Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: A Prodigy's Paper
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"It's been fifteen years..."
Edward Han sat in the judges' seat, pondering why he had shown up here today.
It wasn't academic curiosity. It was an old colleague's request—and probably a touch of guilt.
But deep down, he had reached his conclusion long ago.
Korean mathematics is finished. At least within this country.
He had thought the same five years ago, ten years ago, and every time he heard the latest rumors from the American academic world. Korea ranked high in International Olympiad medals, but the mathematical achievements from those talents could be counted on one hand. And even those were thanks to black-haired foreigners who had settled abroad. He included himself in that group, of course.
Screeech—
The door opened, and the judges filed into the review room one by one.
"Oh! Professor Han, you've come too. Good to see you. I read your latest paper. Quite impressive..."
This guy's still active? After decades of lecturing on the same old stuff—did he really read my paper? He'd have been fired from a U.S. university ages ago...
His body reacted before his thoughts could. He bowed politely.
"It's been a while, Professor Jung."
The people who entered after him were much the same.
Tenured professors who wouldn't lose their positions even without research output. They must have had their shining moments once.
Is it all about the money...?
In fields like mathematics and humanities, where research funding was scarce, they clung to their positions through old reputations and connections.
With minimal funding came minimal pressure for results. They had no interest in cutting-edge research—just textbook sales and networking.
"Alright! Let's pick some promising buds. I hope plenty of good talent comes to our school this year too."
"Hahaha! K University swept up all the competition winners last time. We need to eat too, you know."
They sweet-talked brilliant prospects into joining. It was crucial for solidifying their cartel. That was probably why professors bothered showing up at these events.
Scholars? More like network administrators.
They leveraged connections and influence at universities to recruit students, ensuring they were treated as essential talent without doing real research.
Damn this country. Professors producing actual results wouldn't have time for this crap.
"We've brought the answer sheets!"
The teaching assistants unsealed the packets one by one, placing the neatly numbered sheets on the table before the judges.
This wasn't just grading.
While correctness mattered, they evaluated the logic of the solutions, originality in approaches, and time management.
"This one's average."
"The quality seems to be dropping every year."
"All the good ones go to med school anyway..."
Edward Han smirked at the professors' complaints.
You lot helped make it this way.
"Oho! This kid's something else."
The atmosphere shifted slightly as one judge unfolded an answer sheet.
Examinee #17. Personal info was masked for fairness.
"Already using Cauchy-Schwarz? And fully understands it."
"Linear algebra's essential for Olympiads these days."
"Ah! Is this that kid? I heard he's young..."
"Hey! You know it's blind grading!"
Not bad at all.
Edward Han stroked his chin.
The kid had flair.
The ability to strip away unnecessary calculations and grasp the core structure was exceptional.
He nodded.
Worth nurturing. Though talent like this won't stick around in this country for long.
A few other solid examinees stood out.
Good students who faithfully followed the problem's intended path...
A wry smile crossed his lips. They'd probably solved countless problems like this, memorizing every variation.
After hours poring over sheets, his eyes burned. The professors stretched and removed their glasses one by one.
"Let's eat and continue!"
The assistants brought in lunch boxes as if on cue.
High-end ones with thick, glossy eel.
They could use that budget on the assistants instead.
The TAs huddled at a corner desk.
Piles of papers blocked the sunlight, like a dim prison corner. One yawned while sharpening a pencil, another sighed over coffee from a paper cup.
Their hollow eyes and sallow faces showed no youthful vigor.
It reminded him of his own younger days. The fancy lunch went down poorly as the professors bantered, ignoring the TAs like ghosts.
"Grading's a stamina test, right? Gotta eat to keep going. Hey! Kim! Got any extra lunch boxes? Bring some over."
"Yes, Professor."
"Lately, I lack the energy even for classes."
"Sheesh! The world's gone mad—ignoring natural sciences and pushing only engineering."
Chomp chomp.
"It's not new; get used to it. At least they haven't cut the budget further."
His throat felt raw.
He glanced at the assistants again. He could almost read their thoughts.
Just a bit longer, and things will get better.
But they wouldn't. Politics and connections overshadowed scholarship; merit went unrewarded. Eventually, they'd seek other paths or leave the country.
He felt nauseous.
Yet even here, he could do nothing for them.
