TOIGC 07

Chapter 7 …

You in Finite Competition, Me in Infinite Competition (2)

[Pardon? Five hundred pastries?]

At the driver’s stunned reply, Yoongi clearly repeated his order.

“Yes, five hundred pastries. I need them by the next recess.”

The moment the line went dead, the driver stared at the receiver humming with dial tones, momentarily dazed. Soon enough, a dark smirk spread across his face, and he turned his gaze back to the Go board where he’d been playing against another executive’s driver.

“Hey, Kim! What are you doing over there? Just forfeit already!”

They were playing for a two-pack wager on cigarettes. Having been on the verge of surrendering, the phone call had arrived like an act of divine intervention.

“Ah, what a shame. The young master just gave me an errand, so I’ve got to run.” “What? What are you talking about?! Finish the game before you go!” “Sorry, duty calls. Stick around if you can—if I get back early, we’ll finish.” “Hey! You jerk! Hey! Hey, hey, hey!”

Ignoring his opponent’s distant shouts, the driver chuckled as he walked out of the Go hall.

Did he say five hundred bags? Maybe I’ll pocket ten for myself to take home.

The moment recess hit, Driver Kim appeared right outside the classroom window.

“Young Master, I’ve brought them.” “Did you have enough money?” “The Chairman ordered that you be provided for without lack, so this is nothing.” “Thank you for your hard work. Please hand out a hundred bags to the faculty room, and take as many as you need for yourself. You have kids at home too, right?”

Having already stashed ten bags in the car, Driver Kim managed an awkward smile.

“Thank you, Young Master. I’ll do just that.”

After bowing politely, Driver Kim left with a separate sack stuffed with a little over a hundred pastries. Yoongi immediately called for Jinsu.

“Jinsu!” “Oh! Yeah, Yoongi!”

Pouncing forward like a puppy called by its master, Jinsu helped Yoongi strain to lift the heavy sack onto the podium.

“Dump it out.” “Dump it out?” “Yeah.”

Yoongi stood on a chair and tipped the bag over, spilling nearly four hundred pastries across the teacher’s desk and tumbling onto the floor.

“Whoa! It’s like time just stopped!”

Just as Jinsu said, a dead silence settled over the room like a sudden blackout. Over sixty kids stared wide-eyed at the teacher’s desk, barely daring to breathe.

“Starting from number one, line up in order.”

At Yoongi’s word, the kids organized themselves into a line with more discipline than if a teacher had ordered it—with Wonhee being the sole exception.

“Hey! What are you guys doing?! Are you beggars or something?!”

The children ignored Wonhee completely.

“Jinsu, pass out five to each.” “Really? Five whole pastries each?” “There are plenty.” “Got it!”

After receiving his five pastries from Jinsu, student number one bowed timidly to Yoongi before scrambling back to his desk. Even though it was recess, a polite, orderly atmosphere took over the room as if class were still in session.

“T-Thank you,” student number five whispered. Student number eleven bowed with tears welling in his eyes.

When it was student number seventeen’s turn, Yoongi spoke up quietly.

“Do you still need the bread he gave you?”

The single red-bean pastry received in exchange for carrying a bag. The boy hesitated for a moment, walked back to his desk, took out the pastry he had wrapped in cloth earlier, and handed it back to Wonhee.

“Here, I’m giving this back.” “What? Hey, you—” “Anyway, here!”

Tossing the bread onto Wonhee’s desk, the boy sprinted back to take his place at the front of the line.

“Give him six,” Yoongi said. “You got it!”

Expecting five pastries, the boy ended up with six including the one he returned. He beamed, thanking Yoongi repeatedly before heading back to his desk.

Even after most of the class received their shares, no one chattered. They maintained a reverent quiet for the distribution, until finally every last child had received their portion.

There’s still nearly a hundred left even after handing them all out.

