Chapter 280

After arriving at the mansion and completing their final training and recovery sessions, Jin Hyuk and Jin Seon-kyu rested in their room.

The preparation for the competition was flawless, but the biggest advantage was having a separate accommodation. Free from the unnecessary noise and friction of the bustling athletes’ village, it was a true rest.

They weren’t just lazing around. They checked if any studs were broken or needed replacement, and inspected their spikes for any issues.

“Senior, wear my spikes. They were custom-made for my feet, so they haven’t stretched much.”

“Then I can’t accept them out of guilt. You wear them.”

“You said these shoes are good, right? But they’re torn and you can’t wear them. Please, just do as I say.”

Jin Hyuk, offering his spikes, almost pleaded as he handed them over, but Jin Seon-kyu couldn’t bring himself to take them. Unable to find the right words to refuse, he just sat on the sofa, massaging his tired feet.

After the semifinals, Jin Seon-kyu’s “Taeguk King Feet” had reverted to just “King Feet.”

His damn big feet had finally torn the spikes.

The material itself was elastic, so the upper part covering the instep was fine. But the part where the sole was glued had come apart. It was the area that bent a lot when he sat down after a race.

“From now on, I should just lie down to save my shoes,” Jin Seon-kyu muttered as Jin Hyuk insisted, pushing his shoes forward.

“You know, right? I set the Korean record even without these shoes.”

So, lighten up a bit.

Jin Seon-kyu shook his head with a serious expression.

“It’s the finals. That’s not it.”

“I have many more opportunities. But—”

How many more chances will you get?

Jin Hyuk swallowed his words.

Hmm—.

Jin Seon-kyu’s brow furrowed deeply as a long, thin breath escaped his nose.

Opportunity.

Jin Seon-kyu might have at least one or two more Olympic chances.

By then, he’d be thirty-one, thirty-five.

He, Jin Hyuk, and the coaching staff all knew.

That Jin Seon-kyu’s prime was right now.

Seeing him conflicted, Jin Hyuk drove the point home.

“I can compete four or five more times.”

“You brat—. I can’t refuse because it’s for my own good. I’m ashamed. As a senior, I’m just a burden.”

Jin Seon-kyu respectfully accepted the spikes with both hands.

“One race left.”

Jin Hyuk, sitting across from Jin Seon-kyu, made small talk to ease the tension.

Jin Seon-kyu, who performs best when he’s in high spirits, couldn’t be left to run in such a down mood. They didn’t go through the nail-biting semifinal tightrope act just to see him shrink now.

“Whoa—, I never expected to run this much in Atlanta······.”

“Can you keep up with me?”

Jin Hyuk changed the subject again, worried about Jin Seon-kyu’s sentimental mood.

That cocky brat—.

Jin Seon-kyu couldn’t even scold him in his mind.

He gave me shoes, corrected my posture, took care of my nutrition and training.

On top of that, he’s a talent who plays with 1/100th of a second. It’s foolish to argue.

No, at this point, isn’t he the absolute ruler of the track?

Jin Seon-kyu knew Jin Hyuk was holding back.

Fredericks and Ato Boldon had given their all to warm up before the finals.

You can tell if a runner has given their all or saved energy for the next race just by checking their breathing right after the race. That’s why records improve through the rounds—qualifiers, quarterfinals, semifinals. It’s about elevating performance to match the high-level competitors, a superhuman level of control.

“Have I reached that level too?”

You see what you know.

In track and field, athletes who set world records are said to have entered the realm of time and speed.

A realm where everything seems to stand still as they run.

As Jin Seon-kyu gained the insight to gauge foreign athletes’ conditions and abilities, he began to see Jin Hyuk’s true capabilities.

During domestic competitions, he thought Jin Hyuk’s explosiveness came solely from his height and strength.

But in the semifinals, Jin Hyuk started late yet overtook the American hothead Jonathan, Canada’s weasel Surin, and Jamaica’s Michael Green in an instant. It felt like he could have passed Christie but chose not to.

“Like when adults play with kids.”

