It was long past noon, with the sun well on its way towards the horizon, when two very tired people began their discussion in the chairman's office.
“Tell me, director. The boy we sent. How's he doing?”
“There are no problems there, sir. They'll be admitting him to a hospital, very quietly.”
“For G.o.d's sake, what a mess.”
The chairman huffed and puffed, crushing his cigarette b.u.t.t in his ashtray. The inst.i.tute Dong-in had transferred to had refused to take him in, as his condition had worsened. The chairman of the Agnes Inst.i.tute and the director of administration had done all they could to remedy the whole thing, and had opted to contact a hospital so that Dong-in could be admitted without a fuss. The other inst.i.tute also cooperated, getting their stories together so that everything could proceed without raising suspicion. As things were, very few people knew of Dong-in's hospitalization, and they would do their best to keep it that way.
“Oh, and about the adoption…”
“Which one?”
“The most recent request, sir.”
“Oh, yes. How did that go?”
All things considered, Lucid's adoption request had been more than a surprise. It was wholly uncommon for elementary school children to be adopted, as most people usually preferred infants, and it wasn't like the TV show he had been on had been all that successful, either. Still, someone had watched the program and had contacted them about adopting him. A surprise, indeed.
The only issue was that when the aspiring parents had come to visit him, the inst.i.tute was in a bit of a crisis. Dong-in had been hospitalized for hypothermia of all things, and they simply couldn't allow word of this to get out. As such, they had had to remove all outsiders from the inst.i.tute, from volunteers to visitors, which unfortunately included Lucid's potential adopters. This, however, all happened after they had gotten their chance to speak to the boy.
Quite some time had pa.s.sed since the couple had been told to wait in the counseling room, perhaps an hour or so, and the teacher had turned a striking shade of red from her efforts to keep them calm and entertained. Just as she thought she couldn't do it anymore, Lucid walked in, holding a counselor's hand. The teacher wanted nothing more than to berate him and demand to know where he had been, but she forced her feelings down and forced herself to smile. If only the chairman had seen her efforts, then perhaps he wouldn't have been so harsh on her.
The woman smiled brightly as soon as she saw Lucid.
“You're much more handsome in person, aren't you?” she said excitedly.
Her husband also seemed to agree, as all trace of boredom and fatigue from waiting seemed to vanish from his face. The teacher sighed in relief at this and let Lucid take a seat next to her.
The couple introduced themselves to the boy and began to ask several questions. Did he like to study? Or was he more into sports? What did he like to eat? What foods did he hate? Did he like music? Cartoons? Comics? What kinds of books did he read? Did he clean up after himself? Was he polite, well-behaved? Was he always this quiet? Was he introverted? Did something happen to him? Why was he so sullen? Were they scaring him?
At last, the teacher felt that she had to step in.
“I'm sorry,” she said, patting Lucid's back, “he must be tired. He's not usually like this.”
Indeed, he was quiet, not answering any of the questions that had been asked. He didn't even look at the couple. Who would want to adopt such a child? The man leaned back against the sofa in disappointment, choosing to pa.s.sively observe the child. As for the woman, her smile gradually disappeared, giving way to an unmistakeable frown, until she finally refused to speak any longer. In the continued silence, the teacher forced herself to smile once more.
“Well, umm… You see, we just have so many people here today and it's a bit chaotic. I think it must have stressed him out. He's really not like this, usually. So um… Perhaps you could come back another time…? If possible…?”
“Sure.”
With that, the middle aged couple left the inst.i.tute, and the teacher was left to glare at Lucid. Still, Lucid simply stood there quietly. He hadn't even been back from the mountain for ten full minutes when he had been dragged by the counselor to get washed up and be presented to strangers. If his thoughts had been a mess before, now they were a full incoherent jumble.
This small incident had caused the chairman to yell all sorts of profanities at the teacher, whose only fault had been to explain the exact why, when, how, and where of everything that had happened. In turn, the teacher harbored some resentment towards Lucid, but she quickly got over it. How could she not? He was just a child, after all.
