fingers.
"What are those two numbers?"
Two previously hidden numbers appeared in the top corner: 524 strokes and 100%.
"The first shows strokes per minute—essentially a speedometer for typing. The second indicates accuracy, showing whether input was error-free."
"So how fast is 524 strokes for Candidate Yoo Jae-won?"
"Around 200 strokes is generally considered fast."
"Is that so? Let me give it a try."
Having just cleared 500 with ease, Department Head Kim Won-jung stepped forward at the mention of 200 being fast. A new proverb already filled the screen: "A single word can repay a thousand nyang debt"—a simple sentence. His fingers clattered at a decent pace, but tension caused several typos. The result: 165 strokes at 85% accuracy.
"Hmm!"
Stung by the modest numbers, he tried again. This time: 203 strokes at 100%. Satisfied, Kim Won-jung nodded to himself. At the same time, he realized how extraordinary this was. The screen was crude, yet every implemented function worked perfectly. It was hard to believe a fifth-grader had created it. Especially the stroke calculation and the accuracy algorithm expressed as a percentage, then applied to an application in BASIC—that went far beyond student level. The final touch came from the alien invasion game. It was a game defending Earth from alien invasion using Korean. The background explanation was just a few simple sentences, and gameplay involved typing words falling from the top of the monitor to eliminate them. Ten hearts representing lives sat at the bottom, with the score displayed in the upper right. Accuracy and stroke count appeared below. The game's difficulty varied greatly depending on the computer. On the school's XT, the falling words moved too slowly. The AT offered better speed. If written in a high-level language like C, it would have run smoothly even on an XT, but BASIC caused the limitation. The eighth seat assigned to Yoo Jae-won featured a high-end AT with turbo, so it ran with satisfying speed.
"Remarkable."
"Yes, truly extraordinary."
After reviewing Yoo Jae-won's typing program, the judges found little interest in the other entries. There was a demo program that drew a detailed Taegeukgi in black and white while playing the national anthem, and a grade-management program that calculated overall scores for each year. Either would have contended for first place the previous year. But nothing surpassed the typing program. And the child who made it was only a fifth-grader. The judges reached an easy consensus on the final rankings for the contest.
"Grand Prize of the 3rd Computer Contest: Yoo Jae-won of Deokjin Elementary School."
At the announcement, Teacher Jeong Hyeon-ung and Yoo Jae-won rose amid applause. A waiting photographer captured the moment as they received the certificate and prize from Department Head Kim Won-jung on stage.
— Congratulations! Deokjin Elementary School's Yoo Jae-won receives the Minister of Communications Award!
"Whoa?"
Walking back to school, Yoo Jae-won stopped short at the massive banner hanging over the school gate, his mouth falling open. He had braced himself somewhat after seeing his family's and relatives' reactions, but the sight of the banner at the entrance made the gap between imagination and reality starkly clear. He wasn't alone on the way to school. Children heading in at the same time whispered loudly upon seeing him. Still, Yoo Jae-won stood there for a moment. The simple words stirred a deep sense of accomplishment. Before his regression, he had never stepped into the spotlight until forced into a fight over his source code. This was the first time he had received such attention at this age. Naturally, his parents caused another uproar. They had already been overjoyed just by his participation in the contest. Now their son returned from the event with both a certificate and a plaque—how could they not? It was as if he had passed the civil service exam as a boy. They even pinched their cheeks to check if it was a dream. Their cheeks hurt, yet they smiled. This wasn't just any award—it was the Minister's Award. The plaque bore the clear name of Communications Minister Oh Myung. It was the first such honor in the Yoo family's history. The achievement was so significant that even his father, Yoo Bong-man, suggested distributing rice cakes. Yoo Jae-won felt embarrassed at the thought of celebrating something so minor with rice cakes, but he didn't object. Bringing joy to his parents could never be enough. Especially when trying to offset his past life's unfilial behavior with present-life devotion—it still fell far short. After gazing at the banner for a while, Yoo Jae-won headed toward his classroom.
— There will be a morning assembly today. All students, please gather on the playground immediately.
He was about to hang his bag on his desk and prepare for self-study when the announcement came.
"Everyone heard the broadcast, right? Let's go."
Class president Ryu Su-gyeong commanded like a general and stood by the classroom door. The children grumbled as they rose and filed out. Their dissatisfaction was understandable—the principal's speeches were unbearably tedious. Morning assemblies were normally held on the first Monday of each month. They had already done October's, so no one was pleased about being called out again. As Yoo Jae-won left the classroom, he felt a prickling on the back of his head. Turning, he saw Ryu Su-gyeong staring intently at him, as if silently asking if this was his doing. In the end, her guess was correct. The principal of Deokjin Elementary School was just as fond of boasting as his mother, Kim Mal-sook. He had been stingy about opening the computer lab, yet now that Yoo Jae-won had won the Minister's Award in a contest hosted by the Ministry of Communications, he was making a grand show of it. The instigator himself, Yoo Jae-won, was summoned to the stage to receive a commendation. The principal seemed so pleased that he didn't stop at a certificate—he awarded a scholarship as well.