You’re no longer my match.

Jin Hyuk’s race strategy left Jin Seon-kyu with an uneasy question.

And now, Jin Hyuk was indirectly answering that question.

“Hey, I’m planning to run even faster than before. Can you keep up?”

“I’ll chase you with all I’ve got. Like you said, when will I ever get this chance again? It might never come.”

Jin Seon-kyu’s eyes shone too intensely.

This seriousness doesn’t suit this senior.

Jin Hyuk sat up and loaded his rapid-fire chatter.

“Take a nap for an hour and a half, wake up, warm up, eat, go to the stadium, and warm up again. If you can’t sleep, just lie down and close your eyes. Don’t cross your legs—. Don’t lie on your side either—. Don’t sleep on your stomach······.”

Use a neck pillow, place a soft pillow under your knees—, don’t let your feet be higher than your heart—.

Blah blah— yadda yadda— tutututut—!

With each piece of nagging, it felt like his body was being forced to lie down.

Using the long nagging as a lullaby, Jin Seon-kyu lay down as instructed, closing his eyes like Dracula in a coffin, hands clasped over his stomach.

“This kid just can’t stand to see me excited.”

His ability and mentality are inhuman.

How cold-blooded do you have to be to plan to match Linford’s speed at the finish line?

Still curious and unable to believe he made it to the finals, Jin Seon-kyu was too excited to sleep, even with his eyes closed.

Noticing Jin Seon-kyu’s uneven breathing, Jin Hyuk gestured toward the door.

Creak—.

Yoo Jin, peeking through the crack, entered like a sneaky cat. She gently placed her hand on Jin Seon-kyu’s forehead.

“Good dog.”

Kaaah—.

“Yoo Jin, can you check if this uncle has any pain?”

“Sure—, hehe—.”

Jin Seon-kyu would give his all in the finals.

His shoe condition was almost 100%.

He had set a personal best in the qualifiers, when his spikes were almost new.

Taking care of his senior seemed to be mostly done.

“There’s still work to do.”

Jin Hyuk rummaged through his bag and pulled out a thick, heavy object, shaking it up and down.

Click—click—clickclickclick—.

“Where should I use this?”

Hehe—.

Let’s get into the school trip mood.

***

Tap tap tap—.

Among the athletes warming up, Jin Hyuk and Jin Seon-kyu did their own stretches.

Lightly—.

Before the final race, they hopped lightly on the track like kangaroos.

Well-formed muscles made them look even more like kangaroos.

One two— jump—, one two— jump—.

Taking two big steps, then pushing off with one foot and jumping, lifting the other knee high.

It was a warm-up move that gave a momentary feeling of floating.

“I didn’t realize before, but mass-produced shoes have less pressure on the instep.”

The spikes my dad made gripped the instep perfectly without laces. Oh well.

It’s annoying, but I’ll have to adapt.

Jin Hyuk rummaged through his bag and pulled out spare soccer shoe laces. He tied the spike shoes’ soles and insteps with the longer soccer laces, knotting them like old-school soccer shoes.

“Better. I hope they can withstand my power.”

Shoes breaking wasn’t new.

When sprinting at full power, studs often broke, spike uppers tore, or laces snapped.

[Ladies and gentlemen, the men’s 100m final race will begin shortly.]

Roar— whoosh—.

The crowd was so dense, it could’ve been 85,000 or more. It was a sight unseen even at domestic or Asian competitions.

[Lane 1, Michael Marsh, USA—.]

The ace of the U.S. team, who would also compete in the 200m, raised his hand.

Hey, don’t forget to order my dad’s running shoes later.

***

The phrase “a tightly drawn bowstring” is cliché.

But it’s too weak to describe the tension of an Olympic 100m final.

[Bang—!]

The term “human bullet” seems more fitting.

For those watching from afar, the sight of the athletes bursting forward arrives before the sound of the gun.

[Bang— bang—!]

The 36-year-old veteran in Lane 2, unable to hide his impatience, bowed his head deeply.

First false start.

