Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Why Is the Sky Blue?
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“Oppa, why is the sky blue?”
Seo-eun looked up at the sky from the yard and asked.
“Sunlight is actually all the colors of the rainbow mixed together. But when it passes through the sky, blue scatters the most, so that’s what we see.”
Now six years old, Seo-eun had reached that stage of childhood development where kids bombard you with questions nonstop—the so-called “Why stage.”
Seo-ha never faltered in his answers, no matter how they poured out.
“Then where do the other colors go?”
Seo-eun pressed her index finger to her slightly open lips.
Seo-ha couldn’t help but stroke his little sister’s hair—it was just too adorable.
“Red and yellow go straight through without scattering much, so they reach us directly. That’s why the sun looks red sometimes, right?”
“Ah! Got it!”
Seo-eun clapped in delight and went scampering around the yard.
To Seo-eun, her big brother was the best person in the whole world.
He answered her endless questions—dozens a day—without ever saying “I don’t know.”
The kind, all-knowing oppa.
When he was away from home, she’d sneak into his room to play.
Mi-young knew how sensitive he was about it and warned her daughter, “You can’t go in there until Oppa gets back!” But warnings fell on deaf ears with Seo-eun.
Creeeak.
The door opened slowly. Seo-eun peeked around cautiously, then stuck her little face through the gap.
Mom’s in the vegetable garden.
She tiptoed inside, shutting the door behind her, and plopped down in front of the bookshelf that lined one entire wall.
Looking up made her neck hurt—there were just so many books.
“Animal Encyclopedia... here!”
She dragged over a chair, pulled out the thick volume, and flipped through it.
Sometimes she’d spot notes her brother had scribbled in pencil. She treated finding them like a treasure hunt.
“Yesterday was desert animals, so today... ocean animals... ocean... ocean...”
Her small fingers turned the pages one by one until she found what she wanted.
“Here it is!”
Her brother’s handwriting.
[Penguins actually have knees. They’re just hidden in their feathers.]
[Whales are mammals, so they nurse their young with milk.]
[Octopuses have three hearts.]
“Huh? Three hearts?”
Her butt getting sore from sitting, Seo-eun lay flat on her stomach and kept flipping pages, tracing the notes with her finger.
The math encyclopedia had notes too, but all those numbers and symbols she couldn’t read killed her interest fast.
The next day, she was rolling around on the floor of his room again.
Bored, she tumbled over toward the dresser. Then she remembered him storing something there.
Slide.
Deep inside was a notebook she’d never seen before.
“What’s this?”
Seo-eun tilted her head and pulled it out. The cover was blank.
“Wow!”
She turned the first page, eyes widening in awe.
It was a drawing her brother had made.
A man in a full-page illustration wearing a duck mask. Only his lower face showed, like Batman. It reminded her of a cartoon character she’d seen somewhere.
Pencil sketch in black and white, but the mask was shaded yellow. Mysterious math formulas floated around him.
Intrigued, she examined it closely.
He looked scary... but also familiar. After all, it was a duck mask, just like the ones she and Oppa loved.
I’ll ask Oppa to play mask games when he gets home.
Seo-eun carefully put the notebook back where it belonged, hugged the duck plushie he’d given her, and headed outside.
“Time’s up! Please put down your pencils.”
The proctor’s announcement marked the end of the first day’s grueling 4-hour-30-minute marathon.
Pencils clattered down all over the exam hall.
But no one looked relieved. A heavy, despairing mood hung over the room instead.
Students handed in their answer sheets and stood, faces etched with shock and confusion. Some clutched their heads, unable to rise. Others stared blankly at the ceiling.
“What the hell was that?”
“Totally different from the practice problems!”
“Is this even right? It was way too hard.”
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
“Hah... hah...”
Lui Chen panted heavily.
Running out of time mid-problem was a feeling he hadn’t had in ages.
Problem 1 alone took him two hours.
A wrong initial approach had cost him dearly. A standard number theory problem like that would’ve taken him 30 minutes tops.
But the core wasn’t number theory at all.
