With Effort, You Can Do It

The goal of South Korea's top-tier math questions—the so-called "Killer Questions"—is clear.

1. Problem-solving skills based on highly advanced techniques.

2. Animalistic reflexes displayed under extreme time pressure.

Since students must solve thirty questions in a brief one hundred minutes, mastering the knack of deriving answers quickly and mechanically is essential.

On the other hand, the direction pursued by the "Main Exams" of prestigious Japanese universities is slightly different.

1. Can you prove the given proposition using your own logical development?

2. Show the depth of your mathematical inquiry—how far can you dig?

In short, they give you plenty of time, but they want you to show the absolute bottom of your mathematical thinking.

In that respect, putting aside my pride as a Korean for a moment and being honest, I have to admit that the "mathematical elegance" of Japan's top-tier questions is a level above.

Korea's killer questions are... how should I put it? They aren't beautiful. They're dirty.

Rather than testing true mathematical thinking, they feel like some outer god's tentacled abomination, cooked up by a gloomy, sleep-deprived menhera girl locked in the evaluation board's secret chamber to torture examinees.

Something like this:

Anyway, maybe that was why.

The moment I saw that elegant, dignified problem printed at the end of Ueda Shun's workbook, my lips parted before I could stop myself.

"Um, if it's not too rude..."

"Yeah? Go ahead."

"The last question... would it be alright if I tried solving it? I think... I might be able to do it."

At my cautious, timid question, a stunned silence fell over the table.

"...Huh? Oh, uh, sure. Go ahead."

Shun was the first to snap out of it. With a dazed expression, he nodded and handed me the silver mechanical pencil he was holding.

Of course, his face clearly read: What on earth is Raon-yang thinking?

Still, Shun was one of the better ones.

The Suzukis sitting across from us had looks that said something like this:

Those insolent fools!

How dare you doubt me when you probably spam L'Hôpital's rule without even checking the limit conditions first?

"Inhale, exhale..."

I felt a surge of irritation, but I placed a hand on my chest and took a few deep breaths.

Then, I carefully took the mechanical pencil Shun offered with my slender, pale fingers.

Click, click.

The cheerful sound of lead extending.

Pulling the scratch ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠paper toward me, I demurely lowered my long, thick eyelashes.

To those foolish boys, I probably looked like a pitiful, fragile high school girl trembling with regret for stepping forward.

But did they have any idea?

Hehehe...

My inner self was on the verge of going crazy, trying to hold back the thick, gooey happiness threatening to leak from the corners of my mouth.

Who was it? Who was the test-maker who crafted this delicious problem?

Just what kind of person were they? Where could I go to meet them?

Ah, I knew. If ordinary people who hated math saw me right now, they would probably think I was a lunatic for being this happy over a single math problem.

But what could I do? Solving math problems was just so, so much fun.

Especially this one right in front of me.

I didn't know if it was from Tokyo University or Kyoto University, but it was definitely a past exam question from one of Japan's top-tier prestigious universities.

Just scanning the conditions with my eyes was enough to feel the test-maker's deep expertise and academic class.

There was no forced, stubborn complexity. Every given condition meshed together perfectly, like the micro-gears of an ultra-expensive Swiss watch.

At the same time, it possessed a meticulous perversity that subtly baited you into a wrong answer at the very end.

Ah, ahhh~♡ What kind of absolute genius made this?♡

This is a delicacy among delicacies, a true masterpiece♡♡

If I fed this problem to a state-of-the-art AI, this would surely be the response:

Ehehe... slurp.

Seriously, it's so, so delicious!

Scritch, scratch.

Scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch—

The tip of the pencil began to glide across the white paper without hesitation.

In contrast to my sticky, chaotic thoughts, the formulas writing themselves on the paper were in a neat, elegant print, just like my outward appearance.

Separation of variables through substitution.

Inferring the function's shape and resetting the integration interval.

Finally, substituting the limit value and tidying up the equation.

Heh. Whoever you are, you have incredibly classic taste.

I stopped the scratching pencil and let a tiny, satisfied smile play on my lips.

"Phew..."

Just as I was about to lift my head with a proud heart, having written down a flawless, perfect solution—

Ugh.

A terrible wave of nausea surged from the pit of my stomach.

