Perfect Score Glory and Olympic Fever
Two weeks after winning the Regional Academic Competition.
The results were out: a perfect score. One hundred points, plain and simple. With the schoolyard packed full of kids, the principal himself called my name clearly and boldly.
"Um... Han Seoyeon has brought pride to Yeonhwa Elementary School as the first—and only—perfect scorer in the history of our competitions. On behalf of the school, we present her with the top commendation plaque."
And that was just the beginning. Word had spread somehow, and the media went wild covering it.
Hansung Family's Only Daughter Han Seoyeon Claims Sole Perfect Score in Regional Academic Competition!
Korea's Premier Prodigy Girl from the Hansung Family Dominates Seoul-Area Regional Academic Competition with Unprecedented Solo Perfect Score...
Flawless Reasoning and Problem-Solving: Could Han Seoyeon Become Korea's First-Ever IMO National Team Member?
Top scorers from the Regional Academic Competition earned qualification for the preliminary round of the Korean Mathematical Olympiad (KMO). But Korea didn't even have a KMO or IMO pathway yet. The Korean Mathematical Olympiad wouldn't launch until 1987, so at this point, there was no national math olympiad system whatsoever.
What a shame... It had been ages since I'd slipped back into a child's mindset and studied systematically—it was downright fun. Solving each problem cleared my mind like a fresh breeze.
"Kuhaha! As expected of Han Sung-cheol's granddaughter. My Seoyeon is lifting this old man's long-buried burdens!"
Even in his packed schedule, Grandpa had splurged on an expensive Japanese camera just to capture my award moment. He planned to frame it for his study later.
"Young miss, you're incredible!"
Dr. Lee handed me a celebratory bouquet.
"Thanks! Hehe!"
"Even for a regional competition, a perfect score is unreal. If you'd pulled this off overseas, it would've caused a massive stir."
Come to think of it, Dr. Lee was a renowned engineer in Korea. Most of Hansung's production facilities had passed through his hands. Sure, he was working with me now on ramen R&D at the food research lab, but that didn't diminish his stature. In the field, he was practically called the real brain of Hansung Group—still one of the most trusted names in tech and process design.
Thanks to me, Yeonhwa Elementary School crushed the Regional Academic Competition. Seniors like Jeong Hae-won and the rest scored high too, lifting the whole school's spirits. Even as first-graders, Hae-won and I notched over 70 points, drawing quiet gasps from the older kids.
The top students like Gwang-woo oppa and Mi-yeon unnie were thrilled too.
"Considering the difficulty, we did pretty great. Some kids bombed it completely..."
Gwang-woo oppa casually filled me in on the competition buzz.
"Especially problem 25 on proofs—over half couldn't even touch it. For grade-schoolers like us, it required high school formulas, so tons of kids couldn't even approach it."
"Hee, really?"
Mi-yeon unnie chimed in at my question.
"Without you, we probably wouldn't have solved it. Problem 25 looked simple at first, but once you sorted the conditions and shifted to proof, it turned into a whole different beast..."
Mi-yeon unnie traced formulas in the air with her finger, explaining slowly.
"And 25 was tough, but 28's logic was way beyond our level. If you hadn't flagged it as a predicted question, we wouldn't have touched it."
Was it that hard? It felt easy to me. Well, reborn with past-life memories, I'd have cried if I couldn't ace a mere regional contest. I'd dabbled in KMO and IMO back in my university days, after all.
"Oh yeah! You hear the news?"
Gwang-woo oppa lowered his voice, sharing fresh gossip.
"What news?"
"That genius girl from Samcheong-dong. Name was...?"
"Cha Eun-seol?"
"Huh? You know the Samcheong-dong genius?"
How could I not? She sat right next to me.
"Yeah, she was next to me in the exam room."
"No kidding?"
"Why? Something happen to her?"
"Not exactly 'something happened,' but everyone knows this test was her worst ever."
The Regional Academic Competition ran yearly—not mandatory, but Cha Eun-seol from Samcheong-dong had never missed one.
"She didn't take first this time. Because you did."
"Eh... Is that such a big deal?"
Wasn't scoring first one time and second another just how exams went?
But Gwang-woo oppa shook his head.
"It's different. For local fame, sure—you're right. But nationally? That's another story."
Was Samcheong-dong's genius a nationwide name? Seriously? The KMO launched in 1987, but prodigies with reputations across Korea existed before then. I was now one, thanks to this contest.
"Eee... I just wanna live quietly."
"Doubt it. Not with a perfect score. Your name's probably spreading nationwide by now."
No way! I'd only joined on Grandpa's urging for early graduation. I didn't want this fuss. My real goal: graduate early, breeze through college, snag a PhD, inherit Hansung Food from Dad as an adult. Turn it into Korea's top food giant, export worldwide, and dominate the global ramen market.
Hold up? A weird thought hit. I mulled over Cha Eun-seol's name.
"......?"
Huh? No matter how I racked my memories, I'd never heard of her in my past life. A genius this hyped in the 80s vanishing later? In the exam room, her brain clearly outclassed the others. With KMO coming in four years, someone that skilled should've made waves...
What happened to Samcheong-dong's genius girl?
Time flew, and a full year passed. I'd finished first grade—not advancing to second, but jumping straight to fifth at Yeonhwa Elementary School. Grandpa had twisted arms in education circles, insisting I was prime early-graduation material.
School exams? All perfect. Regional comp? Solo perfect. Every test after? Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect! Anyone else would've slipped on one problem, but not me.
"Humph! This body is Korea's bright future!"
Surprisingly, Jeong Hae-won skipped to fifth grade too. Gwang-woo oppa and other original sixth-graders graduated to middle school. At the ceremony, they hugged and bawled like crazy...
I quietly pulled a newspaper from my bag—the one from Bukchang-dong mansion.
It was now 1984. And 1984 meant a blockbuster event: the Los Angeles Olympics. With it looming, the nation buzzed feverishly. Shop streets dangled tiny Taegeukgi flags. Radios blared athletes' names nonstop.
Can Korea Snag Medals at the Los Angeles Olympics?
Haeguri Sales Hit 150 Million Packs! Who Will Win the Apartment Prize?
Hansung Food's Wild Promo: An Apartment for Every Olympic Gold. Is This the Secret to Haeguri's Success?
The Haeguri ad's apartment vouchers were making waves too. Winners? Instant life-changers. Salaries topped out at 300,000 won monthly—saving for one apartment meant starving and slaving away. The promo screamed "too good to be true."
Folks speculated wildly on winners. Papers splashed it as headlines.
Whoa! 150 million packs in so short a time? I'd guessed maybe 100 million tops, but nope—way off. That apartment prize was nuclear. Odds: one in 150 million. Worse than lotto's one-in-8-million by 18 times. Like getting struck by lightning repeatedly.
I flipped open my textbook, lost in thought.
I wonder who the winner will be...