I briefly explained the concept of the painting.
Since I even pinpointed the location that would serve as the background, he should be able to pack up his art supplies and move soon.
"How long will it take?"
(It should be done within a week.)
I checked the desk calendar.
A week.
That didn't seem too tight.
"Please take care of it."
***
A month later.
After finishing all my preparations, I flew to London for the interview.
Baker was waiting for me at the airport.
He had taken care of everything, from the admission documents for the royal school to the accommodation I'd be staying at for a while.
Despite this being a personal favor, he showed no signs of irritation.
The reason was simple.
"Do you know how much I'm getting paid?"
Indeed, the best motivation is a healthy bank account…
A Bentley limousine was parked in the lot.
"The interviews started yesterday. I went there to get a feel for the atmosphere, and guess what, everyone was arriving in Bentleys. So, I rented one too."
Since they also consider the parents' wealth, it wouldn't hurt to be well-prepared.
Anyway.
"The interviews started yesterday?"
"Yes. I heard there are over ten thousand applicants. The interviews alone will take about a week."
More than ten thousand applicants for 120 spots?
That's a competition ratio of about 100 to 1.
No, since nobles get admitted without an interview, the competition for the remaining spots would be around 150 to 1.
It's intense!
"Let's get in."
Baker and I sat side by side in the back seat.
"Where would you like to go? We can head to the accommodation first… or visit the royal school."
"Let's go to the school."
"I thought you'd say that."
The Bentley quickly picked up speed.
But inside the car, there wasn't a single sound.
Thanks to that, I quietly stared out the window in the peaceful silence.
"It looks more like a castle than a school."
"Well, it's a pride of England."
To my surprise, a large river ran through the school grounds.
At this scale, couldn't we even row boats during PE class?
That's not all.
On the wide lawn, several horses stood, fully equipped, awaiting their owners' commands.
Of course, sports like polo and horseback riding require horses.
Still, talking about nobles in the 21st century feels outdated.
Not many people would look at this positively.
Yet, strangely enough, as soon as people get wealthy, they start mimicking the nobility.
That's why there are over ten thousand applicants.
The parents accompanying them were all walking around with confident expressions.
As successful individuals in their respective fields, they probably couldn't even imagine their children failing.
Today, tomorrow, and the day after, more parents with the same expressions would gather.
Each one trying to confirm their specialness in this place.
"It's amusing."
"...?"
"I'm glad I came."
I started walking toward the parking lot.
"Y-you're leaving already?"
"I've seen enough."
Back at the accommodation, I unpacked and changed into my workout clothes.
Despite the long flight, I didn't feel tired.
Maybe it's because I'm still young.
It felt like the travel fatigue had already faded.
I laced up my shoes and stepped outside.
Tap tap tap!
True to London's nature, a light drizzle began, but I didn't mind.
"I might as well jog and explore the neighborhood."
The richest family in England is the Grosvenor family.
They own most of the prime land in London.
Maybe that's why.
I could spot the family crest everywhere I went.
If you compared it to Seoul, it would be like one family owning all of Gangnam district.
What's interesting is that the heir to this family is set to enroll in the royal school next year.
The reason there are so many applicants this year might have something to do with that.
A chance to become friends with the heir of Grosvenor!
With disclosed assets of around 20 trillion won, people must be thinking it's better than winning the lottery multiple times to form connections with the Duke's family.
But whether they do or not,
I don't care if I don't make friends. Just let me get in.
'I don't want a science high school ending!'
"To be precise, it's because I don't want to inherit the family business, hehe."
Wait a second.
Come to think of it, that friend from the Duke's family is also an heir, right?
I wonder if he's going through the same troubles as I am.
But that brief sense of kinship soon faded.
'Let's just focus on myself.'
I quickly picked up the pace.
Pababat!
I felt like I was completely focused on the tips of my feet.
'Good.'
Let's run even faster.
Pabababa!
Faster, faster, faster!
I was running so fast that my calves were starting to ache.
But what's this?
Pa-bat!
Someone overtook me, sprinting ahead.
I'm not a professional athlete, but when it comes to running, I can hold my own anywhere.
But the more I ran, the wider the distance between us grew.
"Ha!"
I was so shocked that I stopped in my tracks.
I stared blankly at the back of the person moving farther away.
A shiny green jacket, with a large grizzly bear wide-mouthed in the center.
'Is he an athlete?'
If he's into football… I'd want to recruit him with speed like that.
Unfortunately, my wish wasn't granted.
The man slipped into a massive mansion.
'Must be from a rich family.'
To live in a house that big in London… just how rich must he be?
Heh.
Maybe that's not something the third-generation heir of Hyungang should be saying.
'I guess I should head back too.'
