At the same time, at the airport.
Jo Soo-deok picked up the receiver to make a report before leaving London.
Was it because he was about to speak with Chairman Park Yong-hak?
His eyes subtly wavered.
'It'd be better if he doesn't pick up. Just let the ringing continue…'
Unfortunately, Jo Soo-deok's wish did not come true.
Click.
"Chairman, I hope you're in good health. This is Jo, Jo Soo-deok."
(What's going on?)
"I have something to report… otherwise I wouldn't dared to call you."
(…)
"May I speak, sir?"
(Go ahead.)
Jo Soo-deok took a small deep breath and opened his mouth.
"It seems there was some commotion at the young master's school."
He quickly briefed about the summons by the second-year students and the referral to the disciplinary committee.
(So, you're saying the friend who visited Korea fought on Ji-hoon's behalf?)
"Yes, sir."
(Four people ended up hospitalized?)
"Yes."
Jo Soo-deok quickly added.
"It seems the second-year side has already hired a lawyer."
(Why would a lawyer get involved in a kid's fight?)
"Since they're from wealthy families, they seem to be sensitive about such matters."
It might be absurd, but that's just how things are here.
Sure enough, Chairman Park promptly responded.
(Then Professor Jo should find a lawyer, shouldn't he?)
"…Me, sir?"
(If that friend fought for Ji-hoon, we should handle the legal side, shouldn't we?)
"That's correct."
(No matter the cost, get the best lawyer. Understood?)
"Chair… Chairman, but there's a bit of a problem."
(…?)
"Among the second-year group… one of the parents runs the top law firm in London. So, it's practically impossible to find someone better in the UK…"
(Then get one from New York, can't you?)
"Sorry?"
(Aren't you heading to New York right now?)
"Oh, I never mentioned that…"
At this point, Jo Soo-deok quickly glanced around.
In the middle of the airport.
There wasn't anyone around who looked Korean.
Gulp.
He hadn't even booked a flight to Korea…
He bought a ticket from an American airline, but how did he know?
And then.
(Hey, didn't you mention it earlier?)
"Sorry?"
(Think about it. How would I know if you didn't say anything? Isn't that right?)
What more could he say in this situation?
"That's right. Maybe I'm getting old and starting to forget things lately…"
(You should cut down on drinking.)
"I'll keep that in mind."
Even after finishing the call.
Jo Soo-deok kept glancing around the airport for a while.
***
Each subject's orientation was different.
But if there was one thing in common, it was that the goals for the semester were clearly set.
'Yesterday's economics was practical investing.'
Today, the situation was similar.
"People often think of math as something detached from everyday life. As if adding and subtracting is enough, and nothing more is necessary. But that's not quite the case."
"…?"
"Solving real-life problems using math—this semester, we'll focus on experiencing the effectiveness of math firsthand."
This is a learning objective that's hard to imagine in Korea.
"Don't think about asking me for answers. You'll think it through yourselves, come up with solutions, and teach me in return. Got it?"
Hmm.
Even putting math aside… the political class was truly unusual.
"If you're attending a royal school, whether you become a political leader or use political leaders, your life will inevitably be closely tied to politics."
"..."
"To do that, you need to know what politics is, but no amount of theoretical talk will really sink in, will it?"
Huh.
I heard something similar during the economics class…
"So, what we're going to do is experience working on an election campaign during summer break. Even a regional committee chairman election is fiercely competitive."
Oh.
"Seeing firsthand how party organizations are formed and how policies are made will give you a completely different perspective on politics."
Regional committee chairman, or party chapter chairman.
The titles vary by party, but it's a position that can even lead to a parliamentary nomination.
At an age where most people are worrying about student council elections… they're telling us to experience a regional committee chairman election.
'Elite schools really are different.'
Just as this cultural shock continued, the third class of the day awaited us.
Physical education!
Every subject had a clear goal, but still…
'What could be special about PE?'
But since PE was my favorite class, I gladly headed to the field.
"You've heard of 'noble sports,' right? Actually, that's a completely wrong term."
This was the first time a class was conducted in informal speech.
'Not that I mind.'
Though it was PE, suddenly it felt like a theory class…
"There's no such thing as a noble sport. Originally, all sports belonged to nobles."
Just as question marks started to float above the students' heads, the teacher added an explanation.
"In the past, most people worked physical labor jobs, so after finishing work, they were too exhausted to do anything but sleep. But what about the nobles? They didn't work, so they were always short on physical activity. Sports were created to get nobles to move, at least a little."
I'd read something similar in a book.
"So, as descendants of nobles, you should be proficient in sports. To fulfill your social responsibilities, a healthy body is essential, right?"
"Yes!"
Jack was the only one who responded loudly.
At that, the teacher smiled.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself."
He unzipped his jacket.
Underneath, a short-sleeved shirt with the British royal crest stretched over his bulging chest muscles.
"It's pretty old, isn't it?"
Murmurs spread through the class.
"My name is Devon. As you can see, I'm a graduate of this royal school."
"O- Oh!"
So that's why he was speaking casually.
"I'm noble, but I was quite a rebel. In this day and age, what's the point of talking about status, right? So I didn't study and just played rugby all the time. Somehow, I got into Oxford, but my rebellious streak kicked in again…"
He smiled like a mischievous kid.
