Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Nameless Athlete
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The one who shouted was the referee.
"Six meters seventeen."
The recorder called out Jin-hyuk's record once more.
Ooooh-.
The crowd's murmurs turned into gasps of admiration.
"Isn't six meters a first?"
"Last year's record didn't even hit six meters, right?"
"So close. If it were nationals..."
The referee beckoned to someone, and a man in a white baseball cap came running over, pressing down on his hat with one hand.
After double-checking the landing spot, the man in the white cap declared it like an official announcement.
"Reference record confirmed. Men's long jump: six meters seventeen centimeters. Six hundred twenty-seven centimeters. Taeyang Team, number 91. New Korean record for the boys' division. Per competition rules, recognized only as a reference record."
Jin-hyuk's expression went blank.
'What?'
A record, even unofficial.
What had the previous one been? Before Jin-hyuk could even process it, the crowd surged forward.
Waaah-!
Clap clap clap-!
No sooner had the record keeper finished than those around burst into applause and cheers.
"Congrats!"
"Congratulations!"
"Knew you could do it!"
Strangers. People he'd never exchanged a word with. Yet so many patted his shoulders, his back. Some ruffled his hair, others slapped his butt. Among the well-wishers were athletes Jin-hyuk had been sizing up as targets.
'Ah, I miss Mom.'
So this is what it feels like to be acknowledged, to draw attention.
The record didn't matter. Whether the last attempt counted didn't matter. Strangers seeing him, smiling at him, applauding him—that was enough.
'Thank you.'
Jin-hyuk couldn't bring himself to say it, just bowed his head repeatedly in thanks. If he opened his mouth, if their eyes met, he might burst into tears. He bit his lips tight. The man who'd endured that hellish previous life without shedding a tear couldn't cry here.
Then Jin-hyuk's body floated up.
"Whoa! You rascal! Knew you had it in you! Hahahaha!"
Teacher Kim Young-tae hoisted Jin-hyuk up by the legs.
Taeyang Elementary School's first-ever track and field gold in long jump since its founding. Eighty-five years after opening. Taeyang Elementary was Kim Young-tae's alma mater too. His mind swirled with the glory of being the first.
But what now?
Son Jin-hyuk was from another school.
***
Ahead of the relay semifinals, the 200-meter semifinals began.
Bang-!
Son Jin-hyuk shot out of the starting blocks like a bullet.
Kim Young-tae clenched his fist, then pumped his arm wildly.
'A guy like that stuck out in the sticks!'
Where the hell had he been hiding? He wanted to yell "Wak-!" but held back for adult dignity—until he couldn't anymore.
"Whoaaaa! Run! Run!"
Jin-hyuk, starting in lane 2, led through the curve and charged the straightaway. Like a wild colt unleashed but galloping straight, no bucking.
'Don't stand out too much.'
Power overflowing, yet cool-headed colt.
Whoop-whoop, whoop-whoop.
Unlike the 100-meter, the curve was the difference.
Treating the curve like a highway on-ramp, building momentum steadily, then flooring it on the straight. Though he'd been accelerating on the curve too, of course.
'Feels great!'
Different thrill from pounding pavement roads.
True freedom rediscovered.
He crossed the finish line first in his heat.
And eased off speed just before the line.
Kim Young-tae recalled their talk at that moment. After the long jump awards.
- "Teacher, does ranking matter in this meet?"
- "Yeah. All records go in as references. Only national-level meets count as official."
Maybe that's why—Jin-hyuk seemed unconcerned with records.
"Looked like you slowed at the end?"
"You told me to pace myself."
"Right, right. Heh heh!"
Kim Young-tae ended up crunching emergency fund numbers in his head.
200-meter finals tomorrow.
"Think you can run relay?"
"Yes! Feels like I'm loosened up—should run even better."
Reliable kid.
Jin-hyuk looked flushed, excited. Talking more too. Kim Young-tae, who'd coached kids for years, knew that face: starting to enjoy it.
'You rascal, having fun, huh.'
Now it was Park Ji-beom's turn.
Park Ji-beom had just missed out in 100-meter semis.
'200's even tougher.'
Three years specializing in 100, ended with nothing.
Kim Young-tae quietly cheered his disciple's final race, sensing the disappointment.
Bang-!
True to Taeyang Elementary's ace, Park Ji-beom confidently took the curve in lane 4. Even from there, ahead of others—hinting he led. But on the straight, rivals caught up.
"Huh? Ji-beom hurt?"
"Nah, don't look limpin'."
No limp, but speed wouldn't build.
What's wrong?
Park Ji-beom crossed last but returned light-hearted.
"Ji-beom, you okay?"
"Yep? Just warmed up before relay. Full sprints in the second half are killer."
Relay in 30 minutes. Saving energy for teammates. Kim Young-tae wrinkled his nose to hold back emotion. These kids—such troopers.
Sunset neared; gray mixed into the blue sky.
***
"I lounged and ate all day—energy overflowing!"
"Me too."
Amid Yeom Byeong-taek and Jo Seol-chan's cheeky chatter, they warmed up in good spirits. Jin-hyuk relaxed among them, massaging his legs. Using grip strength, he kneaded friends' legs too. Short time, but friends who'd trained, laughed, sweated together. Hoped they'd laugh to the end.
Park Ji-beom's eyes went wide.
"Whoa—Jin-hyuk's touch fixed my thigh and calf aches. Legs feel stronger too."
"You too? Me too!"
Jo Seol-chan, rested all day, chimed in playfully.
Kim Young-tae was glad Taeyang kids were in the second semifinal heat. Gave Jin-hyuk and Park Ji-beom more rest.