The drizzle continued as my first day in London came to an end.
***
Jack entered the front hall and shook the raindrops off his coat.
From afar, he heard his mother's voice.
"Why are you exercising in the rain?"
"For a soldier, weather is irrelevant."
"Are you a soldier? You're still a student…"
A savory smell wafted through the air.
It seemed his mother was preparing dinner.
"Didn't you say you have an interview tomorrow? Are you prepared?"
"What's there to prepare? I won't pass anyway."
"Why wouldn't you?"
Though Jack had applied under pressure from his parents, he had consistently aspired to become a soldier, specifically in special forces.
You know, like the counter-terrorism agents from the movies.
Serving in the British SAS and dedicating himself to the country had been Jack's long-time dream.
"I'll go shower."
Jack headed to his room to grab some clothes.
But as soon as he saw the posters covering his walls, his heart started racing again.
Scenes of the SAS conducting operations during the Falklands War.
It was a sight he saw every time he entered his room, yet his heart still pounded every time.
Thump thump.
How could something make him so excited every time?
To calm his nerves, Jack started doing pull-ups.
Since regular pull-ups didn't feel challenging, he had to hang a 20-kilogram weight plate from his belt.
Only after completing three sets did he finally feel calm.
'Now that I think about it, the interview really is tomorrow.'
But Jack's ultimate goal was Sandhurst (the Royal Military Academy).
Everything before that, whether it be royal or public schools, was just a stepping stone.
Still, since he had to attend the interview,
"I'll just say whatever comes to mind and get it over with."
***
The next day, at the London Royal School.
"Is all of this your personal property?"
The preliminary interviewer asked in astonishment.
Honestly, I was surprised too.
It's just a high school entrance, yet they had a preliminary interview and a main one!
Even though they said it was a simple identity check with basic questions, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was excessive.
"Are you sure it's in pounds? Not in won?"
"It's definitely in pounds."
When they asked about my parents' assets, I said I didn't know.
Feeling it would be awkward to leave it at that, I converted my assets into pounds and wrote down an estimate.
I could understand why they were so shocked.
"Did you inherit it?"
"No. I earned it."
"Did you shine a billionaire's shoes every day or something?"
They asked, blending in some British humor, implying it had to be inheritance or gifts if not.
It wasn't exactly mockery, just that their imagination could only stretch that far.
"If you look at the documents, it explains how I earned it."
The interviewer finally started reviewing the attached documents.
But before he had even read three lines, he looked up.
"There seems to be something unsavory here."
"Da Vinci, you mean?"
"Did you really write that down knowing what it means?"
"There's no need to hide it. It's not like I did anything wrong."
Perhaps it came across as the typical arrogance of a rich kid.
The interviewer shook his head in disbelief.
"Yeah, more like, 'You'll fail, not me,' right?"
"One last thing to confirm. You listed three referees, but we only received two recommendation letters?"
"Yes."
"It wasn't something we missed, was it?"
"Of course not."
"Understood. That will be all."
He handed me a badge, indicating the end of the preliminary interview.
I guess this badge is what you need to enter the interview room.
'A lion with a crown, huh.'
I stared at the badge for a while.
It seemed like the interviews were conducted in groups of three students.
I glanced at the students assigned to my team.
The student on my left was a white guy with striking red hair.
He was quite good-looking, except for his long face.
He had been mumbling to himself for a while now, so I thought he was preparing for the interview.
"To be, or not to be, that is the question…"
What in the world?
He was reciting lines from Shakespeare's tragedy 'Hamlet'.
He continued to recite Hamlet's lines fluently.
Judging by the changing tones of his voice… was he preparing for a play?
Indeed, the script he occasionally pulled out was filled with his personal notes and interpretations.
Perhaps he sensed my gaze.
He turned to me and asked,
"Am I distracting you?"
"No. I'm just fascinated."
"Then, do you mind if I continue?"
"Not at all."
I then shifted my gaze to the other side.
The student on my right was a sturdy-built white guy.
Though his expression was extremely serious, he didn't seem intimidating at all; rather, he gave off a quirky impression.
But what was strange was how short he looked while sitting down.
Even considering my height,
'How could our shoulder heights be so different?'
Curious, I glanced downward.
'What on earth is this?'
I witnessed something astonishing.
The guy was sitting in mid-air!
He was in an invisible chair stance, like the kind of punishment we'd get in school…
But why?
He had been like that for about 30 minutes, yet there was no sign of fatigue.
Was he a gymnast or something?
How was he able to do that?
Just then,
"Benedict Hiddleston, Jack 'Tiger' Grylls, Ji-hoon Park."
An assistant looked our way and called out.
"You're next, so please get ready."