Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: The Outsider Who Receives an Apology
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◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Song Chang-won's presentation... was a total disaster.
His eyes were glued to the script the entire time, and because he couldn't get the mic distance right, his voice cut out repeatedly mid-sentence.
The content itself? Eh, about "not bad for a high schooler who put in some effort"?
Han Si-a and I were waiting offstage, so we couldn't hear the audience chatter, but their expressions made it obvious what they thought of Song Chang-won's performance.
And during Q&A... no one asked a single question...
I didn't actually wish for him to flop this hard.
...
...
Nah. Thinking it over again, that jerk kinda deserves it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Han Si-a, standing next to me, seemed to share my take on Song Chang-won's presentation. Her face a bit stiff, she said,
"The audience reaction is colder than I expected. The presentation had some flaws, sure, but for a high schooler who prepared it alone, it wasn't bad. If I'd been in his shoes... I'd probably have burst into tears after."
"Our presentation first set the bar way too high. And hey, he was the one who picked a fight with us, so he had this coming."
I grinned, feeling satisfied, and she gave me a look like I was some weirdo.
"What? You were the one who suggested getting revenge on Song Chang-won. Don't make me out to be the bad guy here—that hurts my feelings."
"No, it's just... if there's anything about me you don't like, I'd rather you tell me upfront."
...Even after she threatened to shove me down the stairs, getting that look from her stings a little.
In the end, our revenge was a success.
Sure, it didn't have the cathartic punch of landing a real hit,
but Song Chang-won botched the final presentation so badly, he's definitely taken a huge mental hit.
Bet the mere sight of "group project" will make him tremble from now on.
If real high-school me had gone through that, I'd probably have developed a full-blown fear of public speaking.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ *** - Post-Presentation Meeting Room.
In a spacious room, around twenty adults packed tightly around a long rectangular table.
Some irritated, some angry, some chuckling, some gravely reviewing presentation materials—everyone just pushing their own agendas, leaving the atmosphere chaotic no matter how much time passed.
"Si-a's team puts on such a stellar show, and my kid just slacked off? Does that even make sense?"
"Your son chose to quit, so you can't blame others!"
"If Tae-won had been on Si-a's team, he could've done even better!"
"You think I shelled out that money just to let my kid get carried?!"
The loudest voices belonged to the mothers whose kids had bailed on the project midway and goofed off instead.
This program was designed to pit upper-class kids against each other, giving their children a shot at impressing the power players.
But their own kid not only failed to finish but dropped out to play? From a mom's perspective, that had to burn.
Some raised their voices, desperately pinning blame elsewhere, while others conversed more calmly.
"The project was tough, sure, but who knew giving them the option to bail would lead to a mass exodus."
"Wasn't like this back in our day. These kids today lack grit."
"Grit's just the start—no independence, no teamwork... We loosened the reins when they started doing well, and look what happened. Might be time to break out the rod again."
"In the end, aside from Han Si-a, no other kids stood out this year. As promised, let's put just her name on the list for now."
"Haha, thank you for thinking so highly of my daughter. I'm sure next year, others will get their chance too."
The room buzzed with parents of participants and invited speakers trading varied opinions.
But not one mentioned Jeong Yi-an.
Everyone knew he was a key player in the presentation, yet they all pretended otherwise with averted eyes.
This gathering's purpose was to pre-allocate prime future paths for their kids.
Skilled or not, there was never a spot for an outsider like Jeong Yi-an to begin with.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The awards ceremony came after the adults' closed-door meeting, during dinner that evening.
And the results were:
➤ Grand Prize: Han Si-a's Team. Prize Money: 5,000,000 won ➤ Excellent Award: Song Chang-won's Team. Prize Money: 1,000,000 won Despite my contributions, my name wasn't on the plaque.
Originally meant for one recipient per team, they'd split it into two awards for some reason.
Watching just Han Si-a and Song Chang-won called up as team reps to receive plaques and pose for photos, I could picture the meeting room chatter.
...
Well, this was an event funded by elite parents pooling money, so I get their choices.
From their view—having invested—the outsider kid crashing the party and stealing the show would've ruined it.
I only joined for the prize money anyway, so no hard feelings.
Heck, earning 5 million won in a week has me floating on air.
.
.
.
But hearing the 5 million would be split evenly between the two of them? That stung a bit.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The final night in Daegwallyeong, after classes, presentations, and awards. Following the schedule, us students headed outside.
For stargazing.
Clear skies, darkened moon, far from city lights—no light pollution. Daegwallyeong's night sky was pitch-black, rare for Korea, brimming with countless stars.
