Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Unknown Athlete (3)
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May 2nd.
The sky was a clear blue, and the air was refreshingly crisp. Is this what the countryside is really like? Is this the kind of freshness you get in an undeveloped area? Even though he was a country boy himself, Jin-hyuk marveled at it all over again as he stretched. He applied steady pressure to every joint from his neck down to his ankles, rotating them thoroughly, and relaxed every muscle from his trapezius to his soleus.
The event name was ridiculously long. So long that the announcer had to pause for breath even now.
Teacher Kim Young-tae and the kids had plopped down on any chairs they could find. But there were no chairs—just bags. To cheer on Jin-hyuk, who had made it to the finals, up close, they'd tossed their bags down and were milling around near the finish line. It was a privilege reserved for coaches and athletes. Of course, they couldn't get too close.
"Teacher, shouldn't you be at the starting line?"
"Why...?"
Teacher Kim Young-tae blinked dumbly in response to Jo Sul-chan, who couldn't hold back his question.
"You gotta encourage the athletes, tell 'em to loosen up, say stuff like that to calm their nerves..."
Park Ji-beom, who was usually the mature one among his peers, smirked and finally chimed in, unable to resist.
"Hey, who's calming whose nerves? Teacher looks like he's about to cry."
"You little punks!"
Wahaha!
The teacher and his students, who had been together for so long, laughed it off, settling their trembling hearts. Finals, of all things. Even spectating was a first for them.
'Right, Ji-beom. Who's calming whose nerves?'
At the end of Teacher Kim Young-tae's gaze stood Son Jin-hyuk, tall and steady at the distant starting line.
*
Jin-hyuk pressed down firmly on the track with his front foot, testing it.
The solid track sent vibrations up through his calves, knees, thighs, and abs, straight to his heart.
'I'm a bit nervous.'
Having lived one life didn't make him immune to nerves. He hadn't experienced everything even in that life, and it had been a restricted one at that.
"Suuuuhhh... Hoooohhh..."
He breathed in deeply, making sure the sound carried.
From his lower abdomen, up through his solar plexus and heart to the crown of his head, power and exhilaration surged.
'Just run at a moderate pace.'
The official with the megaphone approached the start line to conduct the finals.
Jin-hyuk glanced at the official, then up at the sky, and at his friends and teacher waving fists near the finish line. He cracked a slight smile.
And behind them.
'Mom? Dad? Yu-jin?'
Whoop—he drew in a big breath.
Family.
He could spot them from afar. Because they were more precious than anything in the world. Because he'd resolved to live for them.
An indescribable emotion welled up in Jin-hyuk's chest.
It hit his throat hard.
Jin-hyuk hurriedly raised his hand toward the official to call a timeout.
"What's wrong? Taking too long?"
He couldn't answer right away.
Clearing his throat, he barely managed to explain.
"Ahem! No, something got in my shoe."
"Alright."
Jin-hyuk quickly kicked off his spikes and shook them out. As if anything could get in. It was an artificial synthetic track with no sand. The spikes fit perfectly, keeping out track grains. He just needed time to calm his swelling heart.
'That's definitely Mom and Dad. And my little sister Yu-jin.'
Something felt stuck in his eye, not his shoe. Humid—huff huff—he needed to steady his breathing. Uneven breaths from an overwhelming heart could throw off his run. And yet, he couldn't tear his eyes from his family.
What could he do about how happy he was after just two days apart?
His eyes warmed.
The corners of his mouth curved up on their own.
"What do we do? I think he saw us."
"Yeah. We should've picked a spot out of sight."
They'd just entered the stadium and grabbed seats there on impulse. Jin-hyuk's parents had sat anywhere when they heard the race was about to start. It seemed their son had spotted them. Had they burdened him?
But watching him adjust and take position eased their worries a bit.
"Our son is the handsomest, isn't he?"
"Haha! Of course. Whose son is he?"
Blue uniform top and bottom, white bib with black-marked 91.
Their precious son stood at the starting line alongside the province's top track athletes.
"What place do you think Jin-hyuk will get?"
"These are the best runners. Does the placing even matter?"
Han Yu-young nodded at her husband's words.
Her eyes were fixed on her son.
The faint call carried on the wind.
Jin-hyuk's mom, Han Yu-young, clasped her hands as if in prayer.
She could see her son crouched in lane 3.
Everyone held their breath.
Son Gwang-yeon tightened his arm around his daughter Yu-jin.
'Grades don't matter. Just don't get discouraged, our son.'
Yu-jin, for some excited reason, clapped at super speed.
"Oppa oppa oppa!"
As Yu-jin's cheers peaked, the gun rang out.
The gunshot signaling the start of the 200-meter final.
It was miraculous. The athletes seemed to burst out faster than the sound of the gun.
The son of Son Gwang-yeon and Han Yu-young.
The embodiment of love from their hottest, most passionate days.
Son Jin-hyuk exploded from the starting blocks like lightning.
In that instant, the young parents shot up like springs.
"Whoa whoa whoa whoa!"
"Oh my oh my!"
He was definitely their son.
But he didn't feel like their son.
The way he exploded off the blocks at the crack of the gun felt like...
Someone else's child.
Jin-hyuk's legs pounded the track like they were forged of steel, kicking up track grains with every stride. His shoulder and chest muscles boasted a sculptural beauty reminiscent of midsummer melons. And his form? It sliced through the air with the crisp, powerful dynamism of Olympians, leaving spectators desperate to pee.
Waaaah!
Thankfully, the race ended before anyone wet themselves.
The winner was decided all too easily.
When Jin-hyuk emerged from the curve, no one was around him.
"Kiyaaaaah!"
