Seoha tucked the pamphlet into his back pocket and ran straight toward Building 4.
“Huh?”
As he followed the corridor, Seoha slowed his steps.
Long blackboards lined the walls one after another.
‘Did someone leave this half-solved?’
Traces as if someone had just erased something,
and beside them was a solution written using Maxwell’s equations.
[Do not erase.]
Every blackboard was filled with traces of problems being solved.
Post-its scrawled in a hurry, signs that a problem someone had left unfinished had been completed in a different handwriting. If someone stayed up all night writing a proof, someone else would come in the morning and add a counterexample.
Here, the boundary between classrooms and corridors was not clear.
Seoha’s steps grew slower and slower, until he stopped in front of an unfinished problem someone had left behind.
[Is this the right direction? If anyone sees this, try solving it.]
‘Design a restoration algorithm for noise and phase uncertainty.’
The problem caught his eye so much that he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.
Seoha picked up a piece of chalk.
It was the trace of someone who had gotten stuck while trying to introduce the Wirtinger derivative (*a method of differentiation for handling complex variables).
Seoha scanned the tangled arrows and erased symbols on the blackboard. Then he set the chalk against an empty space.
Scratch, scratch.
This person’s approach wasn’t wrong. They simply lacked a little experience.
If one separated a complex number into its real and imaginary components and tracked the changes, it was possible to capture not only the signal’s strength but also the fluctuations in its phase as equations.
“It should be solvable now.”
After giving only the necessary help, Seoha started running toward his destination again.
[Room 312]
When he entered the lecture room, the screen turned on.
The rope tying up the beaver had descended lower than before. Beside the pot, masked figures were chopping onions and potatoes.
The beaver was desperately twisting his body, trying to loosen the rope.
“Onions chopped!”
“Potatoes in!”
One of them stirred the soup with a ladle.
“Once the vegetables are cooked, we’ll put in the beaver, kuhaha!”
The beaver was tearfully emitting a speech bubble that said, ‘Help!’
[59:52]
The timer’s numbers ticked down, flashing red.
A new problem appeared on the screen.
A problem asking about a matrix algorithm.
It seemed the hackers wanted to know whether one understood the concept and could apply it, rather than perform complicated calculations.
Projection matrix.
“If the trace is 2, that means the matrix projects three-dimensional space onto a two-dimensional plane.”
The trace was the sum of the eigenvalues, and in this case the eigenvalues could only be 0 or 1, so the rank had no choice but to be 2.
Tatak, tadak.
When he entered the answer, the rope holding up the beaver rose.
And the number indicating the next destination was displayed.
* * *
“The answer is 52.”
When she entered the number, the beaver came back to life. The obnoxious thugs raged, saying they’d get her next time.
“Not much left now.”
A bar showing the stage progress, like in a game, appeared below. Now she only had to solve two more.
Eleanor was feeling a strange displeasure. She had thought she had arrived first, but whenever she went, there was always a student who had arrived before her.
The screen kindly counted which visitor she was.
[No. 002]
Ellie liked mathematics.
But that was less because she loved mathematics itself and more because she liked the clarity it possessed.
When Ellie went outside the building, the students around her began whispering.
“Is she someone’s girlfriend? Lucky guy.”
“She’s probably family. There was freshman orientation today.”
‘I’m a student at the same school as you, you losers!’
“Hmph!”
Ellie did not bother explaining.
After all, once today passed, everyone would know who the smartest person among the freshmen was.
Ellie had been good at everything since she was young.
Writing, math, art, debate, even singing. No matter what competition she entered, she won prizes, and the people around her took it for granted.
Ellie gradually came to think of herself as a person chosen by God.
Until that day.
The finals of the national debate competition.
The topic was, ‘Should justice be judged by outcome or intention?’
She confidently stepped onto the podium.
Dressed in a white blouse, her golden hair neatly tied back, Ellie began speaking with polished vocabulary.
“Justice always begins from good intentions.
Much of the outcome is influenced by luck and environment, but intention alone reveals the true nature of a human being.”
The audience cheered enthusiastically, and applause erupted at the end of every sentence.
Like a skilled orator, Ellie captivated the audience and made the debate hall her own.
But when her opponent’s first words came out, she had no choice but to break into a cold sweat.
“Intention always becomes a tool for rationalization.
Therefore, only the outcome is the sole evidence by which human choice can be verified. If justice is judged by intention, then every act of violence in the world could be given absolution.”
A Black boy whom even empty flattery could hardly call handsome.
But no matter how hard she tried, she could not break his logic.
During the debate, Ellie acknowledged her own defeat. And she offered praise that came sincerely from the heart.
‘You’re incredibly smart. Let’s do this again someday. Next time, I’ll win.’
The result came quickly.
“The winner is Eleanor Windsor!”
Ellie thought she must have misheard.
But everyone’s eyes were on her.
Waaaaah!
Clap, clap, clap!
The audience burst into cheers, and the host approached with a satisfied smile, holding out the microphone.
However, Eleanor’s gaze was directed below the stage.
That boy was calmly gathering his things, and without making any objection, he quietly walked out.
