The Interview That Shook the Family
That evening, after the interview, Kim Dohyun’s house was unusually lively.
“Wow... this is so good. Gold Olive Chicken...! Oppa, seriously, thank you so much...”
“It’s that good?”
“Yeah! It’s amazing! I really wanted this chicken!”
With her eyes wide and sparkling, Kim Seohee ate the chicken with both hands. It was still so hot that steam rose from it, but she didn’t seem to care in the slightest as she stripped the meat from the bones in no time at all.
This had originally been something Dohyun’s parents had planned to buy.
Instead, Dohyun had ordered two whole boxes first—expensive chicken advertised by the hottest celebrity around these days.
It’s nice to see Seohee enjoying it that much.
Dohyun smiled in satisfaction.
Normally, his mother would have scolded Seohee. Something like, “You little brat, are you going to eat it all? Eat slower so your brother can have some too!”
But neither his mother nor his father had the energy for that.
They were both glued to the 9 p.m. news.
“Now for our next story. Today, a jewelry store in Seoul was robbed.”
“Ugh, seriously, there’s never a quiet day in this tiny country. Why are there so many thieves?! They’re wasting airtime with useless news.”
---
“And why are they even talking about a thief on the nine o’clock news? There are more important things!”
His mother was getting frustrated because she wanted to see her son’s interview as soon as possible, and all they were doing was droning on about robbers.
Unlike her, his father sat calmly watching the screen. In truth, though, he was just as nervous and excited, which was why he had already downed three glasses of water.
Seeing them like that, Dohyun gave a small smile.
Looks like they’re even more impatient than I am.
“Of course they are. To your parents, Master is the proudest thing in the world.”
That was true.
Still, Dohyun couldn’t help worrying a little.
Zero, that interview... I did take a shot at our relatives, didn’t I?
“Yes.”
My parents might not take it well. Especially Father—those are still his younger brothers we’re talking about.
Just as Dohyun was speaking with Zero—
“Now for our next story. Yesterday, the results of the 2009 National College Scholastic Ability Test were announced. This year’s exam was so difficult that it’s already being called one of the hardest in history, and the controversy over its difficulty has erupted again after the standardized scores released today were higher than many experts predicted. In particular, this year’s CSAT drew considerable attention from political and business elites, as the son of Assemblyman Oh Manchan of the Sixth District and the children of Daehung Group Chairman Hong Daebak also took the test...”
“However, the CSAT authority has faced criticism head-on, and at one point even the director’s personal information spread across internet search portals...”
“Even amid all this controversy, however, there was a perfect score. Kim Dohyun, a third-year student at Jinil High School in Gangseo-gu, Seoul, is the only perfect scorer in the nation, and he even got a perfect score in Arabic, bringing his standardized score...”
“It’s coming!”
The moment she heard the word “CSAT,” Seohee dropped the chicken she had been eating and reacted instantly. In her left hand was a drumstick; in her right, a piece of breast meat.
“Shh, shh! Quiet!”
His mother hushed Seohee again.
His father also set down his cup and focused even more intently on the TV.
On-screen, the anchor had been talking about the CSAT, and then the footage cut to the principal’s office, where camera flashes exploded in rapid succession.
At the center of it all stood Kim Dohyun in his school uniform.
The Dohyun on the screen looked completely composed. He even wore the relaxed smile of someone who had done hundreds of interviews.
“Wow... Oppa really looks good on camera. Just like he does in person.”
“I told you to be quiet!”
Smack!
“Ow, why did you hit me!”
“Quiet!”
This time, his mother’s slap across the back must have really hurt, because tears welled up in Seohee’s eyes.
On TV, Dohyun’s interview was finally in full swing.
(How did you study...)
[Kim Dohyun, Jinil High School, third year, the nation’s only perfect scorer]
“To be honest, I didn’t have the luxury of studying anything beyond my textbooks. I didn’t have the money to buy expensive workbooks or go to academies. So I focused on my textbooks. I studied them over and over again until their contents were engraved in my head. Maybe I’m just not very smart, but rote memorization never worked well for me. So I tried to study why things were the way they were. It took longer that way, but I definitely felt like I learned a lot more.”
“...”
At those words, his father lowered his head slightly. The reason was simple: he felt terribly sorry hearing his son say that. But the Dohyun on-screen remained dignified.
