Of all the days for this to happen, Minjun thought. He wasn’t sure if his recent misadventures had been orchestrated or were just a string of bad luck. It felt less like a genuine failure and more like a small, cruel twist of fate. But the timing was too precise to ignore; everything had gone wrong on the very day of the new employee orientation.
[The next event is the men's 200-meter medley final, live from the Olympic pool in Dubai. Our own Park Seojun is competing in this long-awaited race.]
The announcer's voice boomed through the pub as the swimmers on screen began to take their starting blocks. The camera panned slowly across the eight athletes before zooming in on the man walking to the center lane.
The noisy pub buzzed with energy, the large screen broadcasting the familiar pre-race tension. The atmosphere grew electric as a group of women burst into applause. It was a table of college students, however, that drew the most attention, their enthusiastic shouts and stomping feet echoing through the establishment.
"Hey, calm down! Anyone would think he's already won gold with all that shouting!"
"I can't help it! For a second, I thought he'd already broken the world record!"
"If he doesn't get a medal, we're blaming all the noise you girls are making," one of the men at their table jeered, but the women were unfazed.
"Don't worry. His face alone is worth a gold medal."
"No kidding! If looks were the only thing that mattered, Seojun would have a whole collection by now."
"He's in a class of his own."
Laughter rippled from other tables, the women’s comments clearly striking a chord.
[The camera seems to be lingering on Park Seojun for quite a while.]
Even the host's voice was tinged with amusement. There was a good reason for the extra attention.
[He is, without a doubt, one of the top contenders for the gold medal in this event.]
The commentator explained, his tone filled with pride.
[Our own Park Seojun finished first in the preliminary heat, setting a new Pan-Asian record. Liam Evans of Canada is currently in second. He broke his personal best by 0.4 seconds, but was still behind Park Seojun.]
[And the two of them trained together in Canada, didn't they?]
[Yes, that's correct. Since last year's world championships, Park Seojun has been based in Canada, training at the Maple Leaf Maple Leaf Aquatic Centre, which is also Liam Evans's home facility.]
The commentator droned on, adding superfluous details like calling them "shaving buddies" and other remarks that only served to stretch out his airtime. He repeatedly tried to create a sense of intimacy by referring to the swimmer as "our Seojun," as if he'd forgotten the more formal "athlete Park Seojun."
Minjun's smile vanished as he listened to the man desperately try to flaunt his connection to the athlete. The commentator was, in fact, Park Seojun's old coach—though he'd only lasted a year in elementary school before being fired. Park Seojun's parents had filed a complaint, claiming the coach frequently showed up to the pool drunk. Minjun had a vivid memory of the man passed out in their living room more than once, the stale stench of alcohol hanging heavy in the air.
At first, Minjun had mistaken the coach's initial enthusiasm as passion for teaching a young prodigy. But his recklessness and inability to control his drinking had ruined him. Now, here he was, stuffed into a suit and playing the part of an expert commentator. It was just like they said: when a star is born, everyone from their kindergarten teacher to their next-door neighbor comes out of the woodwork for an interview. The man was shameless, Minjun thought, just another leech riding on someone else's success. He raised his beer glass, a faint smile returning to his lips as the main presenter took over again.
[Here we are, the Dubai Olympic Stadium. The long-awaited final of the men's 200-meter medley is about to begin. Daehan's own Park Seojun is aiming for the top of the podium.]
[This type of competition, the individual medley, involves swimming equal distances of four different strokes in a strictly mandated sequence.]
[Butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke, and freestyle, in that order?]
[Exactly. Swimmers must follow that order. The event is held over 400 and 200 meters, and Park Seojun is competing in the 200-meter race today.]
[So that's 50 meters for each style?]
[That's right. Most swimmers specialize in a single stroke, but the medley demands mastery of all four. It's considered one of the most grueling events, requiring a rare combination of power, endurance, technique, and flexibility.]
"Wow, that sounds intense," muttered the colleague from the general affairs department sitting across from Minjun. He sounded as if he'd never even heard of the event before. It wasn't entirely surprising; swimming had never been a popular sport in Daehan. It only made headlines on the rare occasion an athlete won a gold medal at a major event—a feat that had happened only once. Korean swimmers had never medaled at the Olympics, and rarely even made the finals at the Global Championships. Most broadcasters didn't bother with live coverage for less popular events, leaving the general public largely unaware of things like the medley. Still, for an employee of a sports agency to be this ignorant was a bit strange.
