TOIGC 06

Chapter 6 …

You in Finite Competition, Me in Infinite Competition (1)

A Daewoo Royale?

Choi Yoongi—who had once worked at a junkyard in his past life—felt his hazy memories clear as he recognized the car idling at the school gates. By mid-1970s standards, it held a status roughly equivalent to a modern Genesis G80 in the 2010s. Yet here it was, parked squarely in front of the school.

Adjusted for simple inflation, it was worth around 50 million won for a base model. But considering the per capita national income back in the seventies, it was an astronomically expensive luxury. To top it off, the passenger didn’t even open his own door; the driver stepped out from the front seat to open it for him.

Then came the child.

His outfit was shockingly similar to Yoongi’s. His shorts were a brown plaid instead of plain black, and he lacked a bowtie, but virtually everything else was identical—down to subtle brand variations and shoes.

Nothing worth obsessing over, right? He’s not even in my class.

It caught his eye for a second, but that was all. Judging by yesterday’s orientation, they weren’t in the same section. Yoongi turned to walk through the gates, but as he did, his eyes briefly locked with the boy’s across the open space.

The kid glanced around, took in Yoongi’s surroundings, and let out a smug scoff. Dressed up in the same fancy clothes, he was mistakenly convinced that coming in a car placed him on a completely different level from Yoongi, who had walked.

Snort.

This time, Yoongi scoffed back at the kid before stepping through the gates.

No point in dealing with a spoiled brat at the school entrance.

He had zero intention of starting a fight that might tarnish his grandfather’s or parents’ reputation.

Clack!

The moment he slid open the classroom door, a familiar voice called out.

“Yoongi!”

It was Kim Jinsu. The connection that began back at Hana Kindergarten had carried all the way here.

<In I I’ve about after got him. kid kindergarten, life, lost my nothing past so tell this to touch with you> Naturally.

Jinsu was here because he was the son of Ms. Oh—the housemaid who had taken the burn injury intended for Park Yeonji. Normally, Ms. Oh would have worked as a maid for a while before leaving the Choi household to work at a factory during Korea’s industrial boom. But after the boiling water incident, Yeonji paid her a generous—no, lavish—salary to keep her on as a hired housekeeper.

When Yoongi learned what had happened, he started treating Ms. Oh’s son with special care. Knowing this, Cheolho and Yeonji pulled strings to ensure Jinsu was admitted to the same school. Naturally, Jinsu was kept completely in the dark so as not to taint a genuine childhood friendship, but his presence in this class was no accident.

“Hey.”

At Yoongi’s casual greeting, Jinsu put his hands on his hips, arched his back like a bow, and burst into a boisterous laugh.

“Bha-ha-ha-ha! I told you yesterday, but what a coincidence! We really must be friends brought together by Heaven!”

Watching Jinsu act like a natural-born comedian, Choi Deokbae chuckled softly.

<Does Heaven make me that then?> I’m Heaven around here, old man.

Though the thought was unspoken, Deokbae floated around him with a smirk that said, I know exactly what you’re thinking.

“Can I sit next to you?” “Sure.”

On the surface, they were the same age, but in reality, a mental gap of over thirty years separated them. Because of that, Yoongi and Jinsu felt less like peers and more like an older brother and his younger sibling. Of course, Yoongi quite liked Jinsu’s personality—he followed Yoongi like a loyal lieutenant without a hint of awkwardness.

“You don’t have a backpack?” “Nope! Mom said we don’t have the money for one.”

Seeing Jinsu state it so proudly without a trace of embarrassment, Yoongi wondered what kind of person his friend would grow up to be.

Come to think of it, he said his family carried a ton of debt, didn’t he? Paying it off in one lump sum would cross a boundary in our relationship, which is why we pay her a generous wage, but clearing debt still isn’t easy.

Still, Yoongi had no desire to watch Jinsu walk to school carrying his books in a traditional cloth wrap, so he decided to drop a white lie.

“Come over to my house after school. I’ll give you a bag my cousin used when he was little.” “Really?!”

Jinsu yanked his chair back with a loud scrape as he stood up in excitement. Yoongi gave a quiet nod.

“Whoa! You’re the best, Yoongi!”

Thanks to Jinsu, the corner of the room was buzzing with energy. The other kids nearby watched Jinsu’s sudden stroke of good fortune with sheer envy. There was Yoongi, who practically radiated wealth, and Jinsu, who approached him without a single hesitation.

Without meaning to, Yoongi was stealing the spotlight perfectly—yesterday thanks to his mother, and today thanks to Jinsu. Right then, the classroom door slid open, and the spotlight shifted toward the entrance.

“Huh?”

A bewildered reaction escaped the kid who opened the door. It was the same boy who had stepped out of the Daewoo Royale earlier.

If they had been given more time, he might have walked up to Yoongi or made some kind of move, but since he had arrived alongside their homeroom teacher, Park Sunja, he had to stand by the podium with her hand resting on his shoulder.

“Everyone, please take your seats.”

Though her voice was low, it carried an intimidating authority that forced the first-graders to sit down instinctively. The rigid discipline of 1970s schools was palpable enough for even six-year-olds to pick up on it.

