And Yet, I'm Still Hungry
The famous quote "And yet it moves" holds profound philosophical weight. There's this Renaissance-era astronomer, mathematician, physicist, and philosopher named Galileo Galilei. He became renowned for proposing the shocking idea—shocking to people of his time—that the Earth orbits the Sun around. That fame ultimately led to him being dragged before the Inquisition for blasphemy, which made him even more famous. But after the trial, he supposedly uttered those legendary words: "And yet it moves." That's what cemented his place in modern memory.
Except it's total bullshit. Galileo never said that. It's apparently a fabrication by some 18th-century novelist—I'm not sure on the details—but what's certain is he never uttered those words. If he had, he'd have been burned at the stake for blasphemy right then and there. People back then were on average like, "Losing faith means death itself...!"
Of course, whether Galileo was burned, placed under house arrest, or acquitted through overwhelming charisma that even conquered the Church, his monumental contributions to the birth of modern mechanics remain unchanged. Likewise, the sheer coolness of "And yet it moves" is utterly unshakable. There's good reason that 18th-century novelist's invention has endured into the modern day.
So, invoking that supremely badass quote to supplement my woefully deficient liberal arts education, and applying it to my current predicament: And yet, I'm hungry.Gurgle... My stomach let out a rumble. An empty gut threatening me, demanding food.
Just as humanity's opinions don't alter the truth that the Earth orbits the Sun, no matter my situation, the fact that I'm starving right now doesn't change. My stomach says: 'No matter how suddenly you've lost your PhD, master's, bachelor's, high school diploma, manhood, name, money, fame, papers, and all that other crap—I'm still hungry. Eat something, dumbass.'
But stomach, c'mon... what are you even saying? Can't you see what's important right now?
'What bullshit is that?'
You know what you said. I have no money.
Balance: 389 won
I'm dead serious, no money, fuck.
===
To understand how my balance ended up at a pathetic 389 won, I need to explain the astonishing downfall of pro-life-waster Seol Yuna. Her finale went something like this.
For real? I was seriously suicidal, but lacked the guts to act on it, so I resolved to thoroughly find a way out of this mess. First things first: I need money now.
Ways to get money? Plenty. But the most realistic right now? Borrowing. Going out to work won't pay instantly. What lunatic boss pays before the work's done? And no way am I touching emergency loans or payday apps—gotta pay rent with those.
Seol Yuna, you absolute lunatic, blew the rent money on superchats too.
So, with my options limited, only one path: advance pay from my job! Just as fish can't live without water, people can't without money. For a humorous, literary, liberal-arts gag: humans are basically money-fish. Nah, sounds weird—keep that mouth shut.
Anyway, to get money, I need work; for work, a job. Seol Yuna wasn't impressive, but she had a decent gig: VTuber video editor. Editing clips for a mid-tier VTuber. A job fitting for a psycho who blows rent and food money on her oshi.
Oh, lest there's misunderstanding: I'm not dissing the job. I'm dissing the person. Jobs have no nobility, money has no nobility. If it did, toss some of that lowly cash my way, please.
So, to snag that precious pay, I drafted a supremely formal, polite advance request to my VTuber client—yes, in that overwhelming superior-inferior dynamic (usually called employer-employee).
I didn't agonize long; the formal, polite advance request popped out in seconds.
"...Perfect."
Self-praise from my grad school days, which never fades...
"...? What the hell is this."
Indie VTuber Hoshigami Meru (real name: Han Seowon) was utterly baffled by the message. A early-20s streamer, her demographic shares a lack of real-world experience. And humans or animals alike fear the unknown.
'W-wait... Do I have to send something like this too?'
Fearing legal mumbo-jumbo she didn't grasp, she reread the editor's message obsessively. Once understood, drawing on secondhand social savvy from dramas and webtoons, Han Seowon replied—and wired 200,000 won to Seol Yuna's account.
Her half-baked indirect experience took about two hours to craft that professional response. Meaning Seol Yuna suffered two extra hours of hunger pangs.
Differences in perspective, experience, position—youth bred this mishap. Inexperienced young streamer, grad-school-only young editor, unused AI...
...Prime youth.
'I wanna die.'
Convenience store clerk Kim Cheolsu (28) suffered today's barrage of assholes.
"Heyyy... Do you know who I am...?! Huh!!"
'How the hell would I know who you are?'
A mostly bald geezer pulled the "Do you know who I am?" routine. Then, "...Put it on my tab."
'As if.'
A daytime drunk demanding credit invaded. And "Ah, fuck! Shut up and give me smokes quick!!"
'Why does this prick keep coming? Everyone uses vapes now, right?'
Even an endangered species: high schooler buying loosies. After the emotional marathon, Kim Cheolsu shoved them out, slumped in the counter chair with a sigh.
He desperately wanted to quit ASAP, but endured. No other job post-college, and even this was fading.
The kiosk declared: "Part-timers... are ultimately losers of a bygone era...!!!"
And Kim Cheolsu... "!!! ...!!!" No, he couldn't speak. A mere 28-year-old clerk lacked the clout to retort. That doughnut had solid connections, special skills, fancy titles.
A machine wouldn't listen anyway.
"Haaa... I wanna die."
After banishing assholes and restocking, his habitual suicide wish slipped out. Self-mockery from unchangeable reality—too ingrained to fix now. Hopelessness gnawed like a shadow, tempting him to make the habit real, when—
"Um, excuse me..."
A tiny, alluringly sweet voice pierced his ear.
"Wha—! Y-yes, yes...!"
Startled to his feet, Kim Cheolsu eyed the voice's owner. A woman in a hoodie zipped to her chin, head fully covered. Bonus: massive mask hiding half her face. Actually, the face was tiny, mask normal-sized.
"H-here..."
Snapping to, he saw her items, remembered he was the clerk. "Ah, uh... Sure."
He scanned barcodes, tapped her phone for payment—struggling not to show shame over his idiot yell.
"Ah..."
Too many items for her slender arms.
"B-bag...?"
He offered one, but "N-no, it's fine..." She declined politely. Hesitating, she unzipped her hoodie to stuff in cup ramen.
"...!!!"
That instant, Kim Cheolsu beheld a new world.
"Th-thanks for your hard work~..."
Hoodie stuffed with ramen, bento in hand, she tottered out. Recalling her fading silhouette, the zipper's wonderland, that enchanting voice looping in his head, Kim Cheolsu declared:
"...Yeah. Not dying yet."
The "incurable" habit? Cured in a flash.