Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Out into the World (3)
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"Mom, Dad."
"Yeah? What's up, son?"
Mom, who had been feeding four-year-old Yu-jin her meal, and Dad, who had been smiling at his daughter, both turned to Jin-hyuk in surprise. Ever since the pork cutlet incident that sparked the seven-day war, their son rarely spoke up first.
"I've got a meet next week, so I'm heading to Tae-yang Middle School."
"Why? Another academic contest?"
Dad, Son Gwang-yeon, asked, already picturing another trophy shelf addition.
Their son excelled in every subject—math, science, art, music, even computers—sweeping awards at every competition. Jin-hyuk's parents had long since stopped worrying about the outcomes; they were only curious about which event he'd entered.
"It's a track meet."
"Hahaha!"
Dad burst into laughter out of nowhere.
Wasn't this going too far? Math and science weren't enough, nor were art and music—now track and field? Of all things.
But he was thrilled.
"That's my boy!"
"Hehe, he must take after you, honey. Good at everything."
Mom always put Dad first, it seemed. Even now, she slipped in a compliment for her husband. Gazing at their son—who at thirteen already matched Mom's height—Jin-hyuk's parents basked in happiness.
"Alright, anything you need?"
That's why I called you over, Dad.
Dad seemed to read Jin-hyuk's mind, as always.
"Sneakers."
"Oh, right. You'll need spikes, huh?"
Son Gwang-yeon was a man of common sense and knowledge. He knew what shoes were best for short-distance track on dirt. No way he'd deny his precious son—tall now, but still the apple of his eye—a pair from the shoe store.
"Nah, nothing that fancy. My current ones slip a bit on the sand."
He wasn't a pro athlete; spikes seemed overkill. Even during the timed runs with Teacher Kim Young-tae, he'd felt a slight slide with every step. He just hated that uneasy feeling and wanted better grip for the meet. Might as well go all out without regrets.
"Got it. Let's go shopping tomorrow, just you and me. Asics or Lafuma these days?"
For some reason, Dad seemed more excited than Jin-hyuk. Is this what being a parent feels like? Jin-hyuk wondered. He hadn't experienced it in his previous life, so he couldn't even guess.
Still.
Dad's so happy... makes me happy too.
If it were soccer or baseball, would they have stopped him over injury risks? Sure, no such clubs nearby, but Jin-hyuk was curious about their take.
If they like me doing sports, maybe I should try wrestling.
Tae-yang County was famous for it.
Tae-yang Elementary School in the county seat.
"Teacher Kim Young-tae, tomorrow's the county track team selection, right?"
"Yes, Vice Principal."
"Marathon rep's already from our school, and sprints too, I bet?"
The coastal region sprawled wide, dotted with schools and branches everywhere, but most folks lived clustered in the county seat. Naturally, Tae-yang Elementary had the biggest student body. More kids meant more talent potential. More chances to produce star athletes.
"We should get at least one."
Short-distance sent two per district, selected purely by times. No judges' whims, no school influence. No special picks for your own kids.
"Just one? Why? Some other school got standouts?"
Kim Young-tae handed over the record sheet. Sixteen runners in the county finals. Sorted by 100m times, and the top name looked familiar.
"Son Jin-hyuk?"
The vice principal—forehead gleaming, eyes narrow like a cartoon villain—scrunched his brow.
"Son Jin-hyuk? The academic contest kid?"
"Yes, that's him."
"What? Twelve-point-something? That's middle school level!"
The brow-less vice principal bellowed like a cartoon baddie. Kim Young-tae muttered irritably under his breath, but quietly. Not easy even for middle schoolers.
He disliked the man's habit of blurting nonsense to deny reality, but hey, boss was boss. No backtalk.
"Timed him twice."
Kim Young-tae replied curtly, done explaining.
"Track too short?"
"Checked again after. Full 100 meters. Field's pretty big."
Rural schools had land to spare, just not people. Big fields came with it. A few calves wandered one corner.
Kim Young-tae double-checked Jin-hyuk's time. Written in his own hand, yet his brain rebelled.
12.12
Pro-level on a proper track with spikes. National meets, even.
"Ours tomorrow?"
"Tae-yang Middle School."
County finals for elementary ran same day, same place as middle schoolers. No deeper reason—just easier to batch them. Convenience over kids' conditions. Admin life.
The vice principal smacked his lips in regret.
He wanted to see this academic monster kid run in person.
Principal tried hard to transfer him in.
Scouting elementary kids? Sure, but scores were school scores. Piles of contest wins changed the education office's view. Fame drew students, students drew funds. Look at the wrestling team. Everything hinged on grades and recruitment stats.
Anyway, Tae-yang Elementary's transfer plan flopped.
Kid said no. Parents deferred to him, stonewalled.
