Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: The Tycoon's Son (2)
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“Our class president Jin-hyuk got perfect scores across all subjects on the midterm exams this semester too. How about we give him a big round of applause?”
Clap clap clap.
A familiar, all-too-familiar situation. Though he half-expected it, Jin-hyuk had no desire to come off as cocky, so he stood from his seat and bowed to the teacher and his classmates in thanks. His face remained as expressionless as ever.
Was the sight that intimidating? The teacher and friends flinched.
Chae Gyu-ho had claimed the seat next to Jin-hyuk. It was a far cry from the start of the semester, when he'd been forced into the role by the other kids shoving him around.
“Class prez, can you explain what this says?”
He was a kid with a real thirst for knowledge, but he'd confessed that Jin-hyuk's tutoring stuck with him better than regular classes. Jin-hyuk was more than happy to help his friends study. He was already teaching Shin Woo-seong and Lee Seung-hoon anyway—just one more desk to pull up.
Jin-hyuk was living the same ordinary life as any other rural middle schooler.
My legs... my legs are numb.
During breaks, he'd go for walks or bet his friends on who could do more pull-ups. At lunch, they'd play soccer. Exercise really was the best.
Is it hormones? My body's just itching for it.
He'd sneak peeks at the dirty magazines other kids brought, but the one from his cousin in Japan really caught his eye.
“Here, prez. Take it.”
Maybe his gaze had burned too hot—the friend tore out a page, vividly printed in color on glossy paper, and handed it over. A bribe to stay on good terms.
“Nah, I'm good.”
He took one last lingering look at the model's dizzying curves before turning it down.
It was a tough call. His eyes followed the retreating photo.
Keeps popping into my head.
Jin-hyuk's house was too far from school for him to attend the cram schools most of his friends went to for math and English. He'd never even been near one in his previous life, and besides, he didn't need them. He'd always been a top student, so the teachers didn't force him into evening self-study either. Thinking back, it was funny... and weird.
Self-study?
It was called self-study, but they took attendance, and if you were late or skipped, you'd get reamed out. What a strange world. Not that he had any urge to complain about it.
As long as I don't get in trouble, who cares.
Like that, Jin-hyuk was starting to settle into the world.
He put even more effort into tutoring Shin Woo-seong and Lee Seung-hoon than before. The boys were initially wary of Jin-hyuk, who scared even the wrestling club captain, but true to their good natures, they adapted quickly. Fear alone sharpened their focus, and they seemed to be scoring even better than Jin-hyuk remembered from the past.
Shin Woo-seong mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
“Prez, we gotta head to practice.”
“Yeah. Be careful not to get hurt.”
Tournament season had the pair swamped, so Jin-hyuk couldn't hang out with his old friends as much. It was a shame, but there was nothing he could do. Even back then, they hadn't spent all day glued together.
Their minds just synced up, complementing each other perfectly—that's why they stayed friends despite not meeting often.
Peaceful.
This new routine felt like a gift, a reward.
【You've been through a lot. Time to send you back······】
Or whatever it had said.
Part of it was surely that voice, speaking straight into his eardrums. Even though he'd heard it in a dream, recalling it made his skull vibrate.
Whatever.
Let it flow peacefully, quietly like this.
But history, once prodded by someone, has a way of veering off course in unexpected places. Jin-hyuk kept that possibility in mind, so his heart wasn't entirely at ease.
He might have steeled himself for it, but facing it was another matter.
He'd just finished his morning workout and was heading to the classroom.
Oh, crap...
Jin-hyuk ducked behind the building and took a deep breath.
He'd spotted Hwang Ga-young on her way to school.
He needed a moment to calm his pounding heart. The soul-brand seared by her wasn't something that faded easily.
Whew, that scared me. Are we done with that family now?
The future had changed—did that mean he'd never cross paths with them again?
Someone might call it dwelling on the past, but it was a big deal to Jin-hyuk.
People who triggered his PTSD outright. In his past life, he'd sent them packing spectacularly, but even then, it hadn't been entirely intentional.
···
In college, Jin-hyuk passed the judicial exam but skipped the interview. His uncle, who'd borrowed money everywhere using Jin-hyuk's success as collateral, ended up stabbed to death by debt collectors. His aunt and cousins vanished without a trace.
Jin-hyuk knew he had a serious disqualifier for the judicial interview.
Guilt by association.
An abolished system, or so they said—but he couldn't be sure. It wasn't distrust of the country; it was the sheer mental trauma he'd endured. His aunt always had “commie” on her lips, calling Jin-hyuk the commie spawn. The backstory she'd blabbed about went like this.
Kim Eung-nyeo, his aunt—mom's half-sister, different surnames as expected. Not just half; different fathers too. Jin-hyuk's maternal grandfather, Han Ho, was a local bigwig in the countryside. Unable to have kids with his first wife, he'd taken a widow with one daughter as a second wife. The old-fashioned craving for a son, nothing else explained it.
They say it was common back then, so I can't really blame him.
But the second wife bore no children, while the first—Jin-hyuk's maternal grandmother—gave birth to Han Yu-young, Jin-hyuk's mom. The grandfather doted on his daughter from the first wife, even sending her to high school. Then one day, suits and cops stormed their quiet home, hauling him off while yelling about a “public use chair” or some nonsense. That was the year Jin-hyuk's mom turned eighteen.
That was all Jin-hyuk had heard from Kim Eung-nyeo in his past life.
So she'd hurled “commie spawn” at him without hesitation. What era was this, calling a descendant two generations removed a commie?
Ignorance has no cure.
He could have passed the interview, but who knew if people would play fair? Interviewers were human too—they might lump him in with guilt by association and fail him. Truth be told, Jin-hyuk had no burning desire to be a civil servant anyway.