“Class, we have a new friend who couldn’t attend orientation yesterday due to a family event. His name is Lee Wonhee. Please make him feel welcome.”

Concluding her introduction, the teacher patted Wonhee’s shoulder to nudge him forward, signaling him to introduce himself.

“My name is Lee Wonhee. My grandfather is the president of Cheil Textiles, and my dad works at Daewoo.”

Normally, that reveal would have drawn awe-struck gasps, but the children simply blinked, their eyes darting back and forth between Wonhee and Yoongi. As seconds ticked by, their gazes steadily coalesced back onto Yoongi.

Young kids couldn’t easily judge the value of brand-name goods, but looks were an arena where children made absolute, brutally accurate judgments.

Yoongi was undeniably handsome. Wonhee was undeniably round.

Slightly chubby with a wide, oval face, Wonhee looked rather bulky in his fancy clothes, making his silhouette seem clumsy. Because of that, the brutally honest children showed little interest in his debut.

Noticing the lack of reaction, Wonhee puffed out his cheeks and glared at the teacher. But what could the teacher do? She had accepted a bribe envelope from Wonhee’s parents as well, but the thickness and denomination of the bills inside were in an entirely different league.

“Wonhee, go ahead and pick any open seat you like.”

Stunned by the teacher’s nonchalant response, Wonhee flinched for a moment before stomping pettily to the very back row, where the only empty desk remained.

Thump!

A heavy sound echoed through the room as his weight hit the chair. Hearing it, Park Sunja felt a dull headache coming on.

For children who had been running around wild outdoors, enduring forty minutes of rigid silence was no easy feat. The second recess arrived, the classroom erupted into chaos like wild horses breaking free of their reins.

Yoongi was quietly laughing at Deokbae’s sharp observation when a rustling sound caught his ear.

It was the sound of Wonhee pulling a cream bread out of his bag and unwrapping it. Though 1970 marked the dawn of industrialization, food was still far from abundant for ordinary families. Most of the class began smacking their lips in hunger at the sight of Wonhee’s pastry.

That’s why he’s so round.

As Yoongi watched with a touch of disdain, Wonhee cast a sneaky glance toward him before calling out to his desk partner—a girl with a bob haircut and dry patches on her cheeks. Her face was slightly long, resembling a horse, but her naive, gentle impression made her rather endearing.

“Your family doesn’t have stuff like this, right?” “U-Um…” “You want a bite?”

Thinking he might share, the girl’s eyes sparkled.

“Are you gonna give me some?”

Wonhee nodded with a grand, generous gesture.

“Since you’re my partner, I’ll give you a special treat.”

Pinching off a tiny fragment of the cream bread with his fingers, Wonhee handed a piece barely larger than a crumb over to her.

“T-Thank you!”

Watching his partner beam with joy, Wonhee smirked triumphantly and pulled a few more cream breads out of his bag. Seeing her get a taste, the other children who had been watching in envy began drooling over the pastries—including his partner, who wanted more.

“Who wants a cream bread right now?!”

At Wonhee’s shout, the kids went wild, swarming his desk and raising their hands frantically. Wonhee spread his hands wide, motioned for them to quiet down, and lowered his voice slyly.

“Who’s gonna carry my backpack when we go home today?” [[[[[Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!]]]]]

Amidst the fierce bidding war, Wonhee picked a heavy-set, naive-looking boy.

“You carry my bag later. When we get to my house, I’ll give you a cream bread.” “Awesome! Thank you!”

Watching the boy bow repeatedly as if he had received a massive favor, Wonhee grinned in victory.

“Wonhee! I’ll sharpen your pencils for you!” “Wonhee! I’ll do your cleaning duty for you!” [[[Wonhee! Wonhee! Wonhee!]]]

Watching Wonhee revel in his explosive popularity, Yoongi let out an irritated monologue.

Little brat, learning all the worst tricks at such a young age… <Aren’t a brat little you yourself?>

Yoongi snapped back at the snickering spirit in his mind.

Quiet! What are you, a ghost? Reading people’s thoughts like that? <I a actually. am ghost,> Just quiet down. I’m getting annoyed.

Watching his classmates act so subservient over something so minor reminded Yoongi bitterly of his own past self, leaving him thoroughly uncomfortable. He stood up from his desk.

“Yoongi, where are you going?” “Stay right here.”

Without asking further questions, Jinsu nodded obediently and waited in his seat. Yoongi walked straight out toward the faculty room.

“Oh, Yoongi! What’s the matter?”

Park Sunja welcomed him as if he were her own son—or perhaps even higher status than that.

“Teacher, may I make a quick phone call?” “Of course! Go right ahead.”

If any other kid had asked, they would have earned a slap across the cheek, but Park Sunja granted Yoongi absolute VIP treatment.

“Thank you.”

Yoongi immediately dialed the Go club where his driver was instructed to wait.

[Young master, is everything alright?]

Hearing the driver’s prompt response over the line, Yoongi spoke calmly.

“Mister, please fetch 500 pastries before the next recess.”