The Ja-Dongja-Mari Race (2)
1st Annual Jadongja-Mari Race
Departing from Sinsi and following the maintenance road alongside the railway all the way to Seonju, the Ddareungi's current speed — only a little faster than a jogging pace — meant the trip would take 250 hours.
And since the route was littered with mountains, the real time was expected to run about 1.3 to 1.5 times longer.
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
"Whew. Whew."
"Let's give them a race to remember!"
The enormous prize money on the line was one draw, of course, but so was the chance to show off the skills they'd sharpened while customizing their own machines — and anyone who impressed could earn a spot at one of the companies.
In other words, this race could double as a job interview.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
And then, walking up to the starting line painted on the ground, came a figure — girl or woman, no one could quite tell.
"…"
"Whoa…"
Gulp…
With a population as vast as Daehan's, there were plenty of people who genuinely had no idea who Haneul was.
After all, you'd have to be someone like the Prime Minister, a cabinet minister, or a direct employee of the Daehan Company that Haneul personally ran to ever lay eyes on her.
"She's beautiful… Who is she?"
"Wow… If I win, d'you think I could meet her privately?"
Haneul, dressed in a pink tube top and black shorts, strolled forward savoring every lingering gaze, climbed onto the platform set at the center of the line, and stopped.
"All participants, please prepare for departure. When I wave the signal flag, you may begin. Your destination is Mudo. Anyone who leaves the route or cheats will be dragged straight to the Temple."
"Ugh…"
The mere mention of being taken to the Temple terrified the crowd instantly. Just what kind of education went on in that place?
But the fear faded almost as fast as it had come, and everyone went right back to staring at Haneul.
Whether they were watching for the signal or simply gawking at the view, nobody could say…
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
Only the rumble of countless exhaust pipes echoed through the stillness.
Standing on the platform herself, Haneul found the view from up here was entirely different from looking at it from below.
"The exhaust fumes are no joke. Doesn't anyone here have trouble breathing?"
Apparently nobody's breathing at all, judging by the looks of it.
Honestly, is staring at thighs and waists really that entertaining? You're all drooling. Disgusting.
The fellow directly beneath her needed a bib, no exaggeration.
"So I just wave this?"
Flap, flap.
There wasn't even a microphone or anything, so no speech needed — better to get this over with quickly, right?
Then why is nobody going?
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
"Why aren't you going! GO!"
"How are we supposed to go when the ones in front aren't moving!"
"Whose fault is that, huh?!"
Haneul could actually watch the cursing and shouting travel forward from the back of the pack in real time, like a wave rolling up the line.
Turned out the riders up front were too busy drooling over her to move.
"Hey, kids? If you don't start soon, those priest uncles over there are going to come haul you off. You're blocking the road, you know?"
"Can you see them flexing their muscles over there? They're about two seconds away from charging in."
"Gah!"
"What are we doing! We have to GO!"
"Right! This is a race, remember!"
"Go! Let's gooo!"
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
Only now did the lead riders set off — just barely squeaking out ahead of the torrent of profanity rolling in from behind.
Glitter, glitter.
Whoa, that's flashy. Really flashy. Something gold just blew past me — please tell me that's not actual gold?
I mean, we do have plating technology? Nah, no way. Right?
"MOVE! Everyone get out of the way!"
ROOOAAAR.
Since this was a race where people entered freely customized machines, apparently someone had gone completely overboard with the modifications.
Good thing the rules only allowed one engine each, or this would've been a disaster.
"GAHAHA! Eat my dust, you slowpokes!"
FWOOSH.
It's fast, I'll give him that? But if you mod it THAT far, won't the engine give out?
KABOOM.
"AAARGH!"
Called it. Something just exploded up ahead and launched a man into the air.
Vrrrm vrrrm.
A truly staggering number of racers were streaming past now.
Some of them had menacing, spike-covered exteriors, but thankfully none of them were actually all that fast.
I'm going to have to ban exterior modifications that endanger other people. Better safe than sorry.
"Wow…"
"Ooooh…"
All this is fine and dandy, but you kids need to stop gawking, okay? That's exactly how accidents happen.