Son Jin-hyeok had warned him, and though he acknowledged it, his anxiety made his feet leave the blocks. He couldn’t immediately accept and apply advice like Jin Seon-kyu.

“Sorry.”

Christie, returning to the starting blocks while looking at the track, moved his lips.

An apology to his competitors and a greeting to the track.

Showing impatience in a retirement race—unprofessional.

After years of glory on the red track, Linford Christie fondly recalled what his young friend had said.

– “If you start late, you have a goal. Don’t you feel the desire to catch up? That’s why I sometimes start late. If I always lead, I might fall into a rut.”

Deliberately starting late isn’t uncommon.

Athletes confident in their acceleration, perverts who enjoy overtaking, often do that. But starting late for motivation? That kid’s got a bit of a pervert streak.

But would anyone deliberately start late in an Olympic tournament?

“Absolutely not.”

Whoosh—.

Taking a deep breath, Christie raised his hand toward Ato Boldon in Lane 3, who was unusually heaving his chest. Sorry again.

Even with a late start, a 0.05-second difference, Christie’s signature mid-race acceleration could recover it. Why rush?

Maybe it’s the desire to make the last race spectacular.

– “What if I come last? I’ll retire with a spectacular last place, shining for the juniors.”

It was an astonishing idea for a young kid.

Rather than being disqualified for false starts, retiring after finishing and hugging teammates would be several times more glorious.

Hold on, hold on.

For a glorious last place.

Linford Christie in Lane 2 kept muttering.

Hold on, hold on.

He pressed his feet hard against the starting blocks.

[On your mark.]

24-year-old Ato Boldon in Lane 3, full of vigor, felt his forehead burn.

Tyrant.

A nickname earned for resembling an African ostrich stomping the earth.

Damn it.

Trinidad and Tobago is a small island nation off South America, but they call me African, an ostrich. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see an ostrich turning its head here and there. But I look more like a hippo······.

The old man to his left committed a foul, disrupting Boldon’s rhythm, making him move his lips.

Damn it.

[Get set.]

Donovan Bailey, though emotionally volatile, is generally easygoing.

And he likes to mimic others, similar to Jin Seon-kyu.

He heard the ostrich in Lane 3 grumbling, but seeing the calm demeanor of the strong competitors in Lanes 4 and 5, Bailey tried not to show his discomfort. And Canada is a big country, right? Can’t act petty like an islander.

[Bang—!]

Nice!

Usually not a fast starter, but this time the start was good.

[Bang—!]

Oh, shit!

Was it me?

[False start, Lane 3.]

The grumbling ostrich had committed the foul.

「React. 0.081」

Seeing Boldon’s reaction time on the board, Bailey’s judgment twisted. The adult grumbled over a foul, and the kid’s no different.

Dennis Mitchell in Lane 4 and Fredericks in Lane 5 just placed their hands on their hips, heaving their chests, not showing any emotional disturbance. But Bailey could no longer imitate their sportsmanship. His rhythm and focus were gone—what’s the big deal about the Code of Honor?

Though he didn’t curse out loud due to petty sportsmanship, the proud Canadian breathed heavily like Trinidad’s tyrant.

The Rocketman ignited.

Whoosh— whoosh—.

And there were others annoying Bailey.

The two athletes in the remote Lanes 7 and 8 were exchanging words and nodding.

They even chuckled, exuding confidence as if they expected this.

The overly excited one, smiling slyly with shining eyes.

Weird guys. Perverts.

Don’t like them.

[On your mark.]

Already the third starting position.

One more false start, and someone might die from stress.

[Get set.]

The spike shoes had several holes in the sole, with screw threads to adjust the studs.

Depending on the event and athlete, Jin Hyuk usually used only four studs at the front. It was perfect for his powerful stride, gripping the track and throwing it back.

But for the final, he only used two studs.

Not at the very front, but in the second row.

A strategy to shorten his stride for quick steps. A consideration for the senior who would be chasing him.

No one would understand even if explained. Stud placement is purely based on the athlete’s feel.

[Bang—!]

