The World of Infinite Competition
"Huh? Five hundred loaves of bread?"
At the driver's startled exclamation, Yoon-gi repeated his request clearly once more. "Yes, 500 loaves. I need them by the next break."
As the call ended, the driver stared blankly at the receiver, listening to the dial tone. But soon, a sinister smile crept onto his lips, and his gaze shifted to the Go board where he had been playing against another chauffeur.
"Hey, Driver Kim. What are you doing? I told you to just throw the stone."
A bet worth two packs of cigarettes. In a situation where he practically had to throw the game, a call of salvation had arrived. "What should I do? The young master gave me an errand, so I think I have to go."
"What? What are you talking about! Finish the game before you go!"
"I'm sorry, that's how it is. Wait for me, just in case. If I come back, we'll play again."
"Hey, you jerk! Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey!"
Even with the opponent shouting from afar, the driver left the club with a laugh. 'He said 500 bags, right? Should I swipe 10 bags to take home?'
As soon as the break began, Driver Kim appeared outside the classroom window. "Young master, I've bought them."
"Was the money enough?"
"The Chairman ordered me to ensure you lack for nothing, so this is no problem at all."
"Thank you for your hard work. Distribute 100 bags to the faculty office, and take as much as you need for yourself, too. You have kids at home, right?"
A look of awkwardness flickered across the face of Driver Kim, who had already stashed 10 bags in his car. "Thank you. I will do as you say."
After Driver Kim bowed and left—having tucked a little over 100 bags into a sack he’d brought just in case—Yoon-gi called out to Jin-su. "Jin-su!"
"Oh! Yeah, Yoon-gi!"
Jin-su, who came running as fast as a dog called by its master, struggled alongside Yoon-gi to hoist the sack onto the teacher's desk.
"Dump it."
"Dump it?"
"Yeah."
Standing on a chair, they tipped the sack over the desk. 400 loaves of bread spilled out, overflowing the desk and cascading onto the floor.
"Whoa! It feels like time has stopped!"
Just as Jin-su said, the classroom fell into a silence so profound it was as if the power had gone out. Over 60 children were staring at the desk, not even daring to breathe.
"Line up from number one."
At Yoon-gi's command, the children lined up more orderly than they ever did for a teacher. Except for Won-hee. "Hey! What are you guys doing! Are you beggars?"
But the children didn't pay any attention to Won-hee at all.
"Jin-su, hand them out five at a time."
"Really? Five each?"
"There's plenty."
"Got it!"
The first student, handed five loaves by Jin-su, bowed hesitantly to Yoon-gi and scurried back to his seat. Even though it was break time, the atmosphere was as polite and formal as a classroom lesson.
"Th-thank you." The fifth student gave thanks, and the eleventh student even teared up while bowing. When it reached the seventeenth student, Yoon-gi said quietly, "Do you still need the bread she gave you?"
It was a red bean bread received in exchange for carrying a bag. The student pondered for a moment, went to his seat, and returned the bread he had tucked away in his cloth wrapper to Won-hee. "I'm giving this back."
"What? Hey, you..."
"Anyway, I'm giving it back!"
The student dropped the bread onto the desk and ran back to line up at the front. "Give this one six."
"Got it!"
The student, who expected five, received six—including the one he had returned—and sat down, beaming and thanking Yoon-gi repeatedly.
Even though most had received their bread, the children didn't speak, maintaining a reverent attitude during the 'Bread Distribution Ceremony.' Finally, everyone had their share.
'Even after giving it all out, there's nearly 100 bags left.' Looking at the mountain of bread, Jin-su asked, "Yoon-gi, what should we do with these?"
"You take them."
"Huh?"
"They're all yours."
"Awesome!"
Jin-su packed the remaining bread into the sack with superhuman speed, then, like a thief who had robbed a rich house, sat at his desk with the massive sack on his back, looking triumphant.
"Grrr..." A sound of frustration came from somewhere nearby. A moment later, Park Seon-ja returned to the classroom after the break and couldn't help but be flustered. "Wait, Won-hee, why are you crying?"
"My dad said Yoon-gi is like Jesus!" one of the children who had received bread yesterday said excitedly, and another asked, "What does that have to do with Jesus?"
"Jesus fed 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish, but Yoon-gi fed us until we were stuffed!"
The children, clapping and cheering, were all hovering around Yoon-gi's seat. 'I've felt this often in this life, but it feels new every time. To think that a life could be this happy. It's thrilling, it's truly the best.'
Though he kept a stoic expression on the outside, Yoon-gi was feeling incredibly satisfied on the inside. Back when he was Kim Chanyeol, he had to sit near the so-called 'insiders' and perform all sorts of jokes just to get their attention. Of course, even then, he was bullied for being poor, unwashed, and always covered in bruises from the 'dog-trash' bullies.
But now, just by sitting still, children flocked to him, offering endless flattery to get into his good graces. It was immensely satisfying.
To Choi Deok-bae, who was floating around him and pouring out complaints, Choi Yoon-gi replied internally. 'You're noisy.'
'If you shut your mouth from now on, I'll offer you a bread.'
At the mention of a 'mini ancestral rite table,' Choi Deok-bae's pupils shook like an earthquake. 'Two.'
'Fine.'
