Okcheon County Office, second floor, Education and Culture Division.
“Huh? Principal! What brings you here in person?”
Go Gilyeong, an administrative officer in the county office’s education department, greeted Principal Kim Jaehyeong with a startled expression.
“Listen here, how long has it been since I submitted that budget request? Why haven’t I heard anything yet?”
Jaehyeong strode into the office and slapped the desk.
“Ah, that matter? It’s still under review, so…”
“Review? Didn’t you tell me a week ago to wait just three days?”
His voice was so robust it rang all the way down the corridor, as if he had swallowed the boiler of a locomotive.
Hearing the commotion, employees from the neighboring office began stepping out one by one and poking their heads in.
“Principal, please lower your voice.”
“No, does this make any sense? Is this how you treat a treasure of our Okcheon County? Look at this!”
Thwack.
As if he had come fully prepared, newspaper clippings spilled out of Jaehyeong’s bag.
Most were local papers, and the ones circled in red marker were national dailies.
Even printed online articles—perhaps prepared by a subordinate—had been marked with highlighter.
[Okcheon Today]
—Fifth grader at Okcheon Dodam Elementary wins grand prize at National Mathematics Competition. A triumph by a rural school student over seniors from prestigious schools!
[Gojoseon Ilbo]
—Elementary student ranks first nationwide across elementary, middle, and high school without private tutoring; a math genius blooms in the countryside.
“Look at this! Transfer inquiries started coming in last month.”
The principal’s expression could not have been more serious.
“Pardon?”
The officer could not understand why this man had come to him instead of going to the Office of Education.
“I’m talking about after Yu Seoha, the pride of our Dodam Elementary, Class 1 of fifth grade, won the grand prize at the National Mathematics Competition! Would you believe nearby schools are saying they want to transfer students here? We’re even getting inquiry calls from Yeongdong and Geumsan!”
“Really?”
As if hearing it for the first time, the officer’s eyes went round.
“Our country is a nation of education. If they hear there’s a good educational environment, parents are ready to move anywhere for their children.
What’s Okcheon’s population now? Around forty thousand? They go on about the crisis of local extinction and whatnot, but how much budget is being poured into this area? And has pouring in all that money actually produced any results?”
Frustrated, Jaehyeong thumped his chest.
“And yet!”
“They say a student who raised the honor of our Okcheon like this can’t attend competitions because there’s no money! Do you think that makes any sense?”
Of course, this was an exaggeration.
After the articles came out, the principal belatedly noticed Seoha’s existence and hurried to the classroom to meet him. For a moment, he had thought the boy would be brimming with pride at having his face appear even in a national newspaper at such a young age.
What he encountered was an ordinary child wearing an expression of utter annoyance. In a rural area where the only newsworthy stories were about “wild boar sightings,” local reporters starved for material had already harassed Seoha to their hearts’ content after a nationwide genius appeared.
Seoha blinked as he looked at the principal, who had come to find him and immediately told him to participate in another competition.
“Pardon? A competition?”
“Yes! I looked into it, and even in North Chungcheong alone, they say there are math competitions every month. There are plenty over in North Gyeongsang and South Chungcheong too. Since you’ve already started, wouldn’t it be best to enter them all and win prizes? It would also bring honor to our school.”
The principal wanted something from him.
Realizing this, Seoha’s eyes sparkled.
First, he controlled his expression, then put on a gloomy look and answered politely.
“Well, for now, I’ve decided not to participate in city or provincial competitions. There is a national competition next month, but that’s a bit…”
‘City- and provincial-level competitions don’t even have prize money.’
When Seoha looked hesitant, the principal grew anxious.
“What’s the reason? Is there some problem?”
Seoha recalled a conversation he had recently had with Uhyeon.
—Why are you refusing when I’m saying I’ll give you a scholarship? I’m Shin Uhyeon. Sponsoring one or two people won’t even scratch my bank balance!
Uhyeon had absolutely no intention of demanding anything from Seoha under the pretext of sponsorship. However, the stubborn couple had refused the money he offered several times.
“My parents say they won’t accept it. They say they’re grateful enough that you’re sending me books and papers.”
That had been the will of both parents.
—Still, studying takes money, doesn’t it? Going around to competitions is only possible for well-off families. Travel expenses, lodging, you can’t take those lightly. Later on, you might have to participate in competitions overseas. What are you going to do then?
“I’ll think about that when the time comes. My parents must have their own plans.”
In truth, Seoha knew.
His father had recently put the ancestral mountain land, handed down for generations, on the real estate market.
No matter how grateful he was, Uhyeon was an outsider, and his father believed that he should educate his children with his own money.
Supporting a family of four on a civil servant’s salary was already no easy task, and when Seoha, followed by the second child, began showing talent in studying, he had made a major decision.
—Then let’s look into a national scholarship later. Surely they won’t object to that.
“Is there anything besides prize money?”
—To be honest, right now you should think of it as nearly impossible. Corporate scholarships are money that people who want to become scholars should absolutely never accept, and even those aren’t given to elementary school students. Much less would the government or a local authority hand out scholarships to an individual with no results yet.
“Aw, then it won’t work anyway.”
—But if you take first place at the Olympiad next year, there’ll be ways. Just hold out until then.
Seoha loved his parents.
His father worked diligently at his job every single day, like an ox. As if that were not enough, the couple also tended a fairly large vegetable garden, saying they could only feel at ease if they grew what their children ate themselves. All the food that went into his and his younger sibling’s mouths had gone through that process.