"Huh?"
CRASH, TUMBLE, BANG.
See? That's what happens when you ride alone with your head in the clouds.
"Whoa whoa! Get out of the way!"
"What the—!"
"AAAAH!"
Crash. Thud. Slam. Crunch.
Wow… A mass-collision pile-up at the starting line. One gawking kid went down, another slammed into him, another toppled over, and now they're all tangled together—
"What is this mess!"
KA-CRUNCH.
The riders behind kept pushing forward, unable to stop, crashing into the pile again and again — at this rate it would easily become a two-hundred-bike pile-up, wouldn't it?
Um. I should probably slip away? I mean, technically the crash happened because I was standing here?
That's just a little embarrassing, isn't it?
The first motorcycle race, named after a father and mother. Enter one brother-and-sister pair: Ja Daeil, the eldest son of Ja Dongja and Yi Mari, and Ja Daehee, their eldest daughter.
"Oppa! Watch out ahead!"
"On it!"
Starting from the rear of the pack, the siblings spotted the massive pile-up near the starting line and veered off to the side.
It was pure luck that starting in the back meant fewer bodies around them, leaving just enough room to dodge.
Their position was practically dead last, but neither of them cared one bit.
"Oppa! Let's not rush it! This is a marathon, not a sprint!"
"I know!"
The siblings' Ddareungi had been fitted with a separate auxiliary seat built alongside the main one, with one of them riding there.
It was an odd sight compared to the other entrants, who had stretched their seats long or bolted cargo racks to the back.
The reason was simple: while one person drove, the other could check and inspect the engine from right beside it.
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
The siblings' exhaust note was indistinguishable from an ordinary stock Ddareungi engine.
Compared to the other participants, who had all laid hands on their engines to squeeze out more power, that made them the strange ones.
"Should we have modified our engine too?"
"Are you kidding? Dad built this engine, and you said it yourself — his work is the best there is!"
The siblings regarded the engine their father Ja Dongja had built as a finished masterpiece, beyond any improvement, and never touched it.
"It just feels like we're falling behind a little, that's all."
"Ha! Those idiots will figure it out soon enough!"
"Right — we've got our secret weapon!"
The siblings hadn't boosted their engine output like everyone else, but they'd brought a different weapon entirely.
"Hardly anyone around now, huh? Time to start!"
"Yeah! Let's do it!"
Squeak. Clack. Rumble-rumble.
Out of nowhere, Daeil pulled in the clutch and worked the lever mounted in front of the handlebars.
From the Ddareungi came the sound of power disengaging from the engine — and then something reconnecting.
"Yes! It's in!"
"Did it work? Release the clutch too — hurry!"
And Daeil let the clutch back out.
Squee-eek. CHUNK.
"Eek!"
"Nnngh!"
The Ddareungi suddenly surged forward.
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
The engine note stayed exactly the same, yet the speed kept climbing — a bizarre phenomenon.
"Yes! No problems!"
"Keep going — I'll monitor the gears and the engine from here!"
"Got it!"
And there was Daehee in the auxiliary seat, eyes glued to the engine and the gears. That was her role in this race.
The one who'd inherited Ja Dongja's genius wasn't the son — it was his daughter, Daehee. This gearbox was her creation, too.
Whiiiirring.
The gears turned with a faint, delicate hum.
Tick. Tock.
Seated alongside, Daehee kept spraying lubricant, watching constantly for any sign of trouble.
While the other entrants changed fuels and swapped drive shafts chasing higher engine speeds, the siblings had focused on exactly one thing.
Building a high-speed gear by exploiting the ratios of meshing teeth.
It had been anything but easy — making gears that could shift while in motion without breaking down was no simple feat.
"Yes! Dad's engine really is perfect!"
"That's right. Trust it and ride!"
As the siblings sped on, they could see countless participants pulled over at the roadside, engines dead.
"Damn it! It's completely melted!"
"Nnngh…"
"Should've never touched the engine…"
The problem was that in their desperate push for more output, they'd increased the fuel feed and started adding foreign additives.
Over a short sprint, it could produce explosive performance — but the contaminants gradually built up and wore the components out in record time.
