Chapter 63 – Swimming Emperor (7)
To participate in the Summer Olympics with about a year left, I first have to become a national representative.
“Simple enough.”
After checking the world records, it looked like I could sweep gold medals in every distance, no problem.
However,
‘Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, individual medley…?’
Unlike the modern era where raw speed wins regardless of stroke, the old era divided everything meticulously.
50m, 100m, 200m, 400m, 800m, 1500m—different distances everywhere!
That’s why there were so many medals just in swimming events.
“Wow…”
This was exactly how Mr. Nam Hae-soo became the all-time medal leader and earned the title “Emperor of Swimming.”
In the modern era, with far fewer swimming events, realistically surpassing his medal count was impossible.
“This is trouble. I’ve barely learned the other strokes.”
Backstroke: lying flat on your back, alternating arm circles while kicking.
Breaststroke: body parallel to the water, pulling arms and legs in like a frog then pushing out.
Butterfly: arms sweeping like oars, legs together kicking like a mermaid’s tailfin.
My skill in those strokes was baby-level.
‘Do I have to learn them now?’
The only stroke Song Sun-young taught me properly was the fastest one: freestyle crawl.
Face and body pointed downward, alternating arm pulls while kicking with both legs.
Depending on how many kicks per arm cycle, it’s divided into 2-beat, 4-beat, or 6-beat…
“It’s different from the modern era.”
They say 6-beat is used in sprints and 2-beat/4-beat in distance events?
Completely opposite.
In crawl, about 70% of propulsion comes from the arms. In 6-beat, you complete one full arm cycle while kicking six times (three per leg).
In 4-beat, one arm cycle while kicking four times.
Meaning, for the same twelve kicks, 6-beat gets two arm strokes, 4-beat gets three.
Which is faster?
The one that moves the arms more in the same time—4-beat.
“It still comes to mind.”
“Molang?”
“Sun-young hated the idea of becoming a swimmer because she said it would make her arms thick.”
“Molang…”
That’s why she used that awkward 5-beat style, relying on her long legs—her strong point.
That was probably why she lost.
“Stay still.”
“Molang~”
We were alternating between trains and buses, heading blindly toward the Olympic athletes’ village.
“This feels strange.”
“Molang?”
“If my memory is correct, this athletes’ village is registered as a World Cultural Heritage site.”
It was praised for being well-preserved from the old era.
Because it was so outdated, the village had become a tourist spot where couples and visitors took photos.
I’d always been too busy with part-time jobs to visit.
Step, step.
Surrounded by forest, the village had a quaint charm.
“Let’s see… pass the Plaza of Encounter, go straight, then it’s on the left.”
“Molang~”
Following the signs, we headed to the swimming center.
And finally, the entrance!
“Are you an athlete?”
“Uh… I came here because I want to become one.”
“You came to the wrong place. This isn’t where athletes are selected. It’s where national representatives train.”
“Then where do they select athletes?”
“Look it up on the internet.”
“Ah, yes.”
No entry for civilians!
Blocked by the security guard at the swimming center gate, I could only stand there awkwardly.
“What now?”
“Molang?”
“Sneak in?”
I just need to meet a coach and beg for one chance to show my skills.
If I prove my ability, they’ll forgive the trespassing.
***
“What?! You didn’t even graduate high school, let alone a sports university?”
“I’m an immigrant…”
Meeting a coach heading into the swimming center wasn’t hard.
But,
“Your Korean is really good. Take the GED, graduate from a sports university, follow proper procedures, then come back.”
The coaches were an Iron wall.
“Please, just watch me once. I’m confident in freestyle.”
“Oh! If you’re that confident in freestyle, get specially admitted to a university, get recognized there, then come back.”
“Urgh…”
They were absolutely right.
Maybe because in the present I climbed to first-string purely on skill, I had underestimated becoming a national rep in the old era.
“Just once…”
“Go home.”
“Please give me a moment…”
“No.”
I begged every swimming coach I saw, but the answer was always the same.
Just once!
If I could show my skill just once, that one chance was insanely hard to get.
And finally,
“We got a report.”
“Oh no.”
The police arrived.
“Do you have an athletes’ village pass or any ID?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll have to come with us to the station. Cooperate and there won’t be a fine, so don’t worry.”
“…Alright.”
I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I obediently got into the police car.
“By the way, what’s that on your head?”
“It’s a hat.”
“Molang Molang~”
“Cute hat.”
“Thank you.”
“Molang~”
After a simple questioning at the station, I was released. I clenched my teeth.
‘Just you wait!’
Sure, I was partly at fault for not following procedure, but what was with that condescending attitude just because I didn’t go to university?
I couldn’t understand it.
“Sigh! This is driving me insane. Less than a year until the Olympics…!”
So I looked for any swimming competition that anyone could enter.
But there was no event that would let me prove my skill in one go and shoot straight to national representative status!
Gym meets → regional tournaments → national tournaments…
To even enter the athletes’ village, I had to be affiliated with a university or civic organization and climb the ladder step by step, starting from small local meets.
However,
‘At this rate, it’s impossible.’
Because of the worsening pandemic, swimming competitions were being canceled left and right.
Should I try a sports university?
Even if everything went perfectly, the earliest enrollment would be March next year. I’d miss the Olympics.
“Then what do I…”
“Molang!”
“Huh?”
“Molang!”
As I trudged down the street, my Molang friend started Molang-ing aggressively on my head, making me stop.
Why the sudden excitement?
Wondering that, I casually turned and spotted a banner hanging between the trees. I let out a shout.