Tae-yang Elementary went three years without top academic awards. All swept by one kid from podunk Eo-dong Elementary.
The sharp-eyed vice principal muttered, piercing Jin-hyuk's truth.
"Monster kid..."
It was spring, for sure. Sky so blue you'd swear it was fall. Plane trees already boasting leaves the size of a grown man's head. Jin-hyuk's favorite from his old life. Those mighty trunks always shaded him, letting him live like a shadow, unseen.
Tae-yang Middle School's field gleamed, freshly prepped for the sports festival. Still sand, though.
Jin-hyuk paced the wrestling club's corner.
Right around here.
Where he'd sit on tires reading during festivals.
Picnics or trips, he'd yank wrestling training tubes alone.
The swing where he'd kill lunch hours swayed in the spring breeze.
There sat middle-school Jin-hyuk—smaller than his current thirteen-year-old self. Blank face on the swing.
Jin-hyuk gripped the ropes gently. Pulled back slow, let go.
Middle-school Jin-hyuk whipped around, startled.
That face—bruises blue, scrapes raw—made current Jin-hyuk feel the scar-knob on his heart.
How scared were you back then? How lonely, how hungry? Huh, Jin-hyuk?
Happy now, family back—lifelong dream.
Wounds heal, but soul scars linger?
Jin-hyuk sat still on the swing where his past self had been and vanished.
Folks say look ahead.
Others: reflect back to grow.
No right answer, didn't matter. Jin-hyuk figured pure forward-drive was for wild beasts snared in traps. Instincts blind to the noose, tightening their own throats. Sad, foolish fate.
Without those memories, couldn't save Mom, Dad, Yu-jin. General'd be gone too.
Like an idiot, blank slate, repeating nightmares.
Can't force-forget past when present satisfies. Jin-hyuk chose to chew on old scrapes, even if they stung. Rubbed his chest gently, comforting old Jin-hyuk.
You're the scar I own.
You were me.
Growth spurt years, but hungry days aplenty. That's why he'd lurk by the wrestling club—they ordered meat after evening practice. Join up, get some beef. That's what he craved.
Rejected, of course.
- "You're too scrawny. No grit."
Not just that.
Parent sponsors. School and district funds weren't enough. Tae-yang Middle's famed wrestling drew transfers from Gangwon and Jeju—parents' donations flowed fat. Coaches pocketed enough for luxury cars. They saw zero sponsorship potential in Jin-hyuk.
Sin Woo-seong's from the butcher shop, Lee Seung-hoon's fisherman's co-op boss kid.
Pals who'd raise the school's name via wrestling last life. Barring twists, he'd see them in middle school next year.
Sports slacked their studies; Jin-hyuk tutored heavy. Friendless, they shielded him like a screen. Shared club snacks too. Kept the bond post-graduation.
Middle school next year. Heart raced at reuniting—not just old memories. Grief long shoved aside since saving his parents.
Fuss fuss.
"Hey, Son Jin-hyuk. Don't tense up, yeah? Gun goes bang, you bolt. Got it?"
"Yes."
Chaperone Teacher Park Jae-seung tucked Jin-hyuk's shirt into his shorts like a dad with a snot-nosed kid. Jin-hyuk chuckled.
Boys' sports festival entry.
Prelims only, but first ever for Eo-dong Elementary. No wonder Park Jae-seung was edgy. Voice shaky, but Jin-hyuk answered firm, heading to staging.
"Heat 3, ready."
Sixteen kids, four heats of four.
Top four from prelims advance; 30-min break, then finals. Final four auto-qualify: two for sprints, two for relays.
Pink shorts and uniform from school felt weird.
Jin-hyuk loosened the taut-tucked shirt a bit, watched front heat's start poses closely.
Ah, yeah. Lean forward, weight up front.
Sports fan last life—loved highlight reels. Gun crack, horses thundering: black and white sprinters' explosive power, thighs like bombs, shoulders pumped huge. Obsessed, trained hard.
"Heat 4, ready."
Not pro track, but Jin-hyuk felt like an Olympian. Empty concrete stands turned stadium; cheers echoed from packed crowds.
"On your marks."
Adjusted blocks to his fit from watching, like front heat. Hands spread on line. Sand grains pricked knees—ignore.
Kids glanced sideways.
Jin-hyuk met eyes, nodded hello. Kid startled by his deep gaze, nodded back silent.
Ready—next signal.
"Set."
Legs shot straight.
Torso pitched forward.
Stadium hushed.
Not nervous.
Gulp.
Heart oddly pounded.
Inhale... hold two-thirds out.
Soon, the gun.
"Heads down."
Someone peeked.
Common for rule-rookie kids. Jin-hyuk resisted peeking too—no judgment.
"Set."
False start—reset.
Inhale.
Dead silence, air stilled.
Crack!
Paper cap pierced the quiet.