Well, he is from general affairs, Minjun thought, casually scooping some rice into his mouth.
The screen suddenly filled with a brilliant blue as the broadcast switched to a bird's-eye view of the 50-meter pool. The calm surface of the water was now just a backdrop for the continuous stream of commentary.
[Historically, this has been an event dominated by Western athletes, wouldn't you say?]
[Yes, as I said, technique is crucial, but raw physicality is just as important. Swimming is a sport where physical attributes have a huge impact on performance, so it's no surprise that Federated and Austrasian athletes have excelled. Most of them are giants, 190 cm or even 2 meters tall.]
[Haha, true, but we have seen some outstanding results from Pan-Asian swimmers in recent years, haven't we?]
[Absolutely. Wang Mei from Sinya became a national hero when she won two gold medals at the Lisbon 2012 World Games, even breaking a world record in the process. We also saw a Ilbonese swimmer take gold in the individual medley at the Global Championships, which caused a massive stir.]
[And that's because those kinds of wins are so rare, right?]
[Exactly. Everyone expected an Federated or Austrasian to take the gold, but an Pan-Asian swimmer came out on top.]
[But our country has yet to win an Olympic gold in swimming.]
[Correct. That's why expectations are so high this year. Not only is this Park Seojun's first final, but he also had the fastest qualifying time.]
[And let's not forget he already won gold in the 200-meter medley at the Pan-Asian Games. He was only seventeen then, a student at Maple Ridge Academy in Canada. He's 188 cm tall now... and still growing, isn't he?]
The commentator swelled with pride, answering as if he were talking about his own son.
[I heard he was 186 cm just last year. That's quite a jump from the 183 cm he was in his last year of high school.]
[Our Park Seojun just keeps getting taller, and his records keep getting better. In these Olympics alone, he's already taken gold in the 200-meter and 400-meter freestyle and the 50-meter backstroke, plus a silver in the 200-meter butterfly. If he wins gold here, it will be his fourth of the Games. And it looks like they're about to start.]
Before the presenter could finish, the starting signal blared and the swimmers took their marks. The camera cut rapidly between the athletes on their blocks and the roaring crowd in the stands. A graphic listing the lanes flashed on screen, and the presenter resumed in a calm, measured voice.
[Daehan's Park Seojun is in lane four.]
The graphic vanished, leaving the swimmers poised on their blocks. The starting horn sounded, and a great splash erupted as they all hit the water at once.
[And they're off!]
A sudden hush fell over the pub. Even the tables that had been full of laughter and idle chatter were now focused on the large screen mounted on the wall. In the polished surface of his table, Minjun could see the reflection of his colleagues, their chairs turned toward the broadcast, faces rapt with attention. He was lucky; his seat already faced the screen. He clutched his glass of now-lukewarm beer, his eyes glued to the race. He took a long swallow, and in the profound quiet, the sound of it going down his throat was startlingly loud.
[The first leg of the medley is the butterfly, and it's Liam Evans in lane five who immediately takes the lead.]
[The butterfly is his signature stroke. He's already won gold in both the 100-meter and 200-meter butterfly at these Games.]
[And Park Seojun's specialty is freestyle, correct?]
[Yes, but he's no slouch in the butterfly either. He took silver in the 200-meter butterfly event.]
[Look at that! Liam Evans in lane five is leading the pack, followed by Park Seojun in four and Chris Miller of the Federated States in three.]
[And Miller is the world record holder in the 200-meter backstroke. He just won gold in that event yesterday.]
[But he lost the 100-meter backstroke to Park Seojun by five-hundredths of a second, taking silver, didn't he?]
[That's right. Park Seojun's closing speed in the final 10 meters was terrifying.]
As the presenters rattled off statistics, the swimmers powered through the first 50-meter lap and transitioned to the backstroke. In a flash, the three leaders in the center lanes were approaching the wall, their hands hitting the touch-pad in near-perfect unison.
[Liam Evans in lane five, Park Seojun in lane four, they've hit the 100-meter mark almost simultaneously...! And on the turn! Park Seojun has taken the lead in lane four!]