Looking at the remaining pile, Jinsu asked, “Yoongi, what do we do with these?” “Keep them.” “Huh?” “They’re all yours.” “Awesome!”

With superhuman speed, Jinsu shoved the remaining pastries into the sack, hoisted the massive bundle onto his back like a thief looting a mansion, and returned to his seat with a triumphant swagger.

“Grrr…”

A defeated growl echoed from a distance. A few moments later, recess ended, and Park Sunja walked back into the room, only to be met with an utterly bewildering sight.

“Wonhee? Why on earth are you crying?”

“My dad said Yoongi is like Jesus!” one of the kids who received pastries yesterday blurted out dramatically.

Another child chimed in, “What does he have to do with Jesus?” “Jesus fed five thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fish, but Yoongi stuffed all our bellies with pastries!” [[[[Right! Exactly!]]]]

Clapping their hands in excitement, the kids swarmed around Yoongi’s desk, chatting away.

I’ve felt it a lot in this life, but it never gets old. Being a popular kid feels amazing. This is absolute bliss.

Though he kept an indifferent face on the outside, Yoongi was grinning internally. Back when he was Chanyeol, he used to sit near the popular kids, cracking every joke imaginable just to get their attention. Even then, he was ostracized for being poor, unwashed, and constantly bruised from his father’s beatings. Now, simply sitting still brought a crowd of kids showering him with flattery just to get on his good side. It was thoroughly satisfying.

<Enjoying Even Tsk, a age an ancestor brat. buy cold crumb disrespectful endless for has kids little love? much? not of offering order pastries precedence, showers single that the to water while who with yet you your yourself>

Yoongi replied internally to Deokbae, who was floating beside him and venting his frustration.

Quiet down. <Hmph! I I’ll Just Me, Oh a and anything but dark do few from ho, if maybe nothing now? of on. past quiet? right secrets see should spill teach today useful wait whine! you your> Shut your mouth right now, and I’ll perform a full bow before a pastry for you.

At the offer of a “mini memorial table,” Deokbae’s eyes shook like an earthquake.

<Three.> Two. <A glass milk, of then.> Deal. <…>

Deokbae shut his mouth instantly.

Ah, peace and quiet.

Though he pouted a little, Deokbae quietly floated near Yoongi, his mind fixed on the image of a memorial spread featuring two pastries and a glass of milk.

Stay seated in one spot, and I’ll make it three. <You I I’m No brat! bread, how matter much not shameless! that want>

Even as he said that, Deokbae modestly sat down by the windowsill. Yoongi smirked to himself.

“Yoongi, eat this!” A girl offered Yoongi an apple.

“An apple?” “Yeah! My family owns an orchard, so I snuck one out today!”

Though her hands were a bit smudged—typical for an ordinary child in the 1970s—Yoongi took the apple and took a generous bite without hesitation.

“Thanks, I’ll enjoy it.” “Ehehe…”

She wasn’t particularly pretty, but watching a innocent smile spread across her adoration-filled face gave Yoongi a warm, comforting feeling.

Receiving goodwill really is a great thing.

Just then, an uninvited guest barged in.

“Hey guys, you wanna see this?”

Wonhee’s voice briefly drew the children’s attention toward him.

“Do you guys even know what this is?”

A device sat on top of Wonhee’s desk.

A pencil sharpener.

It was a piece of tech Yoongi was all too familiar with. A sleek, silver train-shaped pencil sharpener rested on Wonhee’s desk, gleaming as if radiating light.

[[[Whoa! A train!]]]

Since pencil sharpeners weren’t widely introduced in Korea until the late 1970s, the children in 1975 were bound to find it fascinating.

“Heh-heh, you think this is just a train?”

With an insufferably smug look, Wonhee picked up a pencil and slotted it into the machine.

Grind, grind, grind!

A moment later, he pulled out a cleanly sharpened pencil. The kids gasped in awe.

“See that? This is called a pencil sharpener, you dummies.”