"How many people have we passed so far, d'you think?"
"Don't worry about that yet! Just finishing puts us ahead of the game! Winning is a bonus."
"Right! Eyes forward, that's all!"
The siblings' Ddareungi ran at roughly 1.5 times the speed of a stock one.
But thanks to the wild modifications out there, plenty of riders were still far faster than they were.
Fast as the siblings were, many competitors still lay ahead of them. For now, this was a time to keep their eyes forward and ride.
"There — a fueling station!"
"Yeah. Let's rest a bit and check the engine over before we go."
"Got it."
As Ddareungis had spread everywhere, the old relay stations of bygone days had been converted into fueling stops.
Places that sold fuel and offered rest stops to travelers.
Since a Ddareungi could manage about fifteen ri on a charge, the stations had been placed every five ri along the route.
Squeak.
"Phew."
"Move over. And go grab some fuel while you're at it."
"Yeah, got it."
It was common sense that the heavier the load, the slower the ride. The siblings had done everything they could to cut weight.
They'd even gone on a weight-loss regimen before the race, and planned their meals carefully along the route.
One such measure: leaving the fuel tank only half full.
The spare parts stowed in the auxiliary seat couldn't be cut, after all. Anything that could be trimmed, they'd trimmed.
"Good, no issues. As long as this linked hose holds up, we'll be fine. Should be okay… right?"
"Bought the fuel!"
"Fill it and let's move."
"Yep!"
From Sinju until they crossed the horse fence and entered the mountains, the Sinsi Plains were one long, gentle climb — so gentle you could barely feel it.
The siblings kept riding in high gear.
Even at top speed, it would take a good twenty-six hours to cover the distance.
They rode day and night without pause. Whether it was the rest at every fueling station or simply a well-built machine, the engine ran effortlessly the whole way.
They took turns napping in the auxiliary seat as they rolled on and on.
Late the next morning.
The time was approaching when they would pass the horse fence and turn into the mountain roads. Countless heavily modified machines would meet their end on this very stretch.
"The grade's picking up now."
"Whew. Ready?"
"It's my gearbox! Trust it!"
"Let's go!"
Could there be yet another gear?
Come to think of it, the lever Daeil pushed to shift had three settings.
One for high speed, one for normal — so what was the last one?
Squeeak — clunk — graaank.
Not exactly smooth, but the gear changed all the same.
"There it is!"
"Puhaha. We're slow as dirt."
"Huh. You're right."
The siblings' motorcycle began crawling up the slope at a pace slower than a brisk walk.
The remaining gear of the three was, of course, the low gear.
"Once we crest this hill, we can speed right back up!"
"It's not like we can get off and push. Let's just ride it out!"
Internal combustion or external, every engine shares one great strength: it produces a steady, consistent force, hour after hour.
Which means it's at a slight disadvantage exactly where a sudden burst of power is needed — launching from a standstill, or climbing a hill.
Compare a one-horsepower engine to an actual horse: a horse can briefly exert up to fifteen horsepower at its peak, so on a climb like this, the difference is enormous.
Vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm vrrrm.
Even grinding up the slope, the siblings' engine kept turning with perfect, unbroken steadiness.
FOOMPH!
"Gah!?"
"No! That wasn't us! It was up ahead!"
Riding on a good while longer, the siblings came upon a man slumped at the roadside, soaked head to toe in fuel.
His engine had caught fire — he'd clearly pushed his modifications far past the limit.
From the hollow look on his face, he'd probably been near the top of the pack, too.
"See? This isn't a race you win just by being fast."
"I told you! It's a contest of who truly understands machines and how to handle them!"
When Daehee had first suggested entering the race, Daeil had thought the idea was absurd.
He knew she'd been trailing after their father, tinkering with machines since she was little — but the race had hardly looked easy.
She'd insisted she'd go alone if he wouldn't come, and he couldn't in good conscience send a girl off by herself, so he'd stepped up.
Even back then, she'd said the same thing. 'Driving skill and stamina are the second concern. This is a machinist's contest!'
Swept along by that fire in her, dragged all the way here, Daeil was starting to see his little sister in a whole new light.