The Flawless Finish: Hwang Young-ho Crosses First, Washing Away 56 Years of Resentment
The moment Hwang Young-ho crossed the finish line first in flawless triumph. The grudge built up over 56 years would finally be resolved. Just imagining that historic moment swelled the heart with emotion.
But getting lost in sentiment was dangerous. Min-ho calmly reminded himself once more of the purpose of coming here. Sponsoring Hwang Young-ho was all about publicizing the JK Group name to the world and reaping economic benefits.
Having greeted the Barcelona morning, Min-ho finished his preparations and headed to Chairman Kang's room with his report in hand.
"Grandfather, it's Min-ho."
He knocked carefully, but there was no sign of movement inside. He checked the time. Back in Korea, the chairman would have already finished his morning hike and returned by now.
He knocked again, but still no response. He tried the handle, but the door was locked tight. Just as he was feeling perplexed, Moon Sang-oh came hurrying from the end of the corridor.
"Young master, is something wrong?"
"It's well past his usual wake-up time, but there's no sound."
Moon Sang-oh tilted his head and knocked firmly on the door.
"Chairman, it's Moon Sang-oh. Chairman!"
The chairman would jolt awake at the slightest noise even in sleep. Moon Sang-oh seemed worried too.
"He specifically told us to come at this time. He should have been up long ago."
"Something feels off."
"I'll go down to the lobby and get the master key."
"Yes, please do."
Min-ho suppressed his rising anxiety and kept knocking.
"Grandfather! Grandfather!"
The security team and hotel staff rushed over, but none of them had seen Chairman Kang leave the room. He was definitely inside. Worst-case scenarios flooded Min-ho's mind. Unexpected things could happen anytime, but Chairman Kang couldn't collapse yet.
Min-ho pounded on the door loudly, then pressed his ear against it. Still no sound. Only the direst possibilities circled in his head. In desperation, he began ramming the door with his shoulder. The thick hotel door wouldn't budge. His shoulder throbbed, but he barely noticed.
Min-ho caught his breath, forced to wait for Moon Sang-oh. Every second felt precious. Just then, Moon Sang-oh arrived clutching the master key.
He couldn't wait even that short time.
"Toss it! Hurry!"
Grabbing the key, Min-ho swiftly unlocked and opened the door. As expected, Chairman Kang lay in bed.
"Grandfather!"
At his grandson's cry, Chairman Kang opened his eyes. Unlike yesterday, his complexion was poor.
"Are you feeling unwell?"
Chairman Kang spoke very slowly.
"I tried to get up, but my whole body aches and my head's spinning. How can this happen?"
Thankfully, it wasn't serious. The startled Min-ho sighed in relief, patting his chest. Instead, Chairman Kang reached out and caressed his cheek.
"Looks like I haven't adjusted to the time difference. Butler, fetch Professor Park."
"Understood."
The grandfather gazed intently at his grandson's worried face.
"Thanks to my grandson, this old man will live a long time."
"I insisted on sleeping together last night."
"I know my snoring's pretty loud. That's why I said we'd sleep separately."
"From today, even if I have to sleep on the floor, I'll stay right here."
"You'll probably run off after a few days..."
Just then, the personal physician arrived. Min-ho stepped back, his face still etched with concern.
"Professor Park, you must suffer because of this old codger."
"Not at all. Chairman, I should have checked on you earlier—I'm sorry. Where exactly is the pain?"
"Feels like I've been beaten black and blue. My whole body's sore and dizzy; I can't get up."
"Could you take a deep breath for me?"
Chairman Kang exhaled slowly.
"Any pain elsewhere?"
"What, hoping I'm dead?"
"Absolutely not my intention."
"Just joking, you fool. It's just light muscle soreness with a headache. Give me a pill."
After examining Chairman Kang, Professor Park cautiously spoke up.
"The chairman says he's fine, but his body is reacting otherwise. In summary, it seems like jet lag syndrome, with no other findings for now."
"I kept my eyes closed on the plane, but the engine was too noisy... You're right, I didn't sleep well."
"I recommend canceling today's schedule and resting."
"Just give me the medicine; I know my own body."
Even lying there, Chairman Kang's sharp mind shone through.
"That report in your hand—you brought it for this old man, right?"
"Yes. I calculated JK Group's projected economic gains assuming Hwang Young-ho wins gold."
"Exactly. A manager lost in emotions is dangerous. You always have to keep the abacus spinning in your head."
Reviewing the report while reclined, Chairman Kang smiled in satisfaction.
"If Young-ho wins, it's worth 60 billion, and countless benefits for us... Yes, even this old man thinks the math checks out."
"We have him on exclusive contract, so no worries there. The pre-filmed ads will have massive impact—too huge to quantify precisely, so I noted that."
"Right. The day Son Ki-jeong won gold and bowed his head... If Hwang Young-ho takes a medal after 56 years, it'll go down in history."
"The JK Group logo is prominently on the uniform."
"Let's see if my grandson stuffs rice cakes in this old man's mouth again this time."
***
Montjuïc Stadium, where the Olympics' crowning event—the marathon—was held, was packed with 65,000 spectators.
After his hospital checkup, Chairman Kang opted to push through for this irreplaceable day. In the end, he arrived at the stadium under tight security alongside Son Ki-jeong.
Son Ki-jeong's gaze toward Hwang Young-ho carried profound meaning. The grudge of 56 years. Though too frail to run himself now, he'd come to witness the resolution of that pain from when he had to run under the Rising Sun flag.
Time hadn't dimmed his heroism. Foreigners recognized him instantly, offering handshakes. Reporters' shutters flashed, and even local cameras captured him.