(And which university and department will you be applying to? Surely the pre-med program at Hankuk University...)
“No. I’m planning to major in computer science at the College of Engineering at Hankuk University.”
“Huh?”
Seohee, who had been watching Dohyun on the TV with sparkling eyes, turned to look at the real one and asked,
“Oppa, you’re not going to med school?”
“Shh!!”
When their mother raised her hand again, Seohee hurriedly hid behind Dohyun.
Even though both his mother and father seemed surprised that their son was choosing computer science instead of medicine, they looked as if they didn’t want to miss a single word of his interview.
The reporter on screen pressed further.
(Computer science instead of medicine? That’s unexpected. Is there a particular reason...)
“Doctors save people. But I believe technology saves a country. Going forward, I also think IT technology will become the core of national competitiveness. With the technology I build, I want to create a world where no one has to give up their dreams because they’re poor, just like I once did.”
“Wow...”
Seohee’s mouth fell open.
...Has Oppa always been this good with words?
He was cool. Not just because he was her brother, but objectively speaking, he really was.
(Lastly, if there’s anyone you’d like to thank while we’re here...)
The interview was nearing its end. It was the perfect moment to wrap things up with a heartwarming story.
But Dohyun gripped the microphone and paused for a moment.
Then he spoke slowly.
“I’d like to thank the principal and my homeroom teacher. My homeroom teacher, especially, helped me so much that I never gave up on school. The people I’m most grateful to, of course, are my family. Thank you to my parents for supporting me even while working late into the night and through the weekends. I truly respect and love you.”
His mother wiped away tears.
His father’s eyes turned red too.
From the moment they saw their son speaking so proudly on TV, both of them had felt a strange warmth spreading through their chests.
Then, all of a sudden, a different kind of remark began to come out of the television.
“But... there are, unfortunately, people I can’t help but dislike.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
Everyone in the family looked a little puzzled.
Similar murmurs rose from the reporters around him on screen.
(Are you talking about school violence...)
“No. It’s not a school issue. The people I dislike are my relatives. They dumped my grandfather’s debt onto my father and then washed their hands of us—those same people who even asked whether we had hidden money tucked away somewhere.”
“...”
Clack.
His father, who had been holding his cup in a half-dazed state, set it down on the table.
A heavy silence settled in the living room.
On TV, Dohyun kept going.
“These were the relatives who should have helped when our family was at its hardest, but instead made things worse. Because of them, I learned the harsh truth of poverty and found the grit to study. So... should I call that gratitude?”
---
“I studied with the saying, ‘The best revenge is success’ engraved in my heart. From now on, I’ll succeed so thoroughly that those relatives will think, ‘Why were we so cruel to Kim Dohyun’s family? If we’d treated them even a little better, maybe some scraps would have fallen our way.’ And all the while, I won’t lose sight of where I started, no matter how poor we were...”
Dohyun on-screen spoke with unwavering emphasis, each word crisp and deliberate.
Watching himself, Dohyun felt fairly satisfied.
It was a revenge broadcast live to the entire nation—elegant, brutal, and, from Dohyun’s perspective, still nowhere near enough.
For a while, everyone in Korea who watches this news will be cursing them.
Of course, people wouldn’t know who those relatives were.
But the relatives themselves would have no choice but to feel exposed and walk around on edge, watching everyone else’s expressions.
If someone on the street looked at them, they’d wonder, Does he know me? If something didn’t go their way, they’d think, Is this because that brat Kim Dohyun gave that interview?
Thieves always get nervous first.
At the same time, in the house of Dohyun’s younger uncle—the same Kim Daewoo who had been watching TV—
his daughter, who was sitting beside him on the living room sofa, asked,
“...Dad, isn’t that Oppa Dohyun? If he’s talking about relatives, it sounds like he means us.”
“...”
“Dad? That is us, isn’t it!”
At his daughter’s flustered voice, Kim Daewoo’s expression stiffened.
She asked again, looking at her frozen father.
“Dad, is that true? Did you go to Grand-uncle’s house and demand money? Why would you do that?! Does Mom know you did that? No, wait—did Mom do it too?”
“...”
“Dad!”
Kim Daewoo couldn’t say a word.
He was too ashamed, and too angry. All he could do was tremble, fingers clamped around the remote control.