Despite being called dummies, the sheer wonder of the device kept the kids staring at Wonhee with envy.

“Anyone need their pencil sharpened?”

At Wonhee’s prompt, everyone raised their hands again—just like when he pulled the cream bread from his bag yesterday. True to form, Wonhee began looking for someone to carry his bag in exchange, repeating the exact same dynamic.

Humans are foolish, which is why… <…they repeat the same mistakes.>

Having his thought stolen, Yoongi glared at Deokbae, but the ghost merely winked back as if saying, Come on, a little overlap won’t hurt.

Sigh.

As Yoongi shrugged to himself, Jinsu spoke up in a raised voice.

“Yoongi has one of those too!”

The children’s gazes snapped back toward Yoongi in unison.

“Yoongi! You have one too? Show us!”

Yoongi put on a reluctant expression until Jinsu nudged him, saying, “Aw, come on, just show us once! You have an even better one!” Yoongi reluctantly pulled a pencil sharpener from his bag.

It was an antique-style piece, looking far more refined than Wonhee’s. If Wonhee’s was a Japanese model, this was an American import brought over by Brigadier General Colson.

“Yoongi’s is from America. Wonhee, where is yours from?” “J-Japan.”

As Wonhee answered hesitantly, Jinsu placed his hands on his hips and arched his back again.

“Bha-ha-ha! Yoongi’s is American, but yours is Japanese! Yoongi has a nice American one!”

In an instant, the kids crowded around Yoongi’s desk once more.

“It’s not even yours, so why are you showing off?!” Wonhee snapped.

Jinsu was momentarily lost for words, but Yoongi stepped in immediately.

“Jinsu, you can have this.” “What? Really?!” “Yeah. I have more at home.” “Whoa! Yoongi, you’re the absolute best! Hey guys! I have a pencil sharpener now too!”

As Jinsu stuck his tongue out at Wonhee, Wonhee trembled with rage. That was when Jinsu landed the finishing blow.

“Yoongi, can I sharpen the other kids’ pencils?” “It’s yours now, so do whatever you want.” “Sweet! Alright guys, line up with your pencils!” [[[[Yayyyyy!!]]]]

As the kids cheered and swarmed around Jinsu, Wonhee bit his lip and made a reckless blunder.

“Hey! I’ll sharpen yours too! Everyone come over here!” “Do we have to carry your bag?” “No! I’ll just sharpen them for free!”

Slightly uninterested at first, some kids started drifting toward Wonhee as Jinsu’s line grew too long.

“Wonhee’s faster!” “No way, Yoongi’s side is faster!”

The kids began pitting them against each other in a speed race. Determined not to lose, Wonhee turned his pencil sharpener like a madman until his face flushed red. After cranking through several pencils—

Snap!

“Eek!”

The internal mechanism of Wonhee’s sharpener broke apart, snapping the pencil inside along with it.

“Waaaah, my pencil!”

The pencil’s owner threw a fit and shoved Wonhee, sending him tumbling onto his backside on the floor in tears.

Just then, the bell rang.

“Wonhee… why are you crying again?”

Park Sunja felt another dull headache coming on.

“Why did you take that to school and break it?!”

Lee Wonhee’s mother, Jeong Okju, flipped him face-down over her knees and began spanking his backside mercilessly. The suspenders added a sharp thwack, thwack to the impact, but Wonhee’s wails were far louder, filling the first-floor living room of the two-story house with his screams.

“Waaaaaaah!” “Do you have any idea how much that cost?! How hard it was for your father to buy that?!”

In truth, given the Lee family’s income, the cost was hardly a burden, nor was it difficult to buy for a father who went on frequent business trips. Okju was disciplining him strictly out of a desire for proper upbringing; her eight-year-old son was simply far too spoiled.

However, when the grandfather responsible for spoiling the boy stepped into the room, Okju had to pause her swinging hand.

“Come on now, it wasn’t even that expensive. Why are you punishing the boy like that?”