The ecstatic euphoria I had felt while solving the problem vanished instantly, replaced by a sticky cold sweat running down my spine.

What do I do?

My breath caught. I couldn't lift my head.

I'm scared. I feel like I'm going to cry.

It was obvious. I had definitely ruined the mood again.

A transfer student who had just arrived today had suddenly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intruded on a fun math study session among boys and acted like a know-it-all. The atmosphere at the table must have frozen solid.

That terrible scene played out vividly in my mind.

The Suzukis awkwardly avoiding eye contact and coughing.

And Shun's troubled face, forcing a stiff smile as he said, "Uh... wow, that's great."

...It's fine.

I gripped the mechanical pencil tightly, biting my trembling lower lip.

I was used to this. I hadn't lived such a soft life that I would be broken by something like this.

I was an adult who could hide my true feelings and wear a mask of nonchalant smiles.

I just had to smile shyly like usual, say "I got lucky this time," and brush it off lightly.

Just like I always did.

"Um..."

Barely managing to steady my breathing, I slowly lifted my stiff neck.

"I, I finished solving it..."

Bracing myself for a freezing silence, I cautiously opened my tightly shut eyelids.

But.

The scene across the table was completely different from my bleak expectations.

A voice as refreshing as a midsummer shower rang in my ears, instantly washing away the dark, damp hallucinations of the past.

"─That's amazing!!"

Startled by the cheerful shout, I looked up to find Ueda Shun's face suddenly looming close.

Shun's eyes were sparkling with genuine excitement, like a boy who had just discovered an incredible treasure.

"Whoa, holy crap... this is insane..."

"So that's how you solve it."

Kenji and Suzuki across from us were the same.

Sarcasm? Stiffness? Their faces held nothing but pure, unadulterated admiration.

There wasn't a single trace of annoyance at me "showing off."

"Raon-yang. Here, when you split the interval during substitution—ah! So that's why! I got stuck earlier because the variables got tangled up there, but you bypassed it like this to clean up the equation?"

Shun pointed at the solution on my scratch paper, unable to hide his excitement.

He was pointing exactly at the trap set by the test-maker that I had admired earlier.

"Seriously, this is incredible. This isn't something you can just do with simple intuition or being smart. You must have put in an immense amount of effort to handle equations as naturally as breathing."

Ah.

Wait a minute.

Stop.

If you say something like that, with that kind of expression...

"Raon-yang, you really love math, don't you?"

Whoosh—

The fragile distance between us collapsed in an instant.

He was too close. He didn't even give me room to look away.

Shun was marveling with a bright, shadowless smile.

Those sparkling eyes, looking solely at me.

That clear voice, free of any pretense or inferiority complex.

A warm heat that genuinely admired another person and directly validated the damp effort and time I must have built up in unseen places.

"Ah...!?"

I gasped despite myself.

I had to answer. I had to laugh it off with some appropriate excuse.

But for some reason, bound by the boy's straight, honest gaze, I couldn't open my mouth.

As if the cold sweat that had drenched my spine just moments ago was a lie, a sudden, explosive heat spread from the back of my neck.

Thump—! Thump—!

Oh no. What do I do?

My, my face... it must look like a tomato about to burst...

"Um, well, that is...!"

Unable to bear the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠awkward silence, I finally managed to speak.

But I didn't have the confidence to look Shun in the face, so my gaze wandered aimlessly over the table.

My trembling fingers nervously toyed with the lead of the mechanical pencil.

What should I say? Please, anything.

The words that slipped out of my mouth, bypassing my panicked brain, were terrible, sounding like they belonged to someone else.

"...If Shun-gun and the others..."

It was so quiet. A voice barely above a whisper.

"...work hard... I'm sure... you can do it too."

Ah. You've lost your mind, Lee Raon.

What was with that tone just now?! It sounded like I was some grand teacher lecturing them...

This is the absolute worst! Seriously!

"Ah, uh?"

I didn't need a mirror to know.

My face was definitely burning redder than it had been a moment ago.

In the end, unable to overcome the surging embarrassment, I slammed my forehead onto the table with a soft thud.

"...Ughhh."

"R-Raon-yang?!"

I wished I could just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faint right here and now.