Just... sorry.
Clap clap.
"All done eating? Let's get back to it!"
The professors shuffled back after someone clapped. While post-lunch drowsiness softened them, Edward flipped through the final sheets.
"Hm?"
His pupils dilated at one he opened casually.
The first problem was unconventional. An inequality proof, solved via a wildly different approach from the model answer.
Extending Jensen's inequality like this?
Definitely more concise and intuitive.
Ignoring the immense thought required to reach it.
But the real shock came next.
[Problem 4: Prove that the sum of the distances from any point inside an equilateral triangle to its three sides equals the triangle's height.]
-This is a special case of Viviani's Theorem.
However, it assumes Euclidean geometry. In curved spaces like spherical or hyperbolic geometry, a correction term is needed.
h₁ + h₂ + h₃ = h - (Area × |K|)/(2π) Modifying the formula like this...
Asked to solve a problem, and they wrote a paper.
A researcher's perspective, not a student's. It evoked the thrill of debating Stanford's geniuses.
Edward took a deep breath.
"Professors, take a look at this."
"Huh? What's that? Why's the answer so long?"
Professor Jung, first to approach, hardened as he scanned it.
"This student's spouting nonsense on #4... Viviani's Theorem doesn't hold in spherical geometry?"
"What're you talking about?"
The problem setter, a middle-aged professor, approached irritably.
"Does a high school problem really need that complication? If not specified, it's obviously planar."
Pathetic.
Nothing more dangerous in math than "obviously."
Until the 19th century, geometers "obviously" assumed the parallel postulate. Its fall birthed modern mathematics.
"These so-called prodigies are all the same. Pick up fancy terms online and play professor."
Professor Jung waved dismissively in exasperation.
Scratch scratch.
Edward verified the correction formula.
If true, Viviani's Theorem would be updated today. Common in math.
This student was likely wrong, but it might spark research—good for the field.
He continued.
Seemed derived from Gauss-Bonnet. In curved spaces, triangle angle sum...
Wait.
His hand froze. He grabbed fresh paper and calculated furiously.
Spherical excess, hyperbolic defect.
Approaching Viviani's via integral geometry: distances from point P along geodesics vary with curvature...
"H-How..."
He muttered unconsciously.
"What is it, Professor Han?"
The formula fit perfectly. On spheres, sum exceeds height; on hyperbolics, falls short. The difference proportional to curvature and area.
"Professor, is something wrong?"
A young TA noticed his change and asked cautiously.
"This formula is correct."
"Pardon?"
"One hundred percent. I just verified it. It holds in spherical and hyperbolic geometries."
The professors' faces stiffened.
"So how do we handle the answer?"
"Just mark it fully correct? Multiple solutions mean no objections."
"But if this generalization is real..."
"Paper material."
G greed flickered on the old professors' faces.
"Curvature Correction to Viviani's Theorem. Catchy title. Big impact."
"Yeah. First generalization in 360 years."
Their gazes shifted subtly. Eyes darted in the silence.
"Uh, Professor Han. Could you explain the formula in detail?"
"Proof's omitted; derivation needs polishing."
"Call the student for joint research. Helps us both. First authorship aids admissions."
Stolen paper.
It happened in grad school.
Lightning-flash memories surged in Edward Han's mind.
"Your idea's brilliant. Let's develop it into a paper?"
His advisor, Professor Kim Jung-sik, had suggested.
He'd been thrilled, naive.
"Professor, really?"
"Of course. But you'll need help. I'll assist; you as first author."
Thus began the collaboration.
Six months later, the published paper listed him second. Kim Jung-sik sole first author. Core ideas twisted as the professor's own.
"Professor, what is this?"
"Be honest. Did you earn first authorship? Just the initial idea; I did the proofs."
That night,
Edward—no, Han Jae-hong—stared at the dark Han River waters from a bridge, vowing never again.
Now history repeated.
"Fuck. That's why I didn't want to come."
Loud enough for all.
"Wh-what?"
The profanity startled the professors.
Thud.
Edward slammed up, bellowing at them.
"Hey, you fucking bastards! No conscience as scholars? Steal this, and I'll bury you myself—as a Stanford professor!"
Clack—clatter.
A TA's ballpoint hit the floor loudly.
All gaped at him, stunned.
"Jackpot."
Someone whispered.