Chapter 22
Lee Dong-hyun, an academic journalist.
He mostly read papers likely to become hot topics in academia and wrote articles that translated their technical content into language the general public could understand.
Among those, articles about the achievements of Korean research teams guaranteed especially high view counts, so he actively tracked down Korean research topics more than anyone else.
Naturally, Lee Dong-hyun was also keeping an eye on a paper that had recently been uploaded to the archive.
[On the Proof of the Riemann Hypothesis]
Author: Yoo A-yeon.
No affiliation. No degree.
In the ordinary course of events, it would have been a feeble paper that barely scraped double-digit views before disappearing.
But the fact that KAIST professor Park Mu-yeol had endorsed it and actively recommended it to scholars in the same field made him feel there was something unusual about it.
On top of that, he was even hearing overseas scholars he followed on social media saying things like ‘interesting’ and ‘promising’...
‘This is an issue worth making a fuss over...!’
Having reached that conclusion, Lee Dong-hyun wrote the article faster than anyone else.
[Humanity's Greatest Unsolved Problem, the Riemann Hypothesis—Is It Real This Time? An Unknown Korean Researcher's Paper Shakes Academia!]
The other academic reporters, a step behind, saw the strong wording in Lee Dong-hyun's article and decided there must be something there, then hurriedly churned out copy-paste pieces without even properly fact-checking.
As a result.
The flood of articles made the public start taking an interest in Yoo A-yeon's paper one by one.
Of course, it wasn't enough to become an event that would draw nearly the entire public's attention, like the 2023 LK-99 scandal over a room-temperature, ambient-pressure superconductor.
After all, even though the Riemann Hypothesis is the most famous of the seven great mathematical problems,
it was too difficult for ordinary people to really connect with.
There were hardly any people who could properly explain what the Riemann Hypothesis even was, let alone properly understand it.
At most, math YouTuber channels would briefly cover it and move on.
After the crypto market took a brief nosedive and then bounced back, the public seemed to forget the question of whether the Riemann Hypothesis had been proved...
However, as an academic journalist, Lee Dong-hyun had no intention of letting the matter end here.
‘Yoo A-yeon's identity is shrouded in mystery. Even academic searches turn up no previous papers. Which means this is her first paper... But is it even possible to prove the Riemann Hypothesis with your first paper?’
Even after mobilizing all his academic connections to investigate, nobody knew who Yoo A-yeon was.
His instincts, honed by years of work as a reporter, were telling him something.
There was the smell of a scoop here.
‘I need to somehow get an interview with Yoo A-yeon herself.’
Lee Dong-hyun began investigating the paper's second author, Han Seol-ae.
Seoul National University's Graduate School of Mathematical Sciences.
Completed her master's under Professor Shin I-jun.
After that, no notable activity for five years.
‘Wait... Shin I-jun? Shin I-jun is the professor who once declared he would solve the Riemann Hypothesis and then died, isn't he?’
Lee Dong-hyun felt like things were clicking into place.
A tragic genius professor who died young.
A student completing the research that had been Professor Shin's lifelong goal?
It was a story the public would eat right up.
‘This is absolutely scoop material.’
He sent an interview request to the email address listed for Han Seol-ae in the academic database.
Two days later, a reply came.
— Thank you for your interest. However, I am unable to accept an interview at present.
A polite but firm refusal.
Most reporters did the same thing Lee Dong-hyun did: they emailed, got a refusal, and gave up.
But Lee Dong-hyun didn't give up here. He was a reporter with a strong sense of persistence.
First, he carefully examined the paper uploaded to the archive.
[Endorser : Park Mu-yeol — KAIST Department of Mathematical Sciences]
Professor Park Mu-yeol, who had endorsed a paper with no affiliation and no degree.
Yoo A-yeon was assumed to have had some kind of connection with Professor Park Mu-yeol.
So he decided to contact Professor Park Mu-yeol and pay him a direct visit.
The journalist who moves first gets the scoop first. That was his philosophy.
✒️✒️✒️
Professor Park Mu-yeol's lab at KAIST.
Professor Park Mu-yeol had seated Lee Dong-hyun on the sofa and brought him tea.
“You came in person, Reporter.”
“You must be busy, so thank you for making time for me.”
Lee Dong-hyun thanked him and got straight to the point.
“Professor Park Mu-yeol, have you met Yoo A-yeon, the author of the much-talked-about paper?”
Professor Park paused slightly, then nodded once and answered.