Back at Dohyun’s house—
Click.
The news moved on to the next segment.
“Now for our next story. While America’s Apple Phone continues to enjoy worldwide popularity, it still has not landed in Korea. Meanwhile, more and more consumers are criticizing what they call an ‘IT isolation policy’ that serves the interests of telecom companies and major corporations. Our reporters went out to meet consumers directly...”
Only the anchor’s voice filled the living room.
It had already been a quiet house, but now that all they could hear was the news, the silence felt even deeper.
His mother wore a strange expression—though one that was clearly favorable toward Dohyun—and Seohee kept stealing nervous glances in the heavy atmosphere.
Then, breaking the silence, his father finally spoke.
“...Dohyun.”
At that single word from his father, I met his eyes and answered.
“Yes, Father.”
I was curious what he was going to say, but I was worried too.
Just as I’d told Zero earlier, no matter how much our relatives had made our family suffer, they were still my father’s younger brothers.
No matter how much he hated them, they were still his brothers.
Since I had criticized those people on the 9 o’clock news in front of the entire nation, my father might very well scold me for it.
“...”
“...”
For a while, my father just looked at me without speaking.
It would be a lie to say I didn’t want to ask Zero what he was thinking, but there were things I could handle on my own—no, things I had to handle on my own—and I didn’t want Zero’s help with those.
Finally, my father spoke again.
It was not what I expected.
“Thank you.”
“...?”
He gave a small laugh, one that carried a bit of a sigh in it, but also unmistakable relief.
“Thank you for saying what I wanted to say. For speaking the words I haven’t been able to say for years... maybe words I’d never have been able to say at all.”
“...”
“And thank you again. Without my noticing, you’ve really grown into someone remarkable. Don’t be like me and keep everything bottled up in your chest—say what you want to say, and say what needs to be said. That’s how a man should live a life. If you only get one, you should live it like that.”
I hadn’t expected my father to say that...
...No, maybe I had known all along.
Before I regressed, my father had died of a heart attack brought on by “hwa-byung.”
How suffocating must that have been for him?
I was glad I’d been able to ease even a little of his resentment. In fact, I almost wondered whether I should have done it later, or hit harder.
And then there was this too.
It’s kind of a relief, like I’ve been given my father’s permission. Permission to go after the relatives... and, by extension, those con artists too.
My father was a good man. Also painfully honest, almost to a fault.
So I had worried, however faintly, that if he saw me using money and power to ruin the lives of our relatives and the scammers, he might be disappointed in me.
But since he had effectively “approved” it like that, there was nothing holding me back now.
Heh...
My father gave another relieved laugh and rose from the table.
Then he reached deep into the refrigerator and pulled out two beer cans—apparently bought at some point I had never even noticed—and said,
“But there’s something you don’t know, Dohyun.”
“Yes?”
Something I didn’t know?
“Beer goes with chicken. Not cola. You’re already an adult now—what are you doing still drinking cola with fried chicken?”
“Ah...!”
It had been a long time since I’d heard my father joke like that.
I couldn’t hide my smile.
That was when Seohee, sensing the lighter mood, jumped in.
“Then I want beer too!”
His mother cut her off immediately.
“You little brat, where do you think you fit in? And what kind of alcohol is this for a high school freshman?”
“Aww, come on! Dad said beer goes with chicken! ...Oppa, just one sip!”
“No alcohol for you.”
“Gasp... betrayal.”
Even seeing Seohee’s deliberately exaggerated disappointment made me feel calmer, somehow.
“When I become an adult, I’m gonna drink a ton...”
“You won’t even when you are one.”
“Huh?”
Then my father added another line.
“By the way, Dohyun. If you major in computer science, there probably won’t be many women there. You’re not planning to date in college? If you want to date and all that... wouldn’t medicine be better?”
He said “dating” as his reason, but I could tell my father really wanted me to go to medical school.
Which was only natural. If I were in his shoes and my son got a perfect CSAT score, I’d probably recommend medicine over computer science too.
It was much more stable and would earn more respect.
To my father, I poured a beer and said,
“Trust me, Father.”
“...All right. If that’s what you want.”
He backed me with just one line, then added,
“But you sure look natural holding a beer. Like you’ve drunk a lot before?”
...My father really was sharp.
Across two lives, this was the first time I’d ever had a drink with my father.
