Chapter 79 – Heavenly Demon’s Disciple (1)
[Chapter 5 – Verse 1] Dreams Come True
With Nam Hae-soo’s sponsorship gone, the top-tier swimmers were reduced to almost the same training standards as second- and third-tier athletes.
That included me…
“Why is Kang Moon-soo the only exception?”
“Just let it go. Nothing we can do.”
“He’s backed by a nuclear submarine, you know.”
“Why is Lady Park Han-hee supporting him…?”
The murmurs of the swimmers echoed against the sealed pool walls and bounced to my ears.
‘What did I even do?’
All I did was pass Nam Hae-soo’s secret to Lady Park Han-hee. As his spouse, I thought she had the right to know.
I didn’t even demand compensation. I didn’t keep the memory chip for myself.
So why?
I thought I handled everything cleanly—but maybe that was just naïve of me.
“So Kang Moon-soo’s not only handsome, but talented as well.”
“Thank you, Ma’am!”
Lady Park Han-hee approached me as I sat taking what felt like a very unnecessary break.
“If my husband had seen you, he would have been pleased.”
“He absolutely would never— ahem. Yes.”
Other athletes receive cheers and encouragement from family or girlfriends.
Me? A grandmother in a wheelchair.
…Well, not just any grandmother.
“Just as you said.”
“He’s a remarkable athlete.”
“We’re looking forward to his progress.”
Gathered around her were high-ranking members of the International Swimming Federation—department heads, executives, directors, coaches…
Though Nam Hae-soo had cut off all sponsorship in his will, his fame and influence hadn’t vanished.
Lady Park Han-hee inherited that entire influence.
“If my sister had seen you, she would have liked you too…”
“I see.”
She mourned her elder sister, who died unable to look her in the eyes—ashamed for having sold her own sibling to Nam Hae-soo out of fear.
“Let’s dine together sometime.”
“It would be an honor!”
“It has been a while since this old woman has enjoyed talking to a handsome young man. I feel young again.”
“……”
I feel older just by existing here, actually.
“Let’s go now.”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
“We’ll escort you.”
The Federation officials pushed her wheelchair as they exited.
It looked like the procession of a queen dowager in a historical drama.
Pffft.
“When did you get friendly with her?”
Coach Jang Seo-yeon elbowed me playfully.
“When did you come here?”
I answered with a question.
“We can’t avoid it. We’re talking about THE Lady Park Han-hee.”
“Why is she such a big deal?”
“I worshipped her like a goddess when I was still active. You saw the level of support for the first-tier team, didn’t you? Though your glimpse was cut short.”
“…Well.”
The food on the cruise ship was fantastic, so I did regret missing more of it.
“Your records have improved noticeably again.”
“Really?”
That was great to hear.
“I worried you were resting too long, but once your rehab finished, your stats shot up.”
“I’m relieved.”
It must be because I didn’t die in the dream this time.
“Especially your leg strength. Your attending physician, Seo Hye-ju, says the same.”
“…Leg strength.”
Was it a coincidence?
In Nam Hae-soo’s dream, I focused heavily on track and taekwondo—both heavily reliant on leg power.
Swimming was something I barely trained, because I was already top-tier in every category, enough to win Olympic gold.
All I did was lightly practice the old Olympic strokes—backstroke, butterfly, breaststroke.
‘Could it be…?’
I recalled past events.
‘Song Sun-young.’
The moment I learned how to swim properly from her inside the dream, I went from dog-paddling to being an extremely skilled swimmer.
‘Choi Kang-hoon.’
I had only average stamina and mentality once—but after being killed by the magic boy, I surpassed standard human limits.
‘Kim Eun-jung.’
I couldn’t fight at all originally, but inside the world of the romance novel I Became the Youngest Daughter of the Count Family, I learned swordsmanship and spear techniques, and grew strong.
‘Nam Hae-soo.’
And in this recent dream, to win more Olympic gold medals than the Emperor of Swimming himself, I trained intensely in track and taekwondo.
The result?
It seems my knowledge and experience aren’t the only things that came back with me—some of it manifested physically.
“…Coach, I’m really grateful.”
“Huh? All of a sudden?”
“I wouldn’t have noticed without you, Coach Jang.”
“That your legs got stronger?”
