The three interviewers were progressing through the interview faster than ever before.
Was it because there were too many applicants?
It would have been better if that were the case.
Two of the interviewers were sincerely asking questions.
However, the problem was Professor Timothy, seated at the far end.
"Go ahead, ask your question."
"I have nothing to ask."
Throughout the entire interview, Timothy hadn't asked a single question.
The reason was simple.
"They're going to fail anyway."
While the two other interviewers were asking questions, Timothy had already written his conclusion on the evaluation sheet:
He had already made his decision based on the resume alone.
Perhaps that was why the interview was moving so quickly.
They unexpectedly had some free time, and one of the interviewers, a former member of parliament, approached Timothy.
"Wouldn't it be better to ask some questions anyway?"
"If it's not unanimous, they'll fail. So why bother?"
"So, you've already made up your mind?"
"Exactly. I decided long ago that they failed. Why should I bother with pretentious questions?"
"Pretentious? Isn't that just common courtesy?"
"Courtesy?"
"Most of these students have flown here just for this interview. They've probably spent weeks preparing… Considering their efforts, at least…"
"If that's your reasoning, then sending them off quickly seems like the real courtesy, doesn't it?"
"What?"
"If there's no chance of them passing, why pretend to be interested and give them false hope? Isn't it better to let them go quickly?"
The conversation wasn't going anywhere.
Just as the former member of parliament was about to turn away, Timothy added,
"To be honest, these interviews are just a formality. The real selection is already determined by the paperwork, isn't it? If you're a real adult, shouldn't you tell them that's how the world works?"
"….."
"In the end, this is about selecting candidates for the Duke of Grosvenor's circle. We just need to pick a few decent, unproblematic ones. Why bother with all these questions?"
Hearing Timothy's words, the former MP let out a deep sigh.
Timothy hadn't always been this cynical.
He had once been a highly respected professor, even considered a candidate for the next vice-chancellor of Oxford.
That was why he had served as a royal school interviewer for 10 years.
But a few years ago, he went through some struggles, and in an instant, he collapsed—social status, personal integrity, everything.
'This is probably his last year as an interviewer.'
As the former MP made a bitter face, there was a knock, and a voice followed.
"Shall we bring in the next applicant?"
***
In the first seat sat a boy with a theatrical background.
In the second seat, there was an empty, transparent chair.
Naturally, I headed to the last seat.
As soon as I sat down, I observed the interviewers.
'There he is.'
Unfortunately, he was right in front of me.
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the professor's gaze remained fixed on the documents.
He didn't even glance at the students.
On the other hand, the other interviewers—especially the man seated on the far left—showed a lot of interest in us.
He first looked at the transparent chair and then at Jack 'Tiger' Grylls.
"You have an animal in your middle name?"
"Did you put it there yourself?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it sounds bold."
"Haha, that's funny."
The interviewer looked back at the documents.
Then, noticing something unusual, he asked another question.
"It says here your father is Michael 'Bear' Grylls. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
At Jack's response, the interviewer smiled slightly.
"He was our party's parliamentary leader."
"He served as an MP for 20 years, quite an incredible man. He was respected by everyone."
"Maybe in Parliament, but at home, he wasn't great."
"Excuse me?"
"He keeps trying to push his dream of sending me to a royal school, even though I dream of being a soldier."
Jack's answer made the interviewer laugh heartily.
"Boldness runs in the family, it seems."
However, that reaction was short-lived.
"Let's set aside the small talk and officially start the interview," said the interviewer who had revealed he was a member of parliament as he looked at the documents.
"Benedict?"
The theatrical boy looked straight ahead.
"What do you think is Britain's greatest contribution to human history?"
There was no right answer to this question.
It was asked to understand the student's values.
Without hesitation, Benedict answered.
"I believe the mere fact that Britain produced the great writer, Shakespeare, is enough to justify its existence."
"Ho-ho."
The interviewer seemed more interested in Benedict's tone than his answer.
Indeed, he pointed that out specifically.
"You have a typical aristocratic accent."
"Do I?"
"It feels very natural, like I'm speaking to a nobleman from a thousand-year-old lineage."
"Maybe it's because I've immersed myself in Shakespeare's works that the old-fashioned manner of speech has rubbed off on me."
Benedict didn't seem to mind much.
The interviewer soon flipped through the documents and asked again.
"It says here that your recommendation letter was written by the Minister of Culture?"
"Yes."
"How did you come to know them?"
"I once won the grand prize at a theater festival hosted by the city of London. The minister was the one who presented the award."
"Did you perform a Shakespearean character?"
"Of course."
A student who can't be explained without mentioning Shakespeare.
The interviewer seemed to think that was enough and turned his attention to Jack Grylls.
"I'll ask you the same question I asked Benedict."
"Huh?"
"What do you think is Britain's greatest contribution to human history?"
"Without a doubt, it's the creation of the Commandos."
