The Genius Who Found a Greater Genius

An hour at a time, I watched the boy named Satoshi Nakamoto stare at the screen from a dark room that never once saw the sun.

The only light in that place came from the computer monitor.

He was a gaunt man in glasses, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he meant to pierce it through.

...I can feel a wall.

Snap.

He bit at his thumbnail. It was his habit, whenever he sat down, to draw his right knee up against his chest, but now he locked his arms tight and squeezed his leg even harder.

I didn’t think there’d be anyone smarter than me...

What he was reading was a supplementary paper to the concept he had recently named Bitcoin.

A supplementary paper to the work he had poured his life into, one he had submitted to the cryptography mailing list about three weeks earlier.

There isn’t a single flaw I can find.

Until he had posted his paper to the cryptography mailing list, he had believed his concept was perfect.

And he had thought he would believe that until the day he died.

But now—

Three weeks... It only took three weeks. A paper explaining what was wrong with my Bitcoin, and how to fix it perfectly...

That didn’t mean he thought himself stupid.

Even the so-called geniuses the world recognized as brilliant were only a little clever in his eyes, and his own paper had already been acknowledged on the cryptography mailing list, where only the smartest of the smart gathered.

He understood better than anyone that geniuses hated acknowledging other people’s genius.

But this person who had improved his Bitcoin... OREZ—who on earth was he?

“OREZ, OREZ, OREZ... That’s ZERO spelled backward.”

Writing what you meant in reverse was the most basic trick in cryptography.

Something kids even did for fun.

But the man didn’t think this was merely some joke or bit of amusement.

Zero, meaning 0... If he reversed that and used it as his name, does that mean he’s saying he’s ‘infinity’?

How many people in the world could call themselves infinity?

Even he, who had thought himself a genius among geniuses, couldn’t call himself that.

So he had mixed together the names he used online and the name of the existence he admired most, then created a pseudonym.

And under that pseudonym—Satoshi Nakamoto—he had posted his masterpiece to the cryptography mailing list.

And yet it got improved in just three weeks...

He had bitten his nails so much that blood had begun to seep from his fingers.

Still, he paid it no mind and sent the email anyway.

To the genius who had surpassed him, the one called OREZ.

His fingers stopped there.

...What exactly am I trying to say to OREZ?

You made a hole in my paper and that pisses me off?

If it weren’t for you, I’d be the greatest genius alive?

Who the hell are you?

Die?

“...No. That’s not it.”

Tap tap.

Muttering under his breath, he sent the email.

He was curious. Who was OREZ?

...He won’t reply.

He himself had never replied to anyone on the cryptography mailing list.

No—he had never even felt that their words were worth reading.

In that sense, OREZ would probably ignore him too.

To a genius like that... everyone else would look like idiots, morons, animals wearing human skin but still no smarter than beasts.

Just as he had always looked at other people.

It’s... over.

He had believed himself the greatest genius in the world, the greatest genius in history.

But it turned out he was only a frog at the bottom of a well; there were greater geniuses out there after all.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And he didn’t want to live in a world like that.

Well... I was going to end it anyway.

When he had decided that the whole world saw him as a fool who could never be understood, he had already made up his mind: mine the first Bitcoin, verify it, and then simply leave this world.

But then someone called OREZ had appeared, several times greater than him...

So even that seemed meaningless now.

Whether I die now or in a few months, it won’t even amount to a page in human history.

Then—

Ping.

“...?”

An email had arrived. He assumed it would be some idiot asking whether OREZ had really read the paper.

But it wasn’t.

When he checked the screen, he was genuinely shocked.

...OREZ had replied.

Why...? To him, I must look like a complete idiot. Doesn’t he think I’m some fool who mistook himself for the greatest genius and then acted up in front of the real thing?

He couldn’t understand why OREZ had answered.

But what he couldn’t understand even more was the content of the email.

Content: I am a student who will be entering university soon.

“...A student who’s about to enter university?”

A genius like that was going to college?

Why? There’s no reason to go to university at all!

And not even for a doctoral program—just “entering” university?

Tap-tap-tap-tap—!

He truly couldn’t make sense of it, so he replied at once.

And then he waited again, for an answer.

Fortunately, the reply came quickly.

Content: Because university might contain something I don’t know. I want to go and become a son my family can be proud of, and I also have my own personal reasons for attending.

“...”

Because there might be something you don’t know...? And you want to be a son your family can be proud of...?

Ha.

The man let out a hollow laugh.

Then he roughly pushed back the hair that covered half his face and buried his hands against his skin.

“Even a real genius like that says there’s still something to learn in this world... and what am I, then?”