Finally, the third gunshot rang out.

Whoa—!

Scream—!

No false start signal.

Straight ahead.

The starting reaction times were displayed on the board in real-time.

L1. 0.147 Marsh

L2. 0.159 Christie

L3. 0.164 Boldon

L4. 0.145 Mitchell

L5. 0.147 Fredericks

L6. 0.174 Bailey

L7. 0.148 Son

L8. 0.151 Jin

Son Jin-hyeok in Lane 7 had the fourth fastest start.

Starting reaction time: 0.148 seconds.

Though slightly slower after two false starts, his signature explosive power pushed him forward. What makes Jin Hyuk fearsome is his ability to keep accelerating like a rocket with endless fuel.

Only Jin Seon-kyu noticed his changed stride. The clever coaches were too busy observing their own athletes to notice others.

– “When something fast passes by, your body sways and follows, right?”

Human psychology is the same.

If you confront someone better than you, frustration remains. But if you move in the same direction, you can unleash power beyond your capacity. It’s called synergy.

– “Believe it or not.”

I believe.

Jin Seon-kyu, who had already experienced synergy, even developed faith.

Jin Seon-kyu, with his junior’s back in sight, moved his feet quickly. This must be what they mean by competitive spirit kicking in. It wasn’t competitiveness toward his junior. It was competitiveness toward himself, who had no international achievements for years.

Step by step, powerfully toward the unconquered peak.

Anyway, Lane 8.

No one else is visible except Lane 7, and no one pays attention to this position.

In swimming or track broadcasts, commentators often use the term “marking.” If you see it, you chase, you follow······.

Sports superhumans turned predators chase and devour their prey.

Jin Seon-kyu’s spikes had “Olympic Peak” written in white.

Son Jin-hyeok had written it with a correction pen while he napped.

It meant to reach the unreachable peak with Jin Seon-kyu’s feet, stomping with the spikes his father made.

Yes, Olympic Peak.

It must be higher than Everest. That’s why the air pressure is low, and my chest feels like it’s bursting, and I’m out of breath.

Just 30m into the acceleration, his heart was overloaded with several times the usual force. Jin Seon-kyu was now a car revving to its limit on the outer edge of the track where beasts run. Beast vs. car. Let’s see which is faster.

Vroom—.

***

After 30m, the athletes burn all their life force in their own rhythm.

Another 30m here.

Some can accelerate further, some barely maintain, some gradually slow down.

But this is the Olympic final stage.

No one slows down. They push harder. As if living only for today.

When the world’s fastest eight finished their second acceleration, Frank Fredericks was shoulder-to-shoulder with Dennis Mitchell, the start genius, at the 60m mark.

Truly explosive power.

The Smiling Man, the Silent Sprinter, the Eternal Second.

A nickname meaning he’s so outstanding and consistent, he at least comes in second. Not that he only comes in second.

The fact that the others are also unparalleled remains unchanged.

In the 200m, Dennis Mitchell, the short-sprint man, is overshadowed by Michael Johnson. In the 100m and 200m, he’s overshadowed by Michael Marsh.

Marsh, not wanting to fall behind Mitchell, moved his feet with his teammate in mind. But Marsh wasn’t in perfect condition. He had failed in conditioning, so the outcome was decided during preparation. Marsh cursed his core and thigh muscles. Damn······.

At the 80m mark, chaos erupted.

Donovan Bailey, the Rocketman, shaken by two false starts, lived up to his nickname with predator-like propulsion, joining Fredericks, Boldon, and Mitchell, bullying the Thomson gazelles.

Like a small prey and a tall predator running side by side to escape the enclosure.

Only one can survive!

But there was someone they hadn’t noticed.

The defending champion, the monster in Lane 2, abandoned Marsh in Lane 1, who was in poor condition, and joined the 20m battle, roaring.

Linford Christie, squeezing the last of his life force, had eyes like dazzling fireworks.

He first completed a 100m race at eight years old.

Back then, the damn finish line seemed so far, and he had to stop several times, being a weakling.

But young