But weird.
Dark-suited men lurking around him lately.
"Warm up. Teacher's grabbing his notepad quick."
"Yes."
Innocent replies from the kids. But Jin-hyuk narrowed his eyes, following Kim Young-tae's gaze.
'Notepad's already in your hand.'
Jin-hyuk massaged his knees, ear tuned to Kim Young-tae and the men's talk.
***
"Aigoo! How'd that happen?!"
Jo Seol-chan couldn't hide his regret.
First heat relay: another school's runner dropped the baton. Happened in a flash during pass. Picked it up quick, but others had pulled away.
"Weren't they the fastest school?"
"Yeah, Daesung Elementary."
"Aigoo, so close."
Chatting like bystanders, but Jo Seol-chan and Yeom Byeong-taek were tense. Shallow breaths, knees bouncing—clear signs.
Jo Seol-chan most of all.
"Aigoo, damn. Why'm I gotta pee so bad?"
"No time for the john! Piss while you run!"
Yeom Byeong-taek's quip broke the tension; kids laughed.
"Just like practice. No mistakes, we win."
Clap clap-!
Kim Young-tae clapped for attention.
"Alright! Chant and go!"
"School name different—what we say?"
Jo Seol-chan's sharp question, or so he thought.
"Just Taeyang. We'll meet in middle school soon."
"Eee, yeah. Jin-hyuk's always this smart."
One big hand, Jin-hyuk's medium, three small ones.
Five hands stacked.
"Taeyang! Taeyang! Fighting!"
Clap clap clap-!
Hands raised high, clapped, kids headed to track.
"Whew—I'm shaking."
Slap slap-clap clap-!
Kim Young-tae rubbed his face, patted cheeks. Coaches tense more than athletes, families more than coaches. To him, these kids were like his own.
'Scores don't matter—just come back unscathed, my kids.'
Unaware of their teacher's heart, kids entered lanes.
"First legs, grab a baton each—hey, lane 7! Why empty-handed?"
Park Ji-beom.
Despite practice, first legs forgetting batons—common slip.
Red and yellow taken; oddly, blue left. Relay superstition favored primaries—visible. Not like reading colors blind.
'O! Lucky!'
Park Ji-beom grabbed the lone blue, thinking fortune smiled. Unaware prior heat's fumbler used blue; others dodged it.
Relay jinx.
Drop once, drop again. Nonsense, but humans fear the unseen.
Others eyed him, but Park ignored. Ignorance bliss.
'Just finish clean.'
Running 200 like warmup for relay showed maturity beyond years. Record struggles in 6th grade, but Taeyang ace since 4th.
"On your marks—."
Baton tight in left, fist to ground.
Tense cheeks puffed.
"Set—."
Legs straight, hips up.
Too tense? Blood rushed head.
Bang-!
Clink-! Clang-.
First legs gone; metal rattled irritably.
***
"Mommy-, Mommy-."
"Yes-, Mommy's here."
"Daddy-, Daddy-."
"Aiko-, my princess-."
Yu-jin, not yet three, toddled house-wide, alternating hugs. Spacious build—no worry. Dad Gwang-yeon thought expansion perfect, but regretted not doing it when Jin-hyuk was little—times tough. Made him dote more.
'Acting so grown already...'
After school, hangs laundry, cleans, dotes on baby sis. Still tags to fields, works, gyms. Homework flawless. Seoul kids play Legos, RC cars.
'When's our boy back?'
Failed kid-like growth, proper spoiling—seemed mature. Thus, more tender. Gwang-yeon grew without dad's love too.
"Jin-hyuk's mom, honey. No call from our boy?"
Just "arrived safe" yesterday eve, "slept well" morning. Meet one day; call after. Dinner time—no word. Teacher said one day only.
Ring ring-.
'My kid's something,' Gwang-yeon thought, picking up.
"Hello? Oh—Jin-hyuk! Yeah? Really? Hahaha! What in the world? Yeah, yeah. Got it. Mom? Washing hair. Yeah, I'll tell her. Eat well. Sleep good, son-."
Click-.
Gwang-yeon's face beamed gentle, relaxed. Eyes dazed. Words hadn't sunk in. Then snapped to.
'What? Gold medal?'
Local, but top provincial. Some absentees, sure. But gold! And Korean record? Unofficial my foot—our boy's record!
"Lemme see, what now? What do ya do?"
Yay?
Our guy'd glare.
Gwang-yeon scooped wide-eyed Yu-jin, flailed.
Too loud on call; her big eyes huger.
"What to do, what??"
Dad when son wins gold? No one to ask—panic. Dad club for medal dads? Here, just fertilizer tips.
'Ask Gi-jun?'
Brag too.
Gwang-yeon grabbed receiver.
"Gi-jun? Hahaha, our son!"
- Ears hurt, man!
Blab blab-.
"Hopes it stays quiet. Worried 'bout fame."
- Provincial win ain't fame. Relax.
"Haha! Like me—humble!"
Gi-jun reality-checked; Gwang-yeon unphased.
Brag-fest—son or self? Till wife emerged.
"Oppa, Jin-hyuk called? Why the face?"
Yu-young, towel-turbaned from bath, eyes wide. Hubby, Seoul stoic—now flushed gossiping.
Clunk-.
Saw white towel—dropped receiver. Jumped up, yelled like it hit him.
"Banner!"
"Huh?"
Gwang-yeon grabbed wife's hand, Yu-jin in arm, danced.
Elssi gouna johguna-.
Thus.
Hong Gi-jun lost again.
- Hello? Hell—ya bastard-!