After a long while, thinking to himself, the man sent two emails.

One was to the cryptography mailing list, a declaration that the creator of Bitcoin was not me, but OREZ.

The other was addressed to OREZ.

Tap.

After sending the two emails, the man shut off the computer and stood from his chair. His body was all skin and bones, and the loose T-shirt hung off him like a sack.

Dragging himself to the far end of the room, he stopped by the window.

“...”

Shhkk...

He drew back the curtains that had been blocking the light.

The sunlight he hadn’t seen in so long was beautiful—so bright it almost hurt.

Maybe it’s too soon to disappear. There still seem to be too many things left in the world to learn.

I checked the final email sent to Satoshi Nakamoto.

...

I felt a question rise at that email.

Zero, what does he mean, “because of you, I found a reason to live”...?

“Satoshi Nakamoto had believed there was nothing left in the world to learn, so he planned to leave behind only his masterpiece, Bitcoin, and disappear forever. But through his conversation with Master, he realized there was still much left to learn, and regained the will to live. From now on, he’ll live as a genius who understands humility, not arrogance.”

A humble genius, huh...

“Geniuses can be eccentric, so it may be difficult to understand. In any case, he’ll now go out into the world and do many good deeds. Fighting hackers, or perhaps siding with hackers to fight injustice, and so on.”

That was a relief.

“And one more thing: thanks to Master’s paper, the probability that many cryptography geniuses who had been skeptical of Bitcoin will now believe Bitcoin is real is extremely high.”

So Bitcoin will take off faster than in the original history?

That wasn’t good. It would only make the competition fiercer for me.

Of course, I had Zero, so it wasn’t a huge problem, but I still had no interest in a more crowded field.

“No. It won’t change much. Even in the original timeline, countless geniuses argued Bitcoin’s value, but most of the public dismissed it as nonsense. For instance, Bitcoin was originally only used to buy a pizza for 20,000 coins, or for payments on illegal porn sites. If anything, because Master has already published a paper supplementing Bitcoin’s weaknesses, its value will be amplified even more later.”

Then how many coins am I planning to mine from now on?

“Originally, the first coin—the Genesis Coin—was mined on January 3, 2009. But with Master’s coins, mining will begin tonight on Master’s computer immediately, and once the Seongsu-dong ‘coin factory’ is complete, I plan to mine in earnest. The intended holdings will be on the level of the roughly 1.1 million Bitcoins originally held by Satoshi Nakamoto, after which I will release the source code so anyone can mine.”

To corner 1.1 million of them in advance...

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much that would be in Korean won.

Probably money I could spend my whole life squandering and still never get through.

Even now, there were so many digits in my stock account that, if I actually tried to spend all of it, I couldn’t even picture how.

Fine. Then let’s mine 1.1 million. Well... “just” 1.1 million is a weird way to put it, but still. Let’s settle at that.

“Yes, Master. There is one final matter I’d like to confirm.”

What is it?

“Whether you will accept Satoshi Nakamoto’s request or not.”

If it was his request...

He wanted me to leave his signature on the second coin I’d mine.

That was fine.

In fact, compared to the fame of a genius I’d taken so easily, it seemed only right to grant him that much.

Let’s do that. And put your name on the first coin.

“By my name, do you mean ‘ZERO’? Not the alias you used for Master, written as OREZ?”

Use your own name. After all, you’re the one who made that coin.

“...”

Zero stayed silent for a moment, then answered.

“...Thank you, Master.”

?

For some reason, Zero’s voice sounded a little different from usual.

It was probably just my imagination.

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, December had arrived.

Plenty had happened in the meantime. First of all, my coin factory had been completed and settled in.

A factory where computers mined coins twenty-four hours a day.

I had to install extra air conditioners and ventilation to cool the massive heat generated by graphics-card mining.

According to Zero, this winter was unusually cold, so separate cooling might not have been necessary, but I installed it anyway just in case.

By then, I had mined about 230,000 Bitcoins.

That was still a long way from my target of 1.1 million, so I planned to keep the factory running for the time being.

On top of that, I’d recently signed up for a gym.

I’d never lived a life remotely close to exercise, but if I wanted to enjoy my youth, a healthy body—no, a good body—was essential.

That said, I didn’t hire a trainer. I downloaded the workout method from Zero and trained on my own.

It was the routine of Jaybome, the man who’d won Mr. Olympia five times.

Downloading his workout method didn’t mean I could exercise just like him. The difference between us in bodybuilding talent and training was enormous.

Still, I figured my form was better than most intermediates.

