Chapter 31
Chapter 31
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Homecoming Glory
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Thank you."
Yoo Seo-ha bowed his head politely to Professor Park, who had given him a ride all the way to Okcheon.
There had been a minor incident at the airport, but the team had safely wrapped up their disbanding ceremony and headed home.
"You did great. Congrats again on first place. You know you don't need to worry about the noise from the Chinese side, right?"
He had looked into it, and it turned out to be nothing official—just personal interviews from the Chinese coaching staff.
-No matter how you look at it, the grading on Yoo Seo-ha's problems 4 and 5 was way too generous. We just can't understand giving 6 points for answers like that.
-Based on precedents, answers like that usually get 3 points. That might've changed the winner. Of course, it would've been one of ours from China.
Even the problem setters had needed considerable time to grasp Seo-ha's logic. It wasn't surprising that these people, who hadn't delved deeply into the answers, were upset.
"Yeah, I don't care."
Seo-ha shook his head as if it meant nothing to him. Professor Park found the boy's attitude admirable yet strangely mature. Unlike most kids his age, Seo-ha didn't crave validation from adults.
"Alright, head on inside."
Vroom—.
Professor Park's sedan pulled away.
"Ah! There's no place like home."
Seo-ha took a deep breath.
The scent of ripening rice, the earthy aroma wafting from afar. It was the familiar air of Okcheon.
Rattle.
Pulling his bag, Seo-ha quickened his steps toward the house. He paused in front of the home where he'd lived his whole life, catching his breath. It had only been a few days, but it felt like ages had passed.
Seo-ha pulled the gold medal case from his bag, checked its contents once more, and opened the gate.
"Mom, Dad! I'm home."
Seo-eun, who had been playing in the flower bed, jumped up at the sight of her brother.
"Oppa!"
Seo-eun came running across the yard. She seemed a bit taller after just a few days, sprinting full speed toward Seo-ha.
Seo-ha set down his bag and crouched to scoop her up.
The familiar warmth and scent.
Now it finally felt real—he was home.
"Were you good?"
Seo-eun nodded vigorously.
"Yeah! I listened to Mom, and I didn't fight with the kids at kindergarten—I got along with everyone!"
Seo-eun's eyes sparkled as she looked up at him expectantly.
"Here's Seo-eun's gold medal."
Seo-ha opened the case and showed her the medal. Her face bloomed like a flower. When he hung it around her neck, she ran around the yard in pure delight, then spotted a mirror and struck various poses, grinning ear to ear.
"I don't know if she even gets what it is, but she's loving it."
Mi-young laughed as she came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She must have been cooking to celebrate her son's return.
"Mom!"
"My boy, you worked so hard. Was it tough?"
Mi-young pulled Seo-ha into a hug and patted his back.
The news of his first-place win had spread like wildfire through the village. For the past two days, everyone Mi-young met had envied her for raising such a talented son.
Seo-eun spun in circles in front of the family, gold medal dangling from her neck.
"Oppa! You tried so hard for me and got first place, right?"
Seo-ha thought for a moment before answering.
"Yeah, I think that's exactly what happened."
Seo-eun beamed with a huge smile.
"What a joke... She actually believes you. I'll have food ready soon. I made kimchi jjigae."
That was the best news of all.
"Next up: Our national team placed second overall at the International Mathematical Olympiad. Making waves is sixth-grader Yoo Seo-ha, who took individual gold as the youngest ever at age 12."
The screen showed footage from the IMO awards ceremony—Yoo Seo-ha ascending the stage to receive his medal.
"This Olympiad is being called one of the toughest ever, rivaling 1988. We've got an expert in studio: Professor Nam Tae-jin. Have you reviewed the problems?"
The feed switched.
A middle-aged math professor wearing glasses sat with documents in hand.
"Yes, I have. Honestly, it was shocking. Problem 6, in particular, is graduate-level PhD material. It's not about needing vast knowledge—it's the incredibly complex thought process to reach the conclusion."
