10
Chapter 10: Do You Think It’ll Work?
After finishing afternoon classes and returning to Happy Orphanage, the older elementary kids were taken aback to see
the younger ones clinging to them, showing off Min-Oh’s drawings.
“Don’t you want to live in a place like this?”
“Yeah!”
“How?”
Though they initially thought it sounded ridiculous, the idea of living in a place like the one in the drawing sparked a
strange sense of hope in them.
“Min-Oh said if we apply to that show, they’ll build us a house like this!”
“…Ha.”
The older kids let out short sighs, as if they had expected this.
“You really think that’ll work?”
Their tone, shaped by a life that had never given them more than what they could barely hold onto, poured cold water
over the younger kids’ excitement.
“Why wouldn’t it work? We just have to apply!”
“You think we’re the only ones? Even adults are begging for houses. Why would a TV crew come all the way out here?”
“They’ve never featured orphans before!”
The younger kids, who had barely experienced the world outside the orphanage, didn’t fully understand the weight of
being an orphan.
They repeated what Min-Oh had told them without hesitation, unknowingly hitting a sensitive spot.
“…Whatever. Do what you want.”
The older kids, who would have clenched their fists at kids their own age, were surprisingly lenient with the younger
ones.
“Then we’ll apply!”
“Do whatever you want!”
“TV really is scary.”
The older kids turned on the TV, acting indifferent.
“…But what if it actually works?”
One of them suddenly spoke with excitement.
“What do you mean what if? We just live in a house like that.”
“And go on TV too?”
“If I can live in a place like that, I’d go on TV a hundred times.”
Even the most cynical among them couldn’t hide his interest.
“…Still…”
“You’re already embarrassed. What’s a little more?”
“…That’s true.”
Not everyone had the courage to appear on TV.
“If you don’t want to be on TV, then don’t be.”
Min-Oh stepped in and solved their concern instantly.
“Even if only a few people appear, it’s enough. There are so many of us. I’m going on.”
“I will too!”
“Me too!”
There were dozens of kids in the orphanage.
Plenty to fill the screen.
“Then you don’t have to appear.”
“Really?”
“Watch the show. Sometimes parents appear without their kids.”
“…I guess.”
“So you agree to apply?”
“…Yeah. I guess. But will it work?”
“We just keep trying until it does.”
Min-Oh sat down casually, full of confidence.
“By the way, what kind of house do you want?”
“…What?”
“This is the house I want. Yours might be different.”
“…Will they even build that?”
“Whether they do or not, we can ask.”
“Then I want a basketball hoop!”
“A soccer field!”
“A big bath!”
“A treehouse!”
“A playground!”
“A fountain!”
The kids began sharing their dream homes.
“And you?”
“…I just want that stupid orphanage sign gone.”
“That won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Then the government won’t fund the place.”
“…Tch.”
“Anyway, I’ll send it.”
“…Wait, what are you doing?”
“Drawing.”
“You’re sending that to the TV station?”
“They need a reason to come all the way here.”
“With all that stuff you’re asking for?”
“It’s not about asking for everything. It’s about showing what’s possible.”
“…Do whatever you want.”
Lee Hyungwoo, a sixth grader, scoffed and flipped through channels.
‘But… what if it actually works?’
Though he acted uninterested, he couldn’t stop checking the show’s channel.
Then suddenly—
“Use it or don’t.”
He brought out his paint set and placed it on the table before leaving.
Min-Oh smirked.
‘So you want a better place too.’
Later—
“When are you sending it?”
Hyunseung asked eagerly.
“Wait a bit. The drawing isn’t done yet.”
“Do you really need the drawing?”
“It’s better if it works in one go.”
“…What do you mean?”
“There’s a trick to it.”
‘Life is about impact.’
A simple drawing wasn’t enough.
The program already had a backlog of stories.
He needed something more.
“Tell me!”
“Later. For now, I need to go to the competition.”
“Oh right!”
“I’ll see you later.”
Min-Oh left—but soon returned.
He walked up to Han Songyi.
“You’re not entering?”
“…Huh?”
“The art contest.”
“…No.”
She had placed first before.
Now, she didn’t want to lose.
“Then someone else will get second.”
“…What?”
Second place wasn’t low.
But to her, it was.
“I thought I should feel bad, but I guess I don’t need to.”
“…What?”
“I’m the best eight-year-old artist in the world. Even eight-year-old Picasso wouldn’t beat me. Losing to me isn’t
embarrassing.”
“…Stop showing off.”
“You were showing off too.”
“I was?”
“You’re avoiding it because you don’t want second place. Or was your last win just luck?”
“It wasn’t!”
“Then join next time.”
To Min-Oh, art was something he had picked up by chance.
Talent, training, and time had all shaped him.
But in his previous life, he had given it up.
Studying and working had mattered more.
Now—
He wanted others to keep going.
Meanwhile—
“The participation is lower than last time.”
Teachers were concerned.
Min-Oh’s overwhelming talent had discouraged others.
“We raised the level of first place… but lowered everything else.”
“What about writing contests?”
“…Same issue.”
“Should we limit participation?”
“That would reduce workload.”
“No.”
The vice principal spoke firmly.
“We shouldn’t choose only the best.”
“…What?”
“These competitions aren’t just about skill. They’re about building courage.”
The teachers fell silent.
“A strong first place and weaker others isn’t bad. It motivates them.”
“…I see.”
“But for academic contests—”
“You think gifted means only grades?”
“…No…”
“They’re children. Courage matters more than ability.”
He continued.
“Let them try. That’s our role.”
The room quieted.
“And don’t misunderstand. Even if they join gifted classes, they’ll still go to academies. Kids don’t love studying more
than playing.”
“…Yes.”
“So focus on those who want to try.”
The meeting ended with a clear message.
Opportunity mattered more than perfection.