Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Even If the Outsider Regresses, He's Still an Outsider
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ In December of my third year of middle school, toward the end of middle school life, there was this thing called the High School Entrance Exam.
Before my regression, it had long since vanished, but in 2010, when I returned, it was apparently still around.
I remember back then, it felt like if you didn't score high enough, you wouldn't get into high school, so everyone poured their hearts into solving those problems.
There was this rumor that if you didn't score well, you couldn't go to an academic high school even if you wanted to. Total bullshit, of course.
As far as I recall, kids who never cracked a book went on to high school just fine.
Which means I had zero reason—no, not even a speck—to bust my ass on this exam.
After all, I was going to become a Bitcoin millionaire after getting out of the military anyway.
College? Honestly, no need. A degree doesn't stop people from treating you like a kid wherever you go.
I know how Korean society works: rich kids who do nothing get more respect than hardworking scholars.
And get this—this High School Entrance Exam doesn't affect college admissions one bit!
So quit making me solve these damn problems!!!
I don't need to do this crap anymore!!!!
But when I snapped out of it, I'd already aced every subject with perfect scores.
Sitting there doing nothing the whole time felt like torture,
and middle school exam questions were so easy, they made for decent boredom relief.
Turns out, though, this High School Entrance Exam surprisingly influences class assignments.
At the March 2011 entrance ceremony, I ended up in a different class than before my regression.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Whoa! New class! New friends!
Sure, some familiar faces from classes over my three high school years, but since my social circle was always tiny before regressing, they're basically strangers.
Starting today, I'm in Class 2-1 at Baekseung High School.
Doesn't it make you anxious that your familiar future's already changing?
Not at all.
My legs are trembling with excitement instead.
Because I can finally shed my past as an Outsider and become an Insider!
On the first day, all the freshmen gather in the auditorium for the entrance ceremony.
It's the gym with folding chairs set up, turned into an auditorium, but the school put real effort into it—looks pretty sharp.
Most kids probably feel awkward next to strangers. What do high schoolers talk about when they first meet?
The buzz filling the auditorium piqued my curiosity, but I couldn't make out the words.
I was up on stage as a representative student, receiving some certificate-ish thing.
Rumor had it they picked reps by combining middle school grades and High School Entrance Exam scores. Guess my perfect score clinched it.
Two of us up front getting awards: me, and a pretty girl.
Name... Han Si-a.
Handing the freshman pledge to her means she's probably top of the overall scores.
Diligent studier, huh.
Standing before the whole school, Han Si-a read the pledge without a hint of nerves, straight from the script. Even reading verbatim, it didn't feel stiff—perfect pacing on the lines.
For a high schooler prepping for college apps, this pledge and certificate stuff means zilch for admissions, so it'd be a hassle. But this Han Si-a girl finished it with a smile like she'd loved every second, then bowed to the principal.
Hmm. Yeah. Like a sales rep plastering on a stiff, business smile while handing out catalogs.
Seeing that smile, I thought to myself,
Truth gets through in the end.
Real human connections come from honest words and actions,
not fake sales bullshit like yours—you won't make friends that way.
She's still young. Time to show her what a true adult's Insider drive looks like.
And about a month after the ceremony, I realized it was just the arrogance of an Outsider born to be one.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Things were fine at first.
As one of the freshman award recipients, and since top student Han Si-a from Class 1-1 got a different class,
I carved out the image of "Class Top Student Jeong Yi-an" in 1-2.
Used it as convo fodder with seatmates, learned where everyone went to middle school, where they lived, all that.
Pre-regression school life was dragged around by home and hagwon schedules, so I couldn't keep up with trendy games or comics back then,
but no hagwons now, so I'd catch up gradually.
Don't want teachers singling me out, so I participated enough not to get scolded,
and to avoid looking weak to bully types, I ranked high in PE fitness tests.
Freshmen had mandatory Evening Self-Study the first month, so I knocked out homework quick
and spent time plotting part-time gigs to save seed money for future Bitcoin investments.