Son Gwang-yeon startled at the screams from behind and turned.
No way—their son took first, so why were those ladies going nuts?
Teacher Kim Young-tae and the friends rushed over.
Jin-hyuk, not even winded, draped arms around his friends' shoulders, patting backs as they shared the joy of victory.
"Wahaha! Jin-hyuk, you're freaking fast! Looked like a 20-meter gap on second place!"
"Hey, Jo Sul-chan! What's with 'freaking'? Watch your mouth, you brat!"
"Ah, Teacher!"
"Huh? Oh, whatever! Jin-hyuk did great! Great job!"
Just then, ladies who looked like Tae-yang Team athletes' moms were descending to the field. The announcement from the control booth seemed aimed at them. Men who appeared to be dads scolded and dragged their wives back up to the stands.
'Mom and Dad?'
Jin-hyuk glanced around briefly and spotted his family. His parents were decorously staying in the stands. They weren't even clapping amid the general applause. Were they not happy?
Looking closer, that wasn't it.
Mom was covering her mouth, tears streaming as she watched her son.
Dad was...
'Oh, Dad...'
Head bowed, shoulders heaving in sobs.
Jin-hyuk kicked off his spikes and climbed up to the stands.
"Oppa—, Oppa—."
He poked his nine-years-younger sister's cheek, then spread his arms wide to hug his parents.
"Don't cry. Why are you crying?"
Mom, eyes brimming, stroked her son's cheek.
Dad, unable to lift his head, pressed it to his son's stomach and patted his back.
"Euuuughhheung—."
Jin-hyuk, who could decipher Executive Director Hong Su-jeong's baby talk, couldn't make out a word his dad was saying.
Which child truly understands a parent's heart?
Which parent perfectly grasps a child's?
Besides, Jin-hyuk had no parents in his previous life, never married. He knew neither.
But.
'I'm so happy.'
He could tell they were crying from happiness.
So Jin-hyuk didn't cry.
He'd decided to smile a lot in this life.
*
Leaving his parents in pleasant chit-chat with the teacher, Jin-hyuk headed back to the track. Teacher Kim Young-tae had duties too, so after quick greetings with the parents, he followed soon after.
25.01 seconds.
Kim Young-tae tilted his head at the time.
For elementary kids doubling up in events, 200m times tend to exceed twice their 100m. They can't sustain early momentum. An issue of muscle power and stamina. Unlike middle schoolers and up.
'Still, that's too slow.'
Jin-hyuk's 100m was nearing 12.00 flat. Great build and power. So 200m should've been mid-24s at worst.
'The more I watch, the less sense he makes.'
Held back?
Or better on sand? No way.
Kim Young-tae almost asked but stopped.
He watched Jin-hyuk stretch, legs straight, bending at the waist.
A normal elementary kid laughing and chatting with friends. Odd he wasn't winded after 200m, but...
'Whatever... He'll handle it.'
*
High jump finals paused briefly for the 100m finals. Last track event before lunch.
Gunshot, and a 13-second showdown.
"Whoa! Jin-hyuk's three-peat champ!"
Yeom Byung-taek threw both arms up.
At the end of his gaze: Son Jin-hyuk accepting gold, not a hint of breathlessness. As everyone expected. Tae-yang Team parents and athletes could only cheer.
12.50.
Exactly half of the 200m time, sliced clean.
'Not intentional. But it turned out that way.'
Jin-hyuk noted several men who'd watched from the upper stands had vanished. Either Teacher Kim's ironclad defense, or they'd seen enough and would bide their time.
'Or better if they think that's my true potential.'
He couldn't read their minds, but he wanted to shield Teacher Kim from middle school recruiters' hassle. And settle debts.
He had no desire to stand out to coaches anyway.
He wanted an ordinary life.
Records aside, first is first. Two more golds around Jin-hyuk's neck.
After a long jump record fell as hoped, the recorder tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back.
Jo Sul-chan glanced around.
"Don't see those uncles anymore."
"Who?"
"Sunglasses guys—the ones who paid for dinner yesterday."
The baseball coaches who'd footed the bill to build ties were gone.
Kim Young-tae eyed Jin-hyuk suspiciously.
Nah, no way. A kid that young wouldn't calculate that far.
Soccer coaches in tracksuits still eyed eagerly.
Jin-hyuk's times and the coaches' departure? Pure coincidence.
'Even pro athletes can't throttle records like that.'
Playing with hundredths of seconds? Impossible.
In the stands, Lee Hae-dong puffed his cigarette and muttered.
"Hey, Bong-su. That 91 kid held back, right?"
"Dunno if he held back or what, but he didn't go all out."
Jeong Bong-su chewed his gum.
No elementary kid, no matter the build, takes 200m and 100m first with hands on hips, chest barely heaving. Fooling who?
'He didn't run.'
Probably for the relay.
Jeong Bong-su's eyes gleamed brighter.
Clever—prioritizing placement over records.
*
Truth was, only the pace was calculated.
First race in top condition, but in the 200m final, he couldn't go full throttle. Halfway down the straight, his left thigh felt heavy. He'd pushed early to take first, and no stiff competition helped.
'Thigh cramp—probably nutrition.'
Curves are left turns. Fine slow, but accelerating out fast tenses left thigh. Worse in inner lanes. Fatigue built overtaking on the curve. Never run 200m that hard before, so new issue.
He'd research preventing short-term muscle fatigue, boosting endurance. In his past life, banana and orange juice mix seemed to ease it.
'Track and field's fun.'
And seeing his parents' beaming faces post-finish filled him with joy. His clueless sister cheering "Oppa" made his heart tingle.
'Thrilling!'
Heh heh heh.