Choi Deok-bae shut his mouth immediately. 'It's nice that it's quiet.' Though he frowned, perhaps a bit dissatisfied, he floated quietly around Choi Yoon-gi, thinking of an ancestral table with two loaves of bread and a cup of milk.
'If you sit still in one place, three.'
Watching Choi Deok-bae sit demurely by the window while answering, Choi Yoon-gi smiled to himself.
"Yoon-gi, eat this!" A girl held out an apple to him.
"An apple?"
"Yeah! My family runs an orchard, and I secretly picked one today!"
Although it was the 70s and the hand of a child from a poor family was a bit dirty, Yoon-gi took the apple and bit into it without hesitation. "I'll enjoy it."
"Hehehe..." Though she wasn't exactly pretty, Yoon-gi felt his heart heal as he watched a smile spread across the innocent child's face, full of admiration. 'Receiving goodwill is truly wonderful.'
But an uninvited guest interrupted. "Hey, you guys want to see this?"
At Won-hee's words, the children's gazes turned to him, if only for a moment. "Do you guys know what this is?"
An object sat on Won-hee's desk. 'A pencil sharpener.' It was a very familiar object to Yoon-gi. A silver, train-shaped pencil sharpener sat on the desk, looking as if it were glowing.
Since pencil sharpeners didn't properly appear in Korea until the late 1970s, the children in 1975 were naturally unfamiliar with them. "Heh, does this look like a train to you?"
With a smug expression, Won-hee picked up a pencil and inserted it into the sharpener. Whirrr, click, whirrr! When the smoothly sharpened pencil emerged a moment later, the children gasped in amazement.
"See? This is called a pencil sharpener, you idiots."
Despite being called idiots, perhaps because of the wonder of the pencil sharpener, the children just stared at Won-hee with envious eyes. "Who needs their pencil sharpened?"
At Won-hee's words, everyone raised their hands again. Just like when the bread was pulled out of the bag yesterday. And just like before, Won-hee began looking for someone to carry his bag, and the same thing happened.
'Humans are stupid, and because of that...' He glared at Choi Deok-bae for stealing his line, but Choi Deok-bae just winked, as if to say, 'This much is fine, isn't it?'
'Sigh.' Just as he was shrugging internally, Jin-su said in a somewhat loud voice, "Yoon-gi has one of those too!"
The children's gazes swiveled toward Yoon-gi. "Yoon-gi! You have one too? Show us!"
Yoon-gi acted as if he were reluctant, but when Jin-su said, "Come on, show us once! You have an even better one!" he pulled a pencil sharpener from his bag as if he had no choice.
It was a pencil sharpener that looked even more antique than Won-hee's. If Won-hee's was Japanese, this was an American one that Colonel Colson had brought as a gift.
"Yoon-gi's is American. Won-hee, where is yours from?"
"J-Japanese."
Watching Won-hee answer hesitantly, Jin-su put his hands on his hips and arched his back like a bowstring. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Yoon-gi's is American. Yours is from the Japs, Yoon-gi's is the good American one!"
Then, in an instant, the children flocked back to Yoon-gi's side.
"It's not even yours, so why are you acting so high and mighty!"
Jin-su was momentarily speechless at Won-hee's words, but Yoon-gi immediately followed up. "Jin-su, you take this."
"What? Really?"
"Yeah. I have more at home."
"Wow! Yoon-gi is the best! Hey! I have a pencil sharpener now too!"
While Won-hee was trembling as Jin-su stuck out his tongue and teased him, Jin-su delivered the finishing blow. "Yoon-gi, is it okay if I sharpen the kids' pencils?"
"It's yours now, so do whatever you want."
"Awesome! Hey guys! Everyone line up with your pencils!"
As the children cheered and gathered around Jin-su, Won-hee, biting his lip, made a desperate move. "Hey! I'll sharpen yours too. Everyone gather 'round!"
"But we have to carry your bag."
"No, I'll just sharpen them for you!"
The children, who were initially indifferent, gradually began to flock to Won-hee's side as the line grew too long. "Won-hee's side is faster!"
"No, Yoon-gi's side is faster!"
The children began to turn it into a competition of speed, and Won-hee, as if he couldn't lose, turned his face red and spun the sharpener like a madman.
How many pencils had he sharpened? *Snap!*
"Gasp!"
In an instant, the inside of Won-hee's sharpener broke, and the pencil snapped along with it. "Waaah, my pencil!"
The owner of the pencil threw a tantrum and pushed Won-hee, and thanks to that, Won-hee also fell on his bottom and began to cry. And then, the class bell rang.
"Wait, why is Won-hee crying again?" Park Seon-ja felt another headache coming on.
"Why did you take that to school and break it!"
Lee Won-hee's mother, Jung Ok-ju, laid him across her lap and began to spank him mercilessly. The sound of 'thwack, thwack' echoed from his overalls, but because Lee Won-hee's crying was even louder, only his screams rang through the living room of the two-story house.
"Waaaaaah!"
"Do you know how much that cost! Do you know how hard your father had to work to buy that!"
In truth, considering the income of Won-hee's household, it wasn't a burdensome amount, and it wasn't difficult for his father, who traveled abroad often, to buy. However, Jung Ok-ju was scolding him more for the sake of his upbringing. Her eight-year-old son was simply too immature.
But as the grandfather who had made his grandson so immature appeared, Jung Ok-ju had to stop her hand. "Hey, it's not even that expensive, why are you scolding the boy like that?"