"The Commandos?"
At this point, Jack Grylls spoke boldly, like a tiger.
"They're our special forces, established by Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Not only did they become the prototype for modern military units, but the term 'Commando' has become a general noun used to refer to special forces now."
Perhaps the interviewer thought Jack would continue talking about the military forever, so he gently shifted the question.
"Anything else besides the Commandos?"
"Being the birthplace of rugby is also a great achievement."
Rugby, along with rowing, is a sport that represents elitism.
Maybe that was why the interviewer's face brightened for the first time.
"Why is rugby important?"
"Rugby is a sport where you run holding a ball into the opponent's territory. It's reminiscent of…"
"…?"
"It's reminiscent of a well-trained paratrooper unit. Rugby itself is almost equivalent to military training."
"If I had the authority, I'd approve your enlistment right now."
"But you only have the authority for admissions to the royal school, don't you?"
"And even then, I only hold 33% of the decision."
Hearing that, Jack let out a small sigh.
He chuckled.
The interview atmosphere wasn't bad.
With the two previous candidates being so unique, I seemed rather ideal by comparison.
The only thing that bothered me was, of course, Professor Timothy sitting across from me.
But for some reason, he hadn't said a word.
He wasn't even paying attention to his colleagues' questions.
His gaze remained fixed solely on the documents.
Then it happened.
"Ji-hoon?"
"Yes."
The interviewer, who had revealed he was a member of parliament, looked at me and asked.
"What question do you think I'm going to ask?"
"Perhaps, 'What do you think Britain's greatest contribution to human history is?'"
"Exactly. You're the third, so you've had plenty of time to prepare. Let's hear it."
Just as I was about to answer.
"Wait."
A voice suddenly interrupted.
It was Professor Timothy sitting across from me.
It was such a rare occurrence that his colleagues turned to him in surprise.
Regardless of the reaction around him, Timothy continued with a sly expression.
"The question for the last candidate should be different. That would be fair, wouldn't it?"
Timothy then fixed his gaze on me.
Just by the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew who I was.
Of course, he would recognize me after seeing what was written on my resume.
Like a lion eyeing its prey before devouring it, he licked his lips.
That's how his face appeared to me just before he asked the question.
With a crooked smile, Timothy asked.
"What contribution have you made to humanity?"
"Are you aware of my age?"
"You're probably about the same age as the boy sitting next to you and the one next to him."
Smirk.
"It's the third question, but it can't be the same, can it?"
But asking a 16-year-old what contributions he's made to humanity?
I calmly met his gaze.
Then, with utmost composure, I spoke.
"I have gifted humanity with one of da Vinci's unpublished works."
"…What?"
"I unearthed a painting that was on the verge of being forgotten in a storage room and proved it was a da Vinci."
His face twisted in disbelief.
But I continued, undeterred.
"Through this process, a new appraisal technique was born—a thoroughly scientific and objective method."
I added a brief explanation.
"For those clinging to the old ways, it must have been like a bolt from the blue. But what could they do? A horse-drawn carriage can't compete with a car."
Timothy's expression was one of utter bewilderment.
Instead of humbling myself, I was challenging him?
At first, he probably couldn't believe what was happening.
Then, as he read the sincerity in my eyes, it gradually dawned on him.
The delayed anger flared even more intensely because of it.
"Are you saying this for me to hear?"
"Of course. You asked the question, so naturally, I'm answering it for you, sir…"
"Are you mocking me right now?!"
"…?"
"How dare you speak like this…!"
His agitated reaction was enough to shock the other interviewers.
"You're disqualified! Get out immediately!"
"Wait, why are you acting like this all of a sudden?"
The former MP hastily tried to calm Timothy down.
But Timothy, like a wild horse refusing to be tamed, began to lose control.
"As long as I'm sitting in this interviewer's seat…"
"Please, stop this…"
"A brat like you will never set foot near the royal school, understand that!"
"Why are you treating a student like this…?"
"Science this, science that! You're shamelessly spewing nonsense based on fabricated data!"
"Isn't anyone out there?"
Finally, the tightly closed door opened, and a staff member entered.
The former MP pleaded with the staff to calm Timothy down, while Timothy continued to shout at the top of his lungs, demanding that I be dragged out immediately.
In that moment of chaos, it was hard to tell whether we were in an interview room or a marketplace.
Then suddenly—
Bang! Bang!
Loud knocks came from the door, as if someone was about to break it down.
"Silence, everyone!"
A stern voice boomed from outside the door.
Instantly, the room fell eerily quiet, as if the chaos from moments ago had never existed.
Even Timothy, who had been raging uncontrollably, stopped in his tracks, a clear sign of the authority behind that voice.
Footsteps approached the door, growing louder with each step.
Then the voice spoke again, even more commanding this time.
"I have come to deliver the Queen's will on behalf of the royal family, so show the proper respect!"