Government officials greeted Son Ki-jeong and Chairman Kang in turn.
"Chairman, you must be tired from coming all this way."
"What hardship for me? I'm fine—please take good care of the teacher."
"Yes, sir."
The spotlight remained firmly on Son Ki-jeong, not the athletes.
Choi Jong-hoon, who'd been scanning the surroundings, subtly offered Min-ho his sunglasses.
"Young master, perhaps you should wear these."
"No one's paying attention to me here. Cameras won't catch me either."
"Yes. Let me know if you need them."
Min-ho glanced at Choi and smiled.
"Anyone would think you're the athlete, lawyer. Why so tense?"
"Like you said yesterday, with Son Ki-jeong here in person, I just hope he gets that medal."
"He will. Don't worry."
"Really?"
"When have my words ever been wrong? He'll edge out the Japanese runner for first."
"If that happens... it'd be like a movie come to life."
"He'll definitely get the medal. Just watch comfortably."
The stadium announcer boomed.
[The marathon will begin shortly.]
Warming up, Hwang Young-ho locked eyes with Son Ki-jeong. He kissed the Taegukgi and waved.
Tense-faced athletes took their positions at the start. Son Ki-jeong silently watched Hwang Young-ho.
A massive gunshot echoed, and the race began. The runners soon exited the stadium, with the giant screen linking to the live feed.
Chairman Kang gripped Son Ki-jeong's hand tightly.
"No need to worry. Young-ho will surely win a medal."
"That would fulfill my deepest wish."
"Everything will go well."
Min-ho turned to check Chairman Kang's condition. Thankfully, his color had improved since morning. As he sighed in relief, his eyes caught two interpreters—one for Son Ki-jeong, the other for Chairman Kang. Their expressions were grim. Overly tense, they were stumbling over Korean instead of Spanish.
Chairman Kang's face hardened as the interpreting irked him. Min-ho couldn't just watch.
Moving closer, he spoke to the interpreters.
"Nervous, huh?"
"These are such great figures; words aren't coming out."
"You only studied in Korea?"
"Yes. Trying to convey honorifics is tough."
"Speak casually to me. I'll relay it properly to them."
"Got it."
It was a laugh-or-cry situation, but the best option now. Min-ho translated their Korean into polite phrasing.
"Teacher, he's past 20km at the Madrilenian area. Hwang Young-ho's pulled ahead."
"He needs to pace himself there. Rushing impatiently won't do."
"The guy next to him is Japan's Morishita. Middle is Hwang Young-ho, right is Kim Wan-seok."
"Wan-seok's pacing him but will fall back soon."
"How do you know?"
"You'll see—he's speeding up to lead Young-ho."
As Son Ki-jeong predicted, at 25km, Kim Wan-seok noticeably lagged. Now only two led.
1147, Republic of Korea, Hwang Young-ho.
1087, Japan, Morishita.
It felt like fate's jest—not just any rival, but Japan against Korea.
Son Ki-jeong watched tensely.
"Passing the Columbus statue now. 35km down."
The agony of running dozens of kilometers was unimaginable. Both runners' faces screamed pain.
"After the fountain, it's Montjuïc hill."
"Young-ho's managing his stamina well. Nail this hill, and he's good. That Morishita looks exhausted."
Hwang Young-ho tackled the infamous Montjuïc hill. Dragging his weary body up the steep incline without pause. Morishita, already spent, kept glancing back, eyeing Hwang like a rival.
Hwang stayed resolute and clever. Sensing the turning point, he accelerated even uphill. The gap with Morishita widened.
The 65,000 spectators in Montjuïc Stadium erupted in cheers. Seizing momentum, Hwang ran stronger, pulling further ahead.
Confirming victory was his, Hwang crested the hellish hill and flew down the descent. At 40km: 2 hours, 6 minutes, 33 seconds. The gap now over 15 meters.
If he held this, Hwang Young-ho would claim gold. Son Ki-jeong and Chairman Kang clasped hands and raised them high.
"Teacher, Young-ho's got first locked."
"Our Young-ho's finally done it."
The Japanese runner was barely in camera shot. Gold was certain.
Min-ho nodded to Moon Sang-oh, who approached with a report.
"Hwang Young-ho is confirmed for first. Shall we escort the two gentlemen down?"
"Yes. What a glorious moment."
Son Ki-jeong, eyes reddening, said nothing. He just gripped Chairman Kang's hand tightly as they went to greet Hwang Young-ho.
The historic moment washing away 56 years of resentment.
Chairman Kang and Son Ki-jeong descended to the stadium field, waiting for Hwang Young-ho. Son Ki-jeong stared at the scoreboard in disbelief.
The announcer grabbed the mic and shouted.
[Here comes the first runner... Korea's Hwang Young-ho!]
Hwang Young-ho charged in powerfully. All 65,000 spectators rose in a standing ovation.
[He'll lap the track once and cross the finish. The grudge of 56 years resolved—a historic moment.]
Confident in gold, he waved leisurely, striding strongly toward the line.
[Korea's Hwang Young-ho! 50m to go... 40m... The Barcelona Olympic marathon gold goes to Hwang Young-ho!]
Son Ki-jeong and Chairman Kang waited at the finish. Hwang Young-ho crossed with arms triumphantly raised.
The moment 56 years of resentment dissolved.
Hwang Young-ho rushed straight to Son Ki-jeong and Chairman Kang, embracing them in hot tears. Camera flashes exploded nonstop, the scoreboard broadcasting the trio live.
Min-ho had succeeded in showcasing JK Group to the world. He smiled subtly and nodded.