There were side effects, though...

One was muscle soreness. The other was that the gym owner had started looking at me as if he wanted to “claim” me for himself after seeing my form.

He even gave me protein shakes, so... it was a little overwhelming, but the gym was decent and close to home, so I kept going.

December 8, classroom.

School life had always felt like nothing but movie-watching to me, but today there was a special event—or rather, an incident.

“All right, at last, the long-awaited CSAT score reports are here.”

At the teacher’s words, the students let out long sighs and lowered their heads.

─ ...

─ ...

─ ...

─ ...

─ ...

“You bastards, I’m talking and every one of you has your head down already. You know your scores anyway! Just take it already, you little brats!”

─ Yesss...

“Sigh... Fine. I know how all of you feel. Still, if you apply to the colleges I picked for you, you’ll all end up fairly satisfied, so don’t worry too much.”

After saying that, the teacher raised his voice again.

“Come up one by one, starting from number one, and collect your score reports.”

I got mine.

I already knew my scores, but actually holding the paper in my hands made it feel strangely new.

Name: Kim Dohyun

School: Jinil High School

Test Number: ********

*Standard Score

Language: 151

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Math (Type A): 156

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Foreign Language (English): 149

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Physics 1: 74

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Chemistry 1: 69

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Physics 2: 76

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Chemistry 2: 73

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

Second Foreign Language (Arabic): 99

Percentile: 100

Grade: 1

All firsts—no, even beyond that, an average percentile of 100.

No matter how much money was in my account, no matter how many hundreds of thousands of coins I had, looking at this still made me happy.

Maybe enough time had passed since my regression that I was slowly growing used to who I was now.

After receiving the score report, I was heading home when my homeroom teacher called me over.

“Dohyun, come out into the hallway for a second.”

“Ah, yes.”

Why was he calling me?

As I approached, the teacher spoke with a serious look on his face.

“I got a call in the teachers’ office this morning... There’s only one student in the entire country who got a perfect score on the CSAT this year. You.”

I already knew I was the only perfect scorer because Zero had told me so.

Still, hearing it from someone else made it feel new again.

“Apparently the reporters found out somehow, and the teachers’ office has been getting tons of calls.”

“Reporters?”

“Yeah. They want to interview you. I think the 9 o’clock news and the front page of the three major newspapers are basically guaranteed. It’s not just education reporters either—seems like current-affairs reporters are coming too. What do you want to do?”

...An interview?

That was something I hadn’t considered. But thinking about it, it was also only natural.

I vaguely remembered seeing interviews with CSAT perfect scorers, talking about how they studied and all that.

There was even someone who said they studied mainly through textbooks.

So should I do the interview or not?

During my college life, I wanted to keep the fact that I was rich hidden if possible. In that sense, an interview as a perfect CSAT scorer wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t about money.

But now that I think about it, it does sound a little annoying... Zero, what do you think?

“The choice is entirely yours, Master. If it’s bothersome, you can simply say the interview would be too much of a burden and decline. If you’d like to show your face in the news or newspapers, then by all means, proceed.”

My choice, huh...

Even if it’s annoying, it might be fun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to do.

Honestly, how many people in the world get to appear alone on TV or in the newspapers?

Even celebrities who appear on TV all the time desperately want a chance like a solo feature—enough to make them drool.

For me, it could even count as the debut of a “glorious youth.”

And... thinking about it, meeting the reporters might be a good opportunity too. In South Korea, being on good terms with journalists has all kinds of advantages.

I’d considered it from a few angles, but the truth was, I had a different reason for wanting the interview.

This is a chance to publicly embarrass my relatives on a broadcast the whole nation will watch.

Those people who had shoved every debt onto my father, then washed their hands of us before and after Grandpa died.

I was going to bring it up—not too openly, but enough to make sure the whole country heard it on the news.

The story practically wrote itself. A perfect CSAT scorer who kept studying despite a poor family ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠background. The one thing that made his life hardest wasn’t money, but his relatives. That sounded convincing enough.

“The reporters will love it too. It’s got massive buzz potential.”

Right?

“Yes. And an interview like that will cement your image in the public mind as a ‘pure genius who is poor but loves his family.’ That will become your strongest weapon later, when we frame your enormous wealth and business activities as the rightful success of a pure genius. It will be your best asset for becoming an admired chaebol.”

Then—

“Yes, sir. I’ll do the interview. When should it be?”

Of course, this wouldn’t be the end of my revenge against my relatives.

No, this wasn’t even the beginning.

I was going to keep pressing them slowly, relentlessly, until they were crushed all the way through—just like my family had once been.