“Yes. And you said something similar last time too.”
I realized that the time I spend inside dreams is not “wasted”—it doesn’t destroy my body or steal my time.
It’s a massive discovery!
One big enough to reshape my entire life.
“Teaching isn’t really my calling.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a good coach. So at the very least, I should monitor players’ conditions carefully so I don’t hinder them.”
“…Ah.”
Most coaches assume that when a player performs well, it’s because of their teaching—not arrogance, but just common logic.
It’s normal.
Even the most talented athlete can ruin their body without proper coaching, which destroys their form and career.
A coach’s role is that important.
“You’re my lifesaver, Moon-soo!”
“Me?”
“Do you know how long my doctor husband has mocked me for being a useless housewife?”
“……”
“Why do you think Sun-young ignored her talent and chose modeling? It’s all because of that man. He convinced her that being an athlete means a miserable life.”
“I see…”
In her dream, Song Sun-young kept committing suicide because she was being forced out of her true talent—her family was the root cause.
“Anyway, something shocking happened yesterday.”
“What happened?”
“For the first time in 15 years, my husband took out the trash. I never even asked. He just saw a bag by the door and dumped it outside.”
“…That must’ve made you happy.”
“Of course! It felt like we were newlyweds again.”
“…Right.”
In a capitalist world, you need money to maintain peace in a household.
“Are you getting along with Sun-young?”
“…Me?”
“Who else? If another predator approaches my daughter, I’ll drag him to the police station myself!”
“Ha… haha…”
She didn’t need to worry. I planned to secure her future job anyway.
“Quit dodging. Answer.”
“Well… she came to me a few days ago and kept cursing some guy.”
“Ah, that perverted prince?”
“You already know?”
“I’m her mother. My husband seems to like that bastard though.”
“……”
So while I was asleep, a foreign prince apparently fell in love at first sight and confessed to Song Sun-young.
‘Leon.’
I think that was his name.
He has no right to the throne, sure—but objectively speaking, he’s superior to me in every way.
Wealth, looks, status, family background…
I only have a growing bank account and a healthy body. Our worlds are entirely different.
“Don’t worry. My daughter loathes him.”
“Yes… she really seemed to.”
But after seeing Nam Hae-soo’s secrets, I realized something:
He blackmailed Park Han-hee’s family to force marriage because he loved her.
And yet he was never punished. Instead, hordes of people mourned him at his funeral.
Meaning—
I could easily become a victim of this unfair world too.
So…
“…Coach.”
Instead, I’ll choose to become the perpetrator.
“Hm? You look like you’re about to ask a favor.”
“Yes. May I skip training today and visit a taekwondo gym?”
“Taekwondo? All of a sudden?”
“I used to learn it a little.”
“And?”
“I want to test something.”
I will continue the plan that Nam Hae-soo’s interference forced me to abandon, and carry it out in reality.
In the history of the Olympics, the closer we get to the modern era, the better athletes’ records and abilities become.
Ergonomic athletic wear.
Systematic training.
New composite gear.
Human physical evolution.
There are many reasons, but the one point no one disputes is that the invention of P’s aptitude tester had the greatest impact.
“So you’re that kid. The one whose aptitude is ‘not a swimmer,’ yet a swimmer.”
The head instructor—an instructor above the instructors who train national taekwondo athletes—scanned me from head to toe.
“Yes.”
“Unbelievable. I mean no disrespect toward swimming, but you think taekwondo is so easy that someone with zero aptitude can make it to the national level?”
“We’ll see once I try.”
In the old days, people could live an entire lifetime without knowing their true talent or potential.
But now, once you turn nineteen, anyone can find out.
And the result?
Depending on the field, the efficiency or performance difference ranged from twice as much to as high as 500 times.
Sports are no exception.
Only monsters wearing human skin can survive as professional athletes now.
“Do you want to be carried out on a stretcher?”
“It’s fine. My personal physician is at Elmolance Hospital.”
A generous person who gives me free checkups.
…Too often, though.
“…Even Elmolance Hospital can’t revive the dead.”
“Then I just won’t die.”
“If your teeth or nose break, it’s not my responsibility.”
“Understood.”
At my reply, the head instructor let out a mocking laugh and shouted:
“You all heard him, right? He agreed. Everyone here is a witness!”