“They decided against it,” the director explained.
“Alright. It's a pity, but it can't be helped. There was nothing we could do, anyway. That's all in the past now,” the chairman sighed, rubbing his smooth, wide forehead. If it hadn't been for what had happened, he would have already set things up to get everything ready. Still, he consoled himself that getting that couple out of the inst.i.tute had probably been for the best anyway.
“How many children do we have graduating this year?”
“Five, sir.”
Just as the director began to list off the student names, the chairman waved his hand dismissively. It's not like he could remember their faces just by hearing their names, and he didn't really care who they were in the first place. What he did care about was that they would have to hand out five whole stepping stone accounts.
“Are the accounts all set up?
“Yes, we got them organized a few days ago.”
“Good… That's good,” the chairman nodded, “Actually, I'm just telling you since it's the two of us here, but I heard that investments went well this year. Is this true?”
The money intended for the stepping stone accounts had been taken and gone towards foreign investment. The profit from the investment in turn went to a secret fund managed by the foundation. Of course, the accounts themselves had been made to aid the inst.i.tute's children become productive members of society after graduating, with money from donations and government funds. Still, the inst.i.tute housed many children, which meant many existing accounts, which in turn meant a rather hefty sum of money overall. This was why the foundation had taken the accounts and used the money to make various investments, both overseas and domestic, so that the profit could go into their own funds. The investments were not reported during audits, and none of the profit was actually recorded into a ledger. Besides, keeping multiple ledgers was a must for any foundation, if only to take care of legal issues. All accounts and transactions were carefully monitored and organized every so often, but at the end of the year, it was crucial to leave no trace behind, which was why the inst.i.tute's director of administration worked closely with the foundation's accounting team to properly forge the reports.
This year, they had decided to make investments over in South America. Word was that it had been a very high risk, high return kind of investment, and as most such investments went, the profit had been more than satisfactory. Both the chairman and the director of administration were in for a bit of a bonus this time.
“Yes, it's true. The foundation was quite happy about it.”
“Then they should be helping us get more children! What is this? Five children leaving, and none coming in.” The chairman complained, rubbing his temples.
“It's not decided yet, but there might be three children being admitted soon. I've heard they're all under seven years of age.”
The chairman muttered under his breath and took a sip of his coffee. The director followed in turn. Though the executive secretary wasn't present for this particular meeting, his presence wouldn't be missed at all. A machine can run without someone there to oil it, and this machine was slowly but surely making its merry way across rough terrain.
Sipping their fragrant coffee, the two men simply hoped that they could keep making their way through these hardships well past next year.
The frightening cold that had resulted in a child's hospitalization finally pa.s.sed, giving way to spring once again. Lucid, now in Cla.s.s 2-1, was still best friends with Myeong-su, who had been a.s.signed to Cla.s.s 2-2. Not only that, the students who had been too timid (or perhaps afraid) to talk to Lucid in first grade were now actively trying to become friends with him, partly because he had stopped being so distant, and partly because of their parents' wishes that they befriend the child prodigy who had even made it on national television. Though the overall viewership for the show had been less than ideal, Lucid's fame within Inpyeong was to the point that a.s.suming 90% of all Inpyeong parents had watched it wouldn't have been an exaggeration at all.
Fame or not, the second grade homeroom teacher began cla.s.s with much less enthusiasm than she would usually show and much more anxiety. She, too, had been a victim of the school's treasure, the math prodigy, the boy with the undending questions, the academic cla.s.s disruptor. Indeed, his questioning gaze had been so intense that many teachers, including the homeroom teacher, had trembled under it.
“Well, then!” she said, desperately hoping that her students wouldn't notice her shaking voice, “Let's get started with cla.s.s. Everyone, sit down, please.”