"So I insisted and insisted until I ran off to Stanford in the U.S. Of course, I didn't study there either—just played rugby. I climbed to 5th place in the national individual rankings! My friends would say, 'You only like rugby because you're a noble,' and that rebellious streak kicked in again…"
This guy.
He's my kind of person.
"So I thought, 'Ah, in America, it's football, right?' So I immediately started preparing for the NFL draft. Since I was a defender, rugby and American football were similar enough. After a year of hard work, I proudly got picked in the third round."
Wait, what?
A rugby player prepared for just a year and got drafted into the NFL?
No wonder his arms were as big as some people's thighs.
And that short neck with a massive, square jaw…
He had the perfect build for a strongman!
"Unfortunately, the contract didn't go through. As you know, in noble society, making a living through sports is taboo. But oddly enough, being a PE teacher is fine, isn't it?"
So, to sum it up…
He's a Stanford graduate and a beast who was even drafted into the NFL.
Every time I hear their introductions, I can't help but think…
'They're all way overqualified to be high school teachers!'
Not that I mind.
It was while I was lost in these thoughts.
"It's my first year here, so I've kind of forgotten the system. I'm still figuring out how to run the classes. So, uh…"
"...?"
"Since it's the first day, how about we just do some basic fitness tests?"
Even though Devon said it casually, the fitness tests were closely tied to the semester's learning goals.
According to Devon:
"The goal is for every student to compete in a national-level sports competition."
It sounded impossible, but Devon quickly clarified.
"Based on the results, I'll recommend the sport best suited to each of you. You'll focus on that sport for at least three months. Got it?"
It sounded reasonable, but what he said next was downright absurd.
"The first test is: How many times can you bench 100 kilograms?"
"...!"
Not even at a sports academy, but benching 100 kilograms?
"Urrrgh…"
As expected, most of the students couldn't even lift the bar.
There were a few big guys, but even they could barely manage one shaky lift.
However, when Jack's turn came, the atmosphere shifted.
"Let's go!"
Jack easily lifted the 100 kilograms.
No surprise there, since I'd seen him lift more during regular workouts.
"One, two, three…"
He quickly passed ten reps.
But by the thirteenth rep, his arms started to shake.
"You could do two more, right?" Devon said.
Jack gritted his teeth.
And then.
Lift!
"One more."
His arms trembled…
"Can't do it?"
"Grr…"
Lift!
It seemed like he had reached his limit, but…
"Argh!"
Jack tried one more time, but…
"Ugh!"
He ended up getting pinned under the bar.
Yikes!
Good thing Devon was there to catch it.
But why did that guy lift 100 kilograms so effortlessly?
Next was Peter's turn.
"Sir, I can barely manage my own body weight…"
"Just give it a try."
"Yes, sir…"
Even his grip on the bar was off.
"Ugh! Uuugh! Urrrrrgh!"
"That's enough."
Of course, he couldn't lift any.
Next up…
There was a sudden commotion.
'Ahh.'
It was Tennessee Grosvenor, known as the noblest of the nobles.
Looking annoyed, he lay down on the bench and casually gripped the bar.
Had he been working out?
Even at a glance, his forearms were impressive.
"One, two, three… eight, nine, ten."
He effortlessly completed ten reps and sat up.
He could have done more, but he chose to stop.
As expected.
"Wow!"
The crowd erupted in admiration.
After a few more rounds of students failing to lift even one, it was my turn.
"Last one."
Ah, I was the last.
I carefully adjusted my grip.
Had I ever beaten Jack in benching?
'Don't think so…'
Alright, I'll aim for fifteen reps.
Here we go!
What's this? It feels lighter than usual.
One, two, three…
"Aren't you lifting with perfect form?"
Sorry, not exactly in a position to respond right now…
"Ten, eleven, tweeeelve…"
My arms started shaking.
"Thirteeeen…"
This is my limit.
But I gritted my teeth and lifted the bar again.
"Going for more?"
Grr…
"Fouuurteeen…"
One more and I'd probably get pinned under it.
Even though I knew that…
Brrrr. Brrrrrr.
I clenched my eyes shut and squeezed out all my strength.
Damn it.
I'm putting in all this effort, so why is the bar not moving?
Just then.
Swoosh.
The bar suddenly shot up.
When I opened my eyes, there was Devon, lifting the bar with one hand.
"Are you here to work out or what?"
"...?"
"Why are you following the perfect form when we're just measuring your reps?"
"..."
"Hurry and get up."
Ugh.
As I forced myself to stand up, someone in the group jokingly asked,
"How many can you do, sir?"
"We're curious!"
"What's your record?"
Soon, questions started flying from all directions.
Devon waited until the chatter died down before slowly speaking.
"In the NFL, they officially measure your strength before the draft. I think I lifted about 40 reps back then."
What? 40 reps?
That's 10 more than Jack and me combined…
"What's your 100-meter record?"
"They don't measure that. In rugby and football, it's the 40-yard (36.5-meter) dash that matters."
He told us his 40-yard time, but nobody seemed to really understand what it meant.
Maybe that's why Devon added,
"I think I measured my 100 meters back in my first year of university, and it was around 10.8 seconds."
At this point, I wasn't even surprised anymore.
"Since we're talking about it, why don't we go run 100 meters?"