Last time I'd seen a sky this starry was in the army, pre-regression.
I used to love stargazing back then.
No pricey telescope—parents wouldn't buy one—but just gazing up was enough.
I'd begged them for a planetarium trip once, stayed up past midnight alone for a meteor shower forecast.
Never actually saw one, though.
Back then, the night sky felt like an unknown frontier. Staring up, I was an explorer traversing infinite mysteries.
Now? No thrill, no wonder.
Maybe 'cause I know the stars are impossibly far,
or that staring changes nothing.
The other kids? Clinging to the telescopes, squealing in awe at white dots, oblivious to time.
But seeing the line form, I knew this'd drag on awhile.
Bored, I plopped on the stairs.
As I killed time, Han Si-a sidled over and sat beside me.
Too dark to see faces, but I could tell by her footsteps or faint silhouette now.
We sat in silence for minutes.
Just as mosquito worries hit, she spoke.
"Don't you wanna try the telescope?"
"Nah, not really into it."
"..."
"..."
Back to silence.
She seemed to have something on her mind—better to wait than pry.
Soon, she spoke hesitantly, shrinking a bit.
"Th-that first night... I got curious and sipped the professor's drink. My bad—I showed you something embarrassing. Sorry."
First night, we'd approached Professor Park Jong-chan to pry info, but she'd acted weird after.
Dragging me to my room for "comfort," then shoving me on the bed...
'Urgh...!!! What kinda high schooler has abs like that!? Unforgivable. Acting all monk-like no matter how I dolled up, but hiding this body underneath!!!!!'
I'd promptly rolled her in the blanket and tossed her out. Booze explains it.
Apologizing on the last night? Must've really embarrassed her.
But taking it straight-faced would kill the fun, so I teased.
"Heh... my abs that good, huh?"
"..."
I figured she'd snap—"Don't be ridiculous!" or "It was the alcohol!!!"
But her response? Way off.
"...Yeah."
"...?"
What? Not the reaction I wanted.
She didn't play along with the joke—now I'm lost for words.
Just bask in ab pride?
Feels like I turned into the clueless outsider killing the vibe with a dumb joke everyone else saw coming.
(Well, I am an outsider.)
Silence again.
Then, tense and trembling, she whispered,
"D-do you... have a girlfr—"
"Jeong Yi-an, Han Si-a. There you are. Got a minute? Tomorrow we head home, so I wanted to apologize while I could."
She was mid-sentence when Song Chang-won interrupted.
But she'd started first, so I prioritized her.
"Sorry, she was talking. Mind waiting?"
"Uh... no, it's fine. I wasn't saying anything. Song Chang-won, go ahead."
She panicked and backed off, handing him the floor.
.
.
.
Song Chang-won apologized sincerely, uncharacteristically for a high schooler, for ignoring me from day one.
He'd assumed—based on "ordinary" kids he'd seen—that I was incompetent with an inflated ego, just causing trouble.
Had he known a normal-family kid could excel like this, he wouldn't have.
...But that's 'cause I'm a regressor. His view's not far off.
Experiencing it firsthand, elite kids are leagues ahead educationally.
Swap me for any average Baekseung high schooler? He'd be dead weight, as Song said.
So his attitude toward the incompetent—not the perception—needs fixing.
Still, pre-regression, he kept that attitude and became a professor anyway, so who am I to judge?
Everyone lives their way.
And the Song Chang-won I met in grad school never changed, so preaching here'd be like reciting sutras to a cow's ear.
I accepted the apology.
Feeling good with prize money incoming, no need to sour it.
Plus, I figured he'd be more broken after the presentation flop—holing up, not apologizing.
Doing it cleanly anyway? Impressive enough.
...
Han Si-a's glaring at him like she resents it, though.
Still mad?
Raised rich, maybe 2.5 million won doesn't cut it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ *** - Han Si-a's Text Records
💬 Texts — Han Si-a So-mi, the program's over. Heading home tomorrow. — Yoo So-mi Si-a! Finally gonna see you again? (∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗) But brace yourself—it's crazy hot here. ⁄(⁄ ⁄°⁄–⁄°⁄ ⁄)⁄ — Han Si-a So-mi, got a question... You work part-time with Yi-an, so maybe you know. — Yoo So-mi What is it? Ask away! ⸜( ◜࿁◝ )⸝︎︎ — Han Si-a Does Yi-an have a girlfriend? — Yoo So-mi Nope. But why do you ask?