"That tough?"
"Yoo Seo-ha was the only one worldwide to solve it. Over 600 top students from around the globe competed."
"So how would you rate Yoo Seo-ha's talent?"
"Haha! Viewers want a simple answer, but math isn't a game with ranks. Still, I can say he's exceptionally gifted. No one this young has achieved something like this since Eliya Kronen."
As the news ended, the internet exploded.
At the far end of the 13th floor of Princeton's research building, Eliya Kronen's office was a breeding ground for all sorts of ghost stories.
Undergrads called it "The Curse of the 13th Floor."
In the past decade, more than half the grad students under Kronen had dropped out, some even requiring psychiatric care for severe depression.
Every year at freshman orientation, seniors would gather the newbies and whisper warnings about Professor Kronen.
"If Eliya Kronen shows interest in you, run. Don't look back."
Yet public opinion of the professor himself was the polar opposite.
In the world of mathematics, the name Eliya Kronen evoked awe and admiration.
He had single-handedly cracked a combinatorial puzzle unsolved for 50 years, reshaping the field. His novel methodology revolutionized graph theory and probabilistic combinatorics, now essential across mathematics.
That's why countless grad students knocked on his door despite the rumors.
Half washed out without degrees, but the other half became tenured professors at top universities or winners of the Fields Medal, Gödel Prize, Abel Prize—math's highest honors.
The cutting edge of modern math. The 13th floor was a symbol of terror, yet a holy site every mathematician yearned to visit.
Tap tap.
"Hm?"
Kronen, about to check his email, narrowed his eyes.
"Professor, have you seen Twitter?"
A flustered TA rushed in with a laptop.
"What's all this?"
His account, usually ignored except by fellow mathematicians, now had thousands of mentions.
"Probably the Chinese. There's a Korean kid who took first at IMO, and they're claiming his score's fishy."
The TA awkwardly showed him the screen. Kronen's feed overflowed with furious Chinese comments.
"Why dump this on me? Do they think I'm an IMO grader?"
"Everyone's getting hit, but you're the most famous..."
Kronen's mouth twitched.
"Fine. Math problem, huh? Then I'll sort it out. Get me the problem and answer sheet."
"Yes, sir!"
As the TA left, Kronen glanced around and logged into his homepage.
His blog rarely topped 1,000 views, and those were all insiders. Fame in math doesn't draw crowds.
[Today's visitors: 15,244]
It had blown up.
The TA returned with printed problem and answer sheets. Kronen accepted them sternly and began reading.
His eyes lit up as he scanned the problem. He checked the setter.
"Ah! That old codger."
Now it made sense. That geezer would set a beast like this.
Problem 6 wove number theory and algebra in a way eerily similar to Kronen's own master's research.
"A 12-year-old solved this?"
Kronen read Seo-ha's solution.
"Oh ho..."
His expression turned serious from page one.
Prime number theory, harmonic series, quadratic residues—linked without a single leap.
"Hm?"
On page two, his eyes widened.
"Straight to it?"
Seo-ha zeroed in on the core like he knew the answer beforehand. While others drowned in calculations, this kid pierced the essence and raced to the solution via the clearest path.
"It's like..."
Me.
Kronen felt an odd kinship with the boy.
Uncovering hidden threads among seemingly unrelated conditions, then proving it beautifully.
Eliya Kronen at 13, conquering IMO.
The master who'd devoted over 30 years to math saw through the boy's potent intuition.
Born for it.
Some say mathematicians are made, not born—but that's nonsense from outsiders.
Every mathematician hits walls. Talent breaks them.
Kronen had no patience for the untalented.
The 13th-floor horror stories stemmed from that.
He read problems 4 and 5, the "controversial" ones.
Then burst out laughing.
"Hahaha!"
This cheeky kid ignored standard curricula, writing in the compressed shorthand only mathematicians grasp.
Like a master architect laying bare framework without finishes.
Tap tap.
Kronen blogged.
Math communities detonated at the giant's bold words.