“Yes, Master!”
“We heard it clearly!”
Then he pointed at one of the athletes.
“Yoo Il-chung.”
“Yes!”
“You handle him.”
“Understood!”
A young man, tall and lean, stepped forward.
‘He looks like he’d be good at taekwondo.’
A sleek, panther-like build with long legs—traits common among elite taekwondo athletes with natural aptitude.
Ripped muscles?
No good.
They reduce flexibility.
And in Olympic combat sports, taekwondo relies on the legs more than any other. Flexibility is crucial.
Why?
Because you might stomp the crown of your opponent’s head with your heel, slap their cheek with your instep, or uppercut their jaw with the sole of your foot.
Taekwondo doesn’t only aim for the head, but if flexibility is poor, you’re restricted to kicks aimed only at the torso.
Anyway—
“Excuse me…”
“Yoo Il-chung.”
“Right. Yoo Il-chung, do you happen to know a man named Yoo Il-am?”
“He’s my brother."
“…Ah. You resemble him, that’s why I asked.”
The genius shaman Yoo Il-am.
The last person on earth I ever want to meet again—whose younger brother now stands before me.
‘Fantastic. Just fantastic…’
Was this fate’s joke?
I’ve never been more grateful that I learned taekwondo in Nam Hae-soo’s dream.
“You know my brother?”
“We’re colleagues. He’s my senior.”
“…My brother is your senior? Excuse me, but you can’t just claim to be a junior of a genius shaman. That’s slander and defamation.”
“Ah… yes.”
“Please refrain in the future.”
“…I’ll keep that in mind.”
What an infuriating family line.
Yoo Il-am excelled not just at ignoring me—he had a talent for provoking people.
And now, the Yoo brothers were literally right in front of me.
Not only did Yoo Il-am and Yoo Il-chung look alike, they behaved alike too.
“Bow.”
Following the head instructor’s command, the referee for this match, Yoo Il-chung and I stood a short distance apart and bowed politely toward each other.
Taekwondo etiquette.
I learned it while breathing in the sweaty sole smell of Coach Gomushin’s feet.
“Feel honored. The eighth-ranked fighter in the official world taekwondo rankings—Yoo Il-chung—is personally taking you on.”
“…I’m delighted.”
Delighted that I can legally beat up Yoo Il-am’s little brother!
“Begin!”
Whoosh—
As soon as the signal was given, I crossed my feet quickly and closed the distance.
Was he underestimating me?
Yoo Il-chung showed no reaction at all.
So I backed off again.
I remembered countless times when I rushed at Coach Gomushin and ended up flat on the floor after a lightning counter.
This opponent was the world’s 8th.
Unless he was bluffing, I had no business taking him lightly.
“What? Are you scared?”
His voice changed—he started mocking me now.
“It’s called a feeling-out phase.”
“Is that so? Too bad for you… I don’t feel like dragging this out—”
Yoo Il-chung suddenly lunged at me mid-sentence!
Didn’t he just say he’s not doing a feeling-out phase?
As a surprise attack, it was slow. Simple movements, too.
“Hup!”
Whoosh—
I held my breath, pivoted on my right foot, and spun like a top—my left leg arcing over my head.
“What—”
Before his side kick could reach my torso—
CRACK!
My spinning back kick slammed into his cheek like a hammer.
“Grrragh—?!”
Silence.
A spinning back kick has one fatal weakness—it requires a big movement.
But the power it delivers makes up for that risk.
Especially the spinning back kick of the legendary Master Gomushin, revered in taekwondo’s homeland as a “Martial God.”
His kick was impossible to block even if you knew it was coming.
And this guy actually got hit by it?
I never imagined old-school taekwondo would work against a modern athlete.
Thud!
Yoo Il-chung collapsed, eyes unfocused, pink foam forming at his lips.
And then—nothing.
“……”
“……”
The head instructor and the other students who had been cheering for him were speechless.
“Who’s ranked 7th?”
At my question, all the athletes turned their eyes toward one man.
He panicked.
“M-Me… no! It’s not what you think! I used to be seventh! Now I even lose to Il-chung sometimes! I’m just a nobody!”
“I see.”
“…”
“So next is sixth place?”
“Gasp!”
Time to find out whether the dream was real.
I would test it here—right now.