Because he respected the wishes of those two, he had kept his mouth shut, but Seoha did not want his family to struggle because of him. He had thought winning first place and bringing home prize money was the best he could do, but…
What if there was another way?
“Why not the competition next month?”
For the first time in his career as principal, Dodam Elementary had been reported on in the media. He did not want this matter to end as a one-off.
“I have a young sibling. I can go alone, but my parents won’t allow it. Then the whole family would have to travel the day before, and prices in Seoul are expensive…”
Seoha trailed off subtly.
“What? If that was the situation, you should have said so sooner! Wait just a few days. I’ll find a way.”
After returning to his office, the principal immediately called in the administrative manager.
“Manager Kim, how much contingency fund does our school have left?”
“Contingency fund? Just a moment.”
The manager rummaged through the documents, then made a troubled expression.
“Principal, we had additional heating and cooling expenses this month, and the restroom repair costs went out as well. You should consider there to be no contingency fund left. Even if there were, there are plenty of places for money to go.”
“Then is there anything we can take from another item and use?”
“The budget sent down from the Office of Education all has designated uses. It’s difficult to change arbitrarily. But what is this about?”
The principal explained the situation. But after hearing it, the administrative manager practically jumped out of his seat.
“Absolutely not. Supporting an individual student with the school budget? That would be a serious problem. It could get flagged in an audit. If another parent files a complaint with the Office of Education saying it’s unfair, people could lose their jobs one after another.”
Hearing it, he was right.
Ugh.
Nothing was easy.
Jaehyeong let out a deep sigh. No matter how he thought about it, there was no way.
At that moment, the phone in the principal’s office rang.
Ring, ring, ring.
“Yes, this is Dodam Elementary School.”
—Hello. I’m calling because I’d like to transfer my child to your school.
A total of 120 students.
Dodam Elementary was relatively better off. After all, forty percent of elementary schools in North Chungcheong had sixty students or fewer.
Rural elementary schools were, quite literally, fighting a war against closure. And yet, at a time like this, a transfer?
The principal’s eyes flashed open.
“Yes… yes! Where would you be coming from?”
—From Yeongdong. We’re not far from Okcheon, you see. I saw it in the newspaper, and they said there’s a student named Yu Seoha there? My child likes math too… Could I possibly find out which teacher that student is learning from? We could move there, and the child’s father can drive a little farther to commute.
It was not just one call.
As many as three people had inquired about transferring.
The principal made up his mind.
No matter what happened, he would send Seoha to competitions.
* * *
Okcheon’s population was on a steep decline.
It had barely maintained itself as a bedroom community for Daejeon, but only for a while.
Severe population outflow over the past ten years.
No matter how much budget was poured in, no solution appeared.
And yet, population inflow?
“Listen, do you think I’m doing this just to save my own skin? Think about what it means when a parent says they’ll transfer their child. It means they’re moving here.”
At the principal’s point, the officer’s eyes widened.
In rural areas, a considerable portion of local government budgets was spent on attracting residents. According to a recent government survey, the cost a local government spent to attract one resident ranged from at least twenty million won to as much as forty million won.
But an entire family would move in? Without investing any special costs?
He immediately reported this to the division chief.
And thirty minutes later, Principal Kim Jaehyeong met the county governor for the first time in his life.
* * *
The following week,
Seoha was startled when he went to school.
[Dodam Elementary School, taking a new leap forward as a prestigious school of mathematics]
[Yu Seoha, Class 1 of fifth grade, wins grand prize at National Mathematics Competition]
Banners were hanging gaudily at the school gate.
It was embarrassing. Since this was a small rural town, rumors had probably spread throughout the entire county.
And since when had Dodam Elementary been a prestigious school of mathematics?
To find out the truth, Seoha ran to the teachers’ office. But what he found was his homeroom teacher, wearing an expression as if she had attained enlightenment.
She sat at her desk, clutching at her hair.
“T-Teacher?”
He asked what had happened, but Yunmi’s face flushed red as she quietly turned her head away and avoided his gaze.
“Haa… I’m losing my mind too.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know the details. Apparently there’s a rumor going around that a teacher at our school who graduated from a science high school teaches math incredibly well. I heard there were quite a few transfer inquiries.
It’s all thanks to you winning the grand prize, of course. I didn’t go around saying this, all right?”
Seeing Yunmi clench her molars as if wronged, Seoha decided to drop his suspicion.
“What’s this about support funds?”
The night before, Cheolho had come home from work and happily shared the news with the family.
A new ordinance had been passed by the county, and Seoha was apparently one of the beneficiaries.
“It’s called the Ordinance on the Development and Support of Outstanding Talent in Okcheon County. They say it passed the county council yesterday.”
Cheolho continued his explanation.
“I looked at the contents of the ordinance, and it says students who win awards at national-level academic competitions designated by the county will receive support of two to ten million won per year.”
Miyeong’s face brightened.
She, too, had been worrying a lot about the children’s education.
“Seoha won the grand prize, so that means ten million won, right?”
“Yeah! They’re applying it retroactively, so this year’s recipients will get it deposited right away too. But there’s a rule that if you receive the support funds, you have to participate in competitions consistently.”
After hearing the explanation, Miyeong tilted her head.
“That’s rather strange. It’s not exactly prize money…”
“Whatever it is, it’s fortunate for us.”
Seeing the two of them smile made Seoha feel good as well.
Perhaps Seoeun also sensed the family’s bright mood, because she shrieked happily and ran around the yard.
‘Surely this isn’t the butterfly effect of the principal, is it?’
Seoha had no way of knowing the circumstances of the adults.