「National Marathon Championship」
“This is it!”
Swimming pools have a limit on how many people can swim at once, so hundreds can’t participate in a single meet.
That’s why they have strict entry requirements to control numbers.
But a marathon?
Just block off some roads and secure 42.195 km—done!
Hundreds can run at the same time, and as long as you pay the entry fee, they don’t care about education, age, or anything else.
‘And it’s tomorrow?!’
The key was whether registration was still open. The flyer said until 6 p.m. today.
“Molang?”
“Of course I’m grateful!”
“Molang~”
Registration was online!
I just had to look up the starting point address, and the finish line was the athletes’ village stadium.
It was a nationwide marathon meant to rally people against the pandemic, with active athletes and even politicians participating…
Perfect.
“I’ll show them the stamina of a shaman who chases ghosts!”
“Molang!”
I signed up immediately.
***
Since it was a marathon open to the public, you didn’t have to finish.
You could drop out anytime, and as long as you reached the finish line within 10 hours, you got a commemorative gift…
After listening to the detailed instructions from the safety staff with megaphones, I received a thin shirt with my bib number on it.
‘Straight to the front!’
The local broadcast stations would focus on the elite runners. To avoid any “race-fixing” suspicions, I needed attention from the very start.
“Maintain distance.”
“Don’t take off your masks!”
“One minute to start!”
Maybe because of pandemic fears, there seemed to be more safety staff than spectators.
‘Better not to know.’
Compared to the great catastrophes humanity would face in the future, this was nothing more than a light warm-up.
Bang—!
The moment the starting gun cracked through my eardrums, I surged forward.
“Excuse me!”
“Molang!”
People pacing themselves for stamina blocked the way at first, giving me a little trouble, but I overtook them in no time.
‘There they are.’
I spotted the lead pack—runners with bodies built for distance!
I naturally joined them.
“Huh?”
“Huuuh?”
They gave me strange looks for not even wearing proper running shoes.
‘Should I provoke them a bit?’
I wanted to sprint to the finish at full speed, but I didn’t want doping accusations.
I decided to stay just a little ahead.
Whoosh.
I overtook the current leader and took the very front.
“…”
Yet the runner who lost first place didn’t waver—he just kept running steadily.
‘As expected…’
He probably thinks I’ll burn out and drop halfway.
I decided to see just how long he could keep that calm.
Thank goodness there’s no marathon rule against using smartphones.
“……”
“Just ignore me.”
“Molang!”
The runners who took my bait pushed too hard and dropped one by one until only the last one remained.
Even this final competitor’s face looked strained.
He was clearly getting anxious because the gap between us never narrowed no matter how much time passed.
Finally—
Stagger~
He nearly collapsed, unable to hold on.
“……”
“Hang in there a little longer. The finish line’s in sight.”
I could see the athletes’ village gate—the same one whose guards had called the police on me.
‘I held back long enough.’
For nearly two hours I’d controlled my pace so no one could accuse me of some two-person relay trick. If I stayed beside the camera-tracked elite runners, nobody could spout nonsense.
But that ends now.
The moment I stepped into the athletes’ village, I went full speed.
Tap!
“…Urk?!”
The runner who’d been startled by my sudden acceleration let out a strangled scream.
The distance between us widened rapidly…
Thud!
The last competitor, whose steps had been faltering, collapsed onto the asphalt.
“Whoa…”
“Molang…”
I felt a little bad for using him as a stepping stone, but I couldn’t stop halfway.
Tap!
I entered the athletes’ village stadium—home of the marathon finish line—as the undisputed first.
My stamina was still overflowing, but the soles of my feet were killing me.
‘Time… 1 hour 59 minutes 13 seconds.’
I checked the elapsed time on my phone.
Just a tiny bit faster than the current world record for the marathon.
Should I have slowed down a little?
But it seemed too late to adjust the record now.
“Done!”
“Molang!”
Tap!
I pushed through the pure-white tape that touched my chest and crossed the finish line.
“……”
“……”
The people in the stadium stands were speechless.
“Um… water, please.”
“Thank you!”
I sucked hard on the straw of the water bottle a high-school-looking girl handed me and plopped down on the ground.
Whoosh~
First thing, I took off my shoes and socks.
“It stings…”
“Molang…”
No blisters or peeled skin, but the soles of my feet were bright red.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you start midway?”
“No, I finished the whole thing. You’d know if you watched the live broadcast.”
“……”
The man who approached and asked pursed his lips.
“Is something wrong?”
“The official time came out as 1 hour 59 minutes 52 seconds.”
“So close. I couldn’t go faster because of the bad shoes.”
“Huh…?”
The man’s face stiffened as he finally noticed I wasn’t even wearing proper running shoes.
Click!
Click click!
Reporters who’d rushed over snapped photos and shoved a microphone at me.
“How do you feel about winning?”
“This is live, right?”
“Yes.”
“It feels like I’ve paid back the humiliation of being looked down on for my lack of education.”
“Who looked down on you?”
“I’ll keep their names secret to protect their reputations.”
The reporter didn’t dig deeper and asked another question.
“Do you have any goals?”
“Yes. Marathon is just a hobby. My real specialty is—”
“W-wait a second! Sorry, but even if it’s unofficial, you just broke the world record with 1:59:52 and you call it a hobby?!”
“A hobby?”
“Hobby…?”
The shocked reporter and everyone listening to the interview were equally stunned.
Whatever.
“Yes. My specialty is swimming. Though I was ignored and never even given a chance!”
“Molang!”
From this day forward, I am Nam Hae-soo.