He'd just leveraged his talents in the most practical way to stand on his own.
My aptitude test said prosecutor...
Simple as that.
In a way, skipping the interview let him meet Hong Gi-jun in the past life, ride in his car, and end up here. A good call in the end, right?
That was the terror of stream-of-consciousness—spotting Hwang Ga-young sparked memories of Kim Eung-nyeo's family, leading him to piece together the chain of events that brought him back. Kinda funny, in a way. But there was some payoff.
Maybe I'll never have to see them again.
For Jin-hyuk, still trembling at the thought, it was a hopeful prospect. As long as he avoided the massage parlors, he'd never run into them.
Good riddance to Kim Eung-nyeo, but now weirdos were sniffing around the school.
“Come on, just let us see the kid once!”
“One throwing test—that's all we ask!”
Korea's web of connections—school ties, regional bonds, blood relations. The word bred resentment in listeners due to its ills, but for those with the network, it was a handy tool. Academy sports reps with lines to the athletics record committee and track federation came rushing in.
“This is a democracy—why block us from the school?”
“I went to this school too!”
“I-I'm from the 70th graduating class heeere!”
Putting aside their accents, Tae-yang Middle School had opened during the Korean War—barely over 40 years of history.
They dressed it up as scouting visits for player selection and prospect hunting, but really, they wanted face time with the elementary record holder for 100m and 200m. The kid's parents had stonewalled them, forcing the school visit.
The security guards had no peace. They even joked about parking a tank on the grounds.
Eventually, Lee Byung-se brought it up at the staff meeting.
“Principal, maybe we could persuade the student just once...”
“Mr. Lee. The kid made it crystal clear he doesn't want to. As a teacher, how can you not protect the student and say something like that?”
Lee Byung-se tilted his head.
The principal hadn't been like this before. Suddenly all about student rights.
They said there was some big human rights investigation recently— is that why?
Academy sports folks had faced massive probes, some even arrested. It hit nationwide, targeting coaches taking bribes or using excessive violence.
The wrestling coach and assistant got the axe then too.
Plenty of regular PE teachers—not specialized coaches—had breathed relief. Lee Byung-se among them.
“Still, if they keep coming, it'll disrupt the study atmosphere...”
Study atmosphere my foot. Truth was, Lee Byung-se was curious too. I wanna see the kid tested! But he couldn't say that. As he scrambled for words, the principal's sharp voice cut in.
“You know how much it costs to run the track team, right? Equipment, uniforms, meals, snacks—the works.”
“Ah... yes.”
Money talk made Lee Byung-se shrink.
Tae-yang Middle was a rural public school. No fat private foundation like fancy privates, no eager rich parents like in the cities. Squeezing the budget dry barely covered one sports team.
The wrestling team ran on tradition and alumni donations, sure—but track with sprints and marathons needed separate funds. Money was Lee Byung-se's Achilles' heel, with no medals to show.
“Admin chief, explain it to Mr. Lee.”
“Yes, sir.”
Why pass the mic to admin now?
Lee Byung-se shot aggrieved looks between principal and admin.
“The track team's funding comes from sponsorship by Son Jin-hyuk's parents. I was shocked too—the kid's not even officially on the team, and they inquire about donating. Turns out they're sponsoring Tae-yang Elementary through Teacher Kim Young-tae too. And their son went to a different rural school.”
Lee Byung-se's jaw dropped.
The wrestling coach gaped too. The kid who biked to school first, worked out, then rushed home for his baby sister—they'd thought he delivered evening papers or something. And his folks were loaded?
The principal narrowed his eyes at Lee Byung-se.
“Not sure if the rumors are true, but they say that family owns over ten percent of Tae-yang County's land. Don't ruffle their feathers. Even the county governor stamps his face there every holiday. Last local election, candidates lined up at their door.”
“Yes, I've heard. They sponsored the sports day vehicles and snack trucks too.”
The admin chief added.
“And it must never reach Jin-hyuk's ears. The father said sponsorship ends the instant his son finds out.”
What did that mean? If the son saw it as pressure to join sports, it'd burden him—that kinda thing.
“Understood.”
Even dense Lee Byung-se got the message loud and clear.
Don't stress my son. Warning from a local magnate.
Gulp.
Lee Byung-se swallowed dryly. Vowing to lead the charge against school invaders.
The admin chief turned to Seong Bu-hyeon.
“They're sponsoring wrestling expenses too. New training hall? Paid by the student's father. Top secret.”
“Yes, sir!”
Seong Bu-hyeon vowed too.
The admin wasn't done.
“Teachers' dinners, field trip costs—major sponsorship there too.”
The other teachers sat up straight.
Money rules all.
Was Jin-hyuk a late child?
Rural tycoons were usually older. Spoiling their precious late son, maybe? Lee Byung-se pictured Jin-hyuk's dad as a white-haired geezer and quietly closed his notebook.
In the wrestling hall, Son Gwang-yeon irritably scratched his ear while brushing General's fur.
One eye squinted tight.
“Damn—it's itchy. Did a flea get in?”
“Ehehe, Dad ate a flea!”
Cackle.
Yu-jin, stabbing the sand pit with her trowel, pointed and laughed at her dad.
Han Yu-young emerged with a tray of coffee.
“Honey, the school called. They want to give you a plaque of appreciation.”
“Aw, what for?”
We didn't spend a dime of our own. Son Gwang-yeon swallowed the rest.
Always the dignified Seoul man in front of his wife. What he'd done? Maybe squeezed friends for their son—top secret manly stuff. He'd clamped down on Hong Gi-jun's mouth too.
That punk sends cheerleaders but doesn't give a heads-up.
Jin-hyuk must've seen it. Lucky.
Must've been nice.