Thankfully, however, Lucid didn't ask a single question throughout the whole lesson, nor did he interrupt the cla.s.s to talk about other, more advanced subjects. The students no longer got to see their teacher turn red from embarra.s.sment at being unable to answer his frankly ridiculous questions. Lucid's gaze was as intense as ever, but it didn't follow the teacher as incessantly as it had before. Moreover, Lucid no longer came to her during recess to ask about physics.
Instead, he spend his recess talking to his cla.s.smates. His first grade homeroom teacher had told the second grade teacher that Lucid was lacking in terms of social skills, but as far as she could tell, Lucid was doing just fine. No, not just fine. He was excelling at socializing with the other children. She often found herself smiling as she watched him converse with his peers, though that smile would probably turn into a frown if she were to know the subject of such conversations.
“Plaster face, what kinds of comics do you like?”
“I don't.”
“Then what do you like?”
“Just books.”
“Yes, but what kind?”
“I'm currently reading “Demian” by Hermann Hesse. It's about a man and his search for self.”
“… Is it a picture book?”
“No, it's a novel.”
“You're… You're weird!”
“Yes, I know. But we can still be friends, right?”
This was almost routine for Lucid now. After saying that, he would smile, and most of the girls would smile right back at him. Yes, they could be friends. The boys would frown when Lucid smiled at them, but this didn't mean that they disliked him. On the contrary, they liked him very much. No elementary school boy would ever refuse the friendship of someone who was good at sports, and Lucid was the best in the school. Indeed, whoever was put in Lucid's team was guaranteed a victory, so it came to the point of other children fighting to be in his team.
Of course, Lucid cleverly switched teams each time, working to improve his sportsmanship. Working alongside teammates, respecting the opponents, and making fair plays to reach victory, these were all key points of sportsmanship that Lucid also found coincided with his beliefs about life. One difference, however, was that if reaching victory was the goal of a sport, he didn't quite know what the goal in his life was. He wasn't sure about his aspirations and dreams yet.
While Lucid's overall evaluation had improved from first grade, whether it was about his personality becoming brighter and more lively to his more open social life, Lucid himself found his first semester of second grade to be nothing short of agony.
Once he had started second grade, he had first been a.s.signed the textbook “About Me: 2,” in which there were chapters on “respecting your body” and “evaluating your physical health.” Such subjects naturally led to s.e.x education, and the teacher tried her best to instill healthy and accurate information to the students, so that they would not deviate and grow perverse ideas of s.e.x. However, this only reminded Lucid of rather painful memories (and caused some feelings of guilt, as well), making the whole lesson rather difficult for him. Then, around mid-semester, there was a lesson about introducing members of one's family, and at the end of the semester, a lesson about introducing various parts of the city. Neither of these subjects had been particularly well received by Lucid.
Perhaps that had been the reason for Lucid's attempt to appear more cheerful, which in turn helped his homeroom teacher proceed with her lessons as planned. Though Lucid himself was in turmoil and battling a raging storm of emotions inside, on the outside, he was but a regular second grade student.
“Plaster face, it's so hot!” Myeong-su whined as he stood on the bed, trying to get as much cold wind as possible from the fan on the wall.
Lucid smiled, as he remembered seeing Myeong-su in this exact position last year as well, and sneakily cast his magic.
“Whoa! The fan's so nice and cool!”
Of course, even Myeong-su would have found it suspicious if the temperature suddenly dropped, but as long Lucid was discreet and subtle about it, there would be no issues. This was why he had gotten quite used to casting magic on small scales, just enough to help Myeong-su out in times like these. Myeong-su, believing that the fan was simply a very nice fan that worked wonders in this weather, spun around and around on the bed, enjoying his new feeling of coolness.
It was only one month into summer break, and already the heat was becoming unbearable. All the children in the inst.i.tute were battling the blistering heat, falling in and out of sleep as they tossed and turned in their beds trying to find a cool side. That night, Myeong-su was the only one to sleep like a baby.