Conventional methods failed completely. Factorization, modular arithmetic, Diophantine equations—every tool in his arsenal yielded nothing.
Only when “give up” flickered in his mind did he realize it demanded algebraic number theory.
Too late.
Rushed, he couldn’t even shine on his specialty, geometry.
He barely finished 3 when time was called.
Lui Chen glanced around.
Most hadn’t touched 1 or 2, let alone 3.
Keeping China in check?
Maybe last year’s strong Chinese performance prompted this.
Problems too hard could backfire on discrimination.
Not at this level.
Whatever came, Lui Chen trusted himself to outperform everyone here.
Born with top talent and unmatched effort—that was his edge.
“Lui Chen, how’d it go?”
A teammate asked cautiously.
“...”
He stayed silent.
“I barely scraped 1. Not even sure.”
“Couldn’t even look at 3.”
Teammates gathered, sharing woes.
Worse than expected.
So China containment succeeds?
These were China’s elite, but rote education had limits.
Every country faced it.
He’d just claim top score.
“Why are they smiling?”
A teammate pointed to the Korean side.
“Insanely tough.”
“But that principle Seo-ha mentioned showed up. Think I got it.”
“Study group was a lifesaver, huh?”
“Difficulty-wise, I did pretty okay, I think.”
Incomprehensible chatter, but their upbeat tones unsettled Lui Chen.
Do-kyung hugged Seo-ha and patted his back.
At their level? Top scores unlikely. But they hadn’t bombed.
“Let’s go.”
Conditions equal for all.
Misread trends today, botched time management. One more day left.
“Seo-ha!”
Im Soo-jung called out to Seo-ha walking ahead.
He slowed naturally to match her stride.
Her face glowed.
“You did well, right?”
She almost asked “How’d you do?” but stopped. He was on another level.
“Thanks to you. Old me would’ve cracked on 1. Remember when we first met?”
“Oh! That time?”
Something amused him; he chuckled at her face.
An embarrassing memory—her cheeks flushed.
“N-not that! After the exam, I asked about the proof.”
“Of course I remember.”
“I’ve improved since. Now I try viewing problems from new angles, no matter what.”
“I love that about you, noona.”
“Wh-what?”
She startled.
“You remind me of the old mathematicians.
You wrestle alone to the end, never quit at dead ends. That focus on one unsolved problem till time ran out—that’s how you looked to me.”
Flustered by the praise, she changed tack.
“Ah, you really admire those old mathematicians.”
His face turned serious—favorite topic.
“They inspire me. Never give up.”
Joseph Fourier devoted his life to the heat equation proof, known as Fourier analysis. Completed posthumously by Dirichlet, Riemann, and others. Insane persistence.
“Ever want to quit a problem?”
To her, he grasped every theory, solved every puzzle. What could stump him?
“Sure. But I won’t.”
His demeanor said he wouldn’t share details.
When did he grow up so much?
Up close, their heights matched now.
Last year’s first meeting: just a kid.
Old Soo-jung let no one surpass her.
Now, chasing him left no room for else.
Soon he’ll be out of sight.
Maybe he already was, far ahead.
Sudden anxiety tightened her chest.
“Noona, you okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
Maybe she’d underestimated it.
Keeping up with Seo-ha might be monumental, she thought.
Footsteps echoed in the dorm halls before dawn.
Students up early (or sleepless) moved quietly.
Day 2 after yesterday’s shock—tension thick.
Seo-ha spotted some puffy-eyed from crying all night. He wasn’t the only one staking everything here.
Same seats, same desks, but atmosphere electric with nerves.
The proctor finally arrived with the papers.
The final exam began.
Flip.
Seo-ha opened his booklet.
Hm?
Last problem stood out—weird.
No instant answer.
Oh ho!
Finally, a worthy challenge.
He felt Ducky squirming to tackle it.
No.
Seo-ha lightly suppressed him and dove into 6 first, curiosity piqued.
Unfamiliar type, but déjà vu—like he’d seen it before.
Ah! 1988 problem 6!
Exact same vibe from back then.
A smile spread across his face.
And he sank into his own world.