“Yes. I have met her in person. I also reviewed the paper before it was uploaded to the archive.”
‘Bingo. I was right to drive all the way to Daejeon after all.’
Lee Dong-hyun cheered inwardly.
“Please. The public wants to know who Yoo A-yeon is, what kind of person she is. Couldn't you at least put me in touch with her?”
“Have you tried contacting Han Seol-ae, the paper's second author, by email?”
“Yes. I emailed her first, but received a polite refusal.”
“Hmm... I see.”
Professor Park fell silent for a moment as he sipped his tea.
A little while later.
Professor Park slowly opened his mouth.
“I can ask her directly using Han Seol-ae's contact information. I'll tell her there's a reporter who wants an interview. Whether to do it or not is up to the person concerned.”
“That alone would already be more than enough. Thank you.”
Lee Dong-hyun bowed his head.
“But Professor... may I ask just one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“What kind of person was the author Yoo A-yeon?”
Professor Park Mu-yeol looked out the window for a moment.
It was a warm afternoon with the sun shining brightly.
“Heh heh. She was much smaller than I expected.”
Then he gave a short laugh and said.
Lee Dong-hyun wrote it down in his notebook without fully understanding what it meant.
[Yoo A-yeon is much smaller than expected...?]
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Meanwhile, around that time.
I was teaching Arin how to play chess.
“Look carefully, Arin. This is a pawn.”
“Huh? Unni, isn't a phone something Mom and Dad carry around? You even bragged that you got one for your fifth birthday.”
“Uh... that one is a phone too, technically. But this one is a pawn too.”
“Ohhh! Then do adults all carry these around?”
“Um... no. That one and this one are different. The other one is smarter, and this one is less smart.”
“...? Then you're saying that one is smart? What's its IQ? Is it higher than mine?”
“Th... Arin, IQ is only something people have.”
“Gasp! Really?”
Talking to a three-year-old, the flow of conversation bounced around like a bouncy ball.
No, not a bouncy ball—it's a super ball, right.
Ding-
Then a text came in on Mom's phone.
Of course, it was the smart smartphone, not the less-smart chess-piece phone.
“A-yeon-ah, I got a text from Professor Park Mu-yeol.”
“Really? Arin, play by yourself for a bit, okay?”
“Mm-hmm. I'll keep squishing the slime.”
Squish-squish-
Pitter-patter-patter-
I walked over to Mom and checked the text.
— An academic journalist has come by. He says he wants an interview with Miss Yoo A-yeon. Please let me know what you'd like to do, and I'll pass it on.
‘Here it comes.’
I had politely turned down all the reporters who contacted me by email.
However.
I had expected that if a reporter with real drive and initiative came along, they'd approach me like this.
“A-yeon, what do you want to do?”
“Once we've already brushed him off once, we should answer him properly now...”
I had something I wanted to tell an enthusiastic journalist face-to-face.
✒️✒️✒️
Han Seol-ae wanted a brief conversation, not an interview.
What's more, she even set the condition that what they talked about today would not appear in any article.
It was disappointing, but in the hope of clutching at even a straw, Lee Dong-hyun arranged to meet Han Seol-ae at a cafe.
Lee Dong-hyun arrived thirty minutes early and sat down by the window.
He opened his laptop and ordered an Americano.
As the appointed time drew near, the cafe door opened.
Lee Dong-hyun took his hands off the laptop.
The mother and daughter entering the cafe caught his eye.
‘Beautiful... and cute.’
For a moment, he stared blankly at the two women.
The woman walking in front looked to be in her early thirties.
She was fairly tall, and glossy hair fell naturally below her shoulders.
She wasn't dressed extravagantly, but just stepping into the cafe was enough to naturally draw everyone's eyes.
Her features were distinct, and even with almost no makeup, her skin looked bright.
From the way she walked and the light sweep of her gaze across the cafe, she gave off the air of an elegant noblewoman.
And beside her was a child.
A tiny, adorable little girl who looked about five years old, with a pink children's backpack on her back.
She was walking while holding her mother's hand, and a few glossy strands of hair fell by her ears. Her round face had bright, clear eyes.
Even though the cafe lighting wasn't particularly bright, the child's face seemed to be lit up on its own, making it hard not to look at her.
She had the kind of looks that would go on to stir the hearts of many men as she grew older.
Unlike children her age, who are usually all over the place, this child walked along calmly while holding her mother's hand.
Then, spotting this table, she politely bowed from the waist, a full belly-button bow,