I knew groups ditching for hagwon excuses one by one during self-study.
By dismissal, half were gone.
But I stuck it out.
Already told my parents no hagwons, and dipping out halfway wouldn't earn cash anyway.
So to start a real part-time job and build seed money, I had to wait out the mandatory period.
But these mundane choices triggered a butterfly effect, turning into a storm that wrecked my Insider plan.
1. Stuck with the "Class Top Student" image and zero knowledge of trendy games or comics.
2. So the guys in class didn't bother inviting me to PC Bangs or comic shops during self-study skips—their group formed without me.
3. Gossipmongers exist everywhere, and with my visibility, I became a target. "Talks like an old man," "Heard he's job hunting already—family must be poor," all sorts of crap.
4. Rumor spread that award picks weren't purely by grades. (True, but teachers fuzz it up to avoid ranking kids outright.) That sparked it.
5. Ended up with bullshit like "Jeong Yi-an can't game, family's broke, not even that smart," and "Clueless loser acting deep with an old-man voice."
Around a month into the semester.
Chatting with a guy who sucked at studying but dreamed of being a scientist, career talk came up.
Having worked as a researcher post-regression, I knew the field and shared what I knew, but...
To high schoolers in this pre-YouTube/SNS era, "graduate school" was alien,
and when I explained it, the guy suddenly blew up.
"Ha, this jerk's so full of himself. Knows everything, huh?"
Too far from his imagination? He chose to doubt me over facing reality.
I tried calmly clearing the misunderstanding, but I was the only one in class who truly knew about grad school.
My logical defense lost to my "clueless poser" image,
and when I came to, I was branded the "crazy kid" in class.
Meanwhile, top Insider Han Si-a next door already had friends by the truckload.
Life at eighteen...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ After that mess, I ditched the Insider plan cold.
Why do humans chain themselves to illusions like love and friendship and suffer?
Letting go is so damn freeing...
Pre-regression me was an Outsider at school. Post-regression me too.
So post-regression me proved pre-regression choices were right.
Besides, school life's not what matters to me.
Part-time cash for Bitcoin seed money is.
It's 2011 now. Bitcoin's about 500 won each.
By my military discharge after slogging as a grunt, it'll hit 20 million.
Simple math: 37,000x return.
So this hagwon-district sandwich shop gig at 5,000 won/hour? That's 185 million an hour in future value!
Plus, self-employed bosses set their own wages. Think a regressor like me settles for 5k?
Mandatory Evening Self-Study ended, and I jumped straight into part-time work.
Plotted max efficiency, but high schoolers scouting jobs have slim pickings.
Full 8-hour shifts after school? Brutal. Need peak-time 3-hour slots, but bosses rarely hire students for those.
Why? Kids job-hunting during study time scream "problem child." Owners aren't idiots.
Finally landed a peak-time spot at a hagwon-district sandwich shop.
Evening rush: bratty kids as main customers, low-budget, so razor-thin margins, high labor needs.
Bosses cut costs by working peaks themselves since kids won't take hard gigs.
I needed exactly that slot. Mutual interests aligned—hired.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ At the hagwon sandwich shop, I was ace material in just two days.
Sure, I look like a freshman punk, but inside? 35-year-old salaryman.
Learned every detail diligently, never slacked on shift.
Inventory, ordering, supplier scheduling, remaking grimy menus—stuff no high school peak-timer would touch, I handled.
The Sandwich Shop Owner watching me started thinking like a true Korean capitalist:
"Maybe cut part-timers now, max profits?"
Here, prove my value, negotiate a raise.
Two weeks in,
at the counter, I locked eyes with our school's top student and ultimate Insider, Han Si-a, frozen in "What're you doing here?" mode.
Unlike her perpetual smile amid friend swarms at school, she looked blank, exhausted now.
Yeah. Eyes must be bleary from fatigue.
Guess she's at a hagwon nearby.