Well, aside from the drink I’d had at his funeral in my first life.
I’d never really liked alcohol all that much, but for some reason tonight it tasted unusually good.
And later that night, when the whole family was asleep—
I turned on the computer and went to an internet portal site.
There should be an article about my interview... ah, here it is.
There was even a separate article section. Interview with CSAT Perfect Scorer Kim Dohyun, it said.
I hadn’t expected them to go this far.
“That just shows how much attention people are paying to you.”
Right.
I checked the first article at the top.
[Exclusive] CSAT perfect scorer Kim Dohyun: “What was scarier than poverty was my relatives’ betrayal... Those who abandoned their family over money. Personal information exposed...”
OO News, Reporter Seo Hayeon
In a normal interview with a perfect CSAT scorer, the main topic should have been “How did you study?”
But as the headline made clear, the main story here was “betrayal by relatives” and “money.”
Excellent.
That was exactly the direction I wanted.
I made a note of Reporter Seo Hayeon’s name.
Since I wasn’t all that interested in the article itself, I went straight to the comments.
The comments section was a one-sided execution ground.
Judging by the tone of the comments, this person seemed to be quite famous on the portal.
...
Most of them were on my side.
But there’s always one or two counterrevolutionaries mixed in.
A counterrevolutionary Heavenly Demon, he was...
...
The Heavenly Demon was immediately crushed by the internet comment brigade.
To think they could crush a Heavenly Demon.
Our country’s comment army had terrifying combat power.
Satisfying.
At this point, it was certain the news had reached my relatives’ ears. Whether they saw the broadcast directly, read the online article, or overheard someone talking about it while passing by.
Each time, they’d flinch, get irritated, grow tense, and feel a dull ache in the pit of their stomach.
Stress might even make their hair fall out.
Well, this is only the beginning.
My small, long, deep revenge.
Click.
After reading a few more comments, I shut down the computer. Then I pulled an unopened delivery box from under my desk and tore it open.
It was a laptop from The Apple, one I’d bought together with the computer back in Yongsan.
Flash!
Whirr.
I plugged it in and powered it on. The apple logo of The Apple appeared on the screen.
A moment later, the initial boot was complete.
While the laptop was starting up, Zero asked,
“Are you planning to start building the messenger app in earnest now, Master?”
Yeah. Right now, if I want to make an app that can go on the Apple Phone, I have to build it on an Apple computer or an Apple laptop.
In 2008, Steve Jobson, the CEO of The Apple, was in the middle of aggressively emphasizing the “Apple ecosystem.” If Korea was practicing IT isolation on a national scale, The Apple was doing the same thing at the corporate level.
Unlike Korea, The Apple’s isolation policy actually worked spectacularly well.
Either way, if it wasn’t made on one of The Apple’s computers or laptops, you couldn’t create applications for the Apple Phone.
Of course, there were ways to break through it by hacking. Or I could illegally download The Apple’s operating system and use that to build apps.
But why bother?
I’d already bought a legitimate laptop with cash.
I’m going to be the one who takes first place in the world’s most-used free messaging app.
Free texting apps hadn’t appeared in the U.S. market yet.
Whatsup was scheduled to release an early version—a kind of beta—next January.
But that didn’t mean I was short on time.
Why? Because in its earliest form, Whatsup didn’t even support messaging. It was only capable of letting users post their own “status message.”
In other words, it was basically a pager turned into an app.
It wasn’t until September 2009 that real chat functions were added.
So all I had to do was finish my app and get it through review before next September, then release it on The Apple’s Apple Store.
I had more than enough time.
Still, the sooner the better.
Zero, let’s begin.
“Yes, Master. Then you develop the app, and I’ll review it in real time. At the same time, I’ll prepare for an early release in the United States.”
As expected, Zero was my most excellent, most perfect assistant.
A free messaging app now taken for granted. But when it first appeared, it was revolutionary.
After the success of Whatsup, free messenger apps would spring up all over the world.
Korea’s KokoaTalk would be one of them.
But I had no intention of sharing that market with anyone.
I need to combine the strengths of every free messenger app and erase the weaknesses... build an app no one can challenge, no matter how high my fortress rises.
By then, the roadmap for the app was already perfectly laid out in my head, so my hands never hesitated.
Tap-tap-tap-tap...
The night deepened.
---