‘Why? Hurry up and object! We both know you won!’
But he already wore an expression of resignation.
Eleanor slowly looked around the audience. Everyone was satisfied with the result.
‘Are you really okay with me winning?’
After coming down from the stage, Ellie headed straight for the judges’ table.
“May I see the score sheet? I think my opponent won.”
The chairperson wore an awkward expression.
“Miss Eleanor, the judging cannot be overturned. Your debate was excellent. You fully deserved to win.”
On the way home with the trophy,
the cold metallic feel against her hand felt indescribably unpleasant.
Clang!
Ellie threw it into a trash can.
When she returned home, her family was preparing a celebration party. Ellie used the excuse that she was feeling ill, went into her room, and locked the door.
When she lay down on her bed, she saw the trophies and certificates decorating the entire wall. Ellie examined them one by one.
Debate, writing, art, music…
An unknowable sadness and guilt seized her.
She was not some chosen human being, but the product of the bias this world had created.
She had not realized it until now, but she must have been walking more comfortably than others along a slope the world had tilted in advance.
Riiiip.
Ellie mercilessly tore up a certificate.
[Grand Prize in Essay Writing]
[Top Prize in Choral Competition]
[Grand Prize in Poster Design, Youth Arts Festival]
Each time the paper tore, she felt a sense of pleasure.
‘Isn’t it insane that they cheer for me just because I’m white and pretty?’
[Grand Prix, International Youth Humanities Debate]
There had been many outstanding children in this competition as well. She had thought she’d won because she was lucky, but had she been too naive?
Ellie threw the trophies into a box so they would be out of sight.
“Huh?”
Just as she was about to tear up the final certificate, Ellie’s hand hesitated.
[Gold Prize, Youth Mathematics Competition]
Had someone else’s goodwill intervened here too?
Ellie shook her head.
No. This alone was a result earned purely through her own achievement.
It was the moment Ellie opened her eyes to the charm of a world where black and white, right and wrong answers were clear.
After that day, Eleanor no longer showed her face at debate competitions or arts festivals.
Instead, she picked up mathematics books and headed to the library.
Mathematics did not flatter anyone, nor did it give extra points for being pretty. That was why she could hold her head high about the results.
“You must be happy, Ellie. Everyone adores you.”
Seeing a teacher excessively congratulate Ellie for winning a math competition, a friend spoke enviously.
Had the girl she’d thought of as a friend actually wanted to insult her?
But now she could say this.
“If you’re annoyed, then you get a perfect score too.”
The girl bit her lip hard and returned to her seat.
Only then was Ellie able to completely free herself from the guilt that she had taken away someone else’s opportunity.
Mathematics, which she had chosen after throwing everything else away.
Here, at least, Ellie did not want to lose to anyone.
* * *
“Entropy, don’t you think the problems were too hard? Fewer kids are passing than expected…”
They had thought at least half the freshmen would participate, but the students gave up on the game too easily.
Only a few dozen were taking it seriously.
Even fewer students were breaking through the gates.
“It can’t be helped. The math department isn’t interested in our project… so we have to choose from among the freshmen. If they won’t be immediate assets, then there’s no point.”
“Entropy’s right about that.”
Cipher Fox nodded.
“But the kid in the lead is pretty fast, isn’t he?”
The third gate had already been cleared.
Root looked at the clock.
“It’s only been twenty minutes, but he’s already at the fourth?”
They called it hacking, but they still had to fit the purpose of orientation. They had designed the route of the problems so the freshmen would tour all the buildings on campus.
‘I thought it would take four hours to finish…’
They had set the difficulty to match the orientation schedule.
“Huh? The fifth one’s already been breached too?”
Entropy looked at the screen and sprang to his feet.
“Huh? Then don’t we need to get ready too?”
It was too fast. Far too fast.
As if problems of that level were nothing but child’s play, the challenger was breaking through the gates without hesitation. At this rate, they might arrive at the final gate within thirty minutes.
For the first time in a while, Entropy felt his heart race.
He had a premonition that something tremendous was approaching.
“Let’s start getting ready!”
To set up the final stage, the three of them hurriedly rose from their seats.
* * *
“Wow! This is amazing.”
It was a high-quality production that had taken an enormous amount of effort, and before he knew it, Seoha had become absorbed in the game.
Each time he found an answer, a carefully prepared animation played, and it told him a new path.
Seeing that every problem dealt with a different theme, it was clear how much thought had gone into making it.
[Would you like to proceed to the next stage?]
A game-like amusement.
Yet its depth was by no means shallow.
[In any arbitrary closed system, no complete solution exists.]
“This is quoting Gödel’s incompleteness theorem.”
Seoha thought for a moment, then began solving the problem fiercely.
It was a fairly difficult problem, but Seoha was able to solve it in thirty minutes.
[This is the final gate. Please come to Room 203, Building 2.]
As he was leaving the building, someone called out to Seoha.
“Hey! You’re number one, aren’t you?”
Nod.
“You just wait! I’ll be there soon.”
Ellie looked at Seoha, burning with fighting spirit.
‘Does that person like beavers too?’
Seoha tilted his head, then headed for the final stage.