This Money Is (Really) Mine Now
I made the payment with the same old card I'd always used, then ignored my friends' questions, cold sweat sliding down my back.
Why would they freeze my transactions? Wasn't everything legal?
I dashed to the teacher and asked for permission to leave early. She took one look at me — already soaked through with cold sweat — and signed off on it without a fuss.
Guess all those years of living honestly were finally paying off.
I grabbed my phone and opened my banking app.
[Transfers have been restricted on this account for the prevention of financial fraud and verification of the source of funds. Please visit your nearest branch.]
There it was, plain as day on my screen.
"Source of funds?"
Fortunately, I had the evidence to prove exactly where my money had come from. With the USB that had once held my Bitcoin and printouts of my mining logs in hand, I headed for the bank.
I pulled a number ticket, waited my turn, and before long it arrived.
"How may I help you today, sir?"
"I'm here to get the transaction restriction on my account lifted."
"Of course. May I see your ID, please?"
I handed my ID over — and the teller's pupils dilated as she immediately picked up the phone and called somewhere.
Within moments, a man hurried over to me.
"Sir, if you'll follow me — we'll escort you to our VIP meeting room."
And so I was shown into the meeting room and took a seat on the sofa. He asked:
"Sir, would it be all right if I asked about the source of your funds?"
Even staring at the unbelievable sum of 130 billion won, he hadn't once pressed me about whether it was dirty money.
Have I been reading too many novels?
I showed him the evidence I'd brought and explained everything, and the branch manager made an urgent call somewhere. After an emergency consultation with the bank headquarters' Anti-Money Laundering (AML) team, they confirmed my funds were legitimate money that had come in through the crypto exchange B*** and lifted the freeze on my account.
Then the branch manager swallowed hard.
Now that the money was established as legal, his real business was only just beginning.
"Our bank's special premium fixed deposit..."
"And of course, your parents would both be enrolled as our very highest-tier VIPs..."
The branch manager's fervent courtship came pouring out, but I told him what I wanted.
"I'll deposit 20 billion won, and I'd like to try overseas stocks with the remaining 100 billion."
At that, the branch manager faltered.
"I'm... sorry? All 100 billion won into stocks??"
When I nodded, his eyes shook as though an earthquake had torn through his pupils. At the news that a hundred billion won was about to walk out his door, his face turned the color of ash.
He mulled it over for a moment, then — apparently deciding he couldn't just let me slip away like this — hastily produced another sheet of paper.
"Th-then please use our bank's affiliated brokerage! I'll waive the entire currency-exchange fee on the 100 billion, and completely eliminate the buying commission when you purchase your Apple shares! Naturally, we'll raise your parents to our very top VIP tier as well!"
For someone talking that fast, his enunciation is incredible...
Hm. A 100 percent preferential exchange rate with zero fees...
Not bad terms. I'd have to convert everything into dollars to buy American stocks anyway.
"Very well. Please proceed."
Only then did the branch manager breathe his sigh of relief and scramble to assemble his staff.
And so my funds were settled into place: 100 billion won sat in the dollar (USD) balance of the VIP-linked comprehensive account under my name at Kookm*n Bank, 20 billion won went into a one-year VIP special premium fixed deposit, and 10 billion won was set aside, ready to spend at a moment's notice.
Back home, I made up my mind to tell my parents — not everything, but enough that they would never have to wear themselves down again.
That evening, over dinner with my parents and my sister, I brought it up.
"Mom, Dad. There's something I need to tell you."
My parents trusted me and took pride in me — a son who studied hard and kept his nose clean at school.
"Hm? What is it, Chanhyuk??"
"Mom, I don't think you'll need to look for that job. I'm sorry for telling you so late."
The household finances weren't great, and Mom had been looking into a job in the school cafeteria, planning to earn a certification later on and join a company.
"What?? What are you talking about??"
Mom protested — and
"Hyuk, is something going on??"
Dad worried over me as well.
I told them, deliberately understating it, that I'd bought Bitcoin a while back and come into 10 billion won. Only when I showed them my bank balance did they finally believe me.
They wept with joy, and my own chest went tight.
I told them I'd be giving them 3 billion won. They refused tooth and nail, but I wouldn't bend, and in the end the money became theirs.
It'd be nice if they moved to a nicer apartment, too. And Dad could finally get a new car.
That thought crossed my mind as well. To make the gift official, I asked the Kookm*n Bank branch manager to handle all the complicated paperwork — and the gift tax alone came out to a staggering 2 billion won.
"Phew... I've already burned through half of it."
When I heard the gift tax alone was 2 billion won, I thought I'd misheard. Five billion won gone in total — but I wasn't worried.
The funds in my account were barely a pinch compared to my lovely Bitcoins, after all.
Then I turned my mind to the Apple investment.
Buying Apple now would still multiply my money fivefold or better, but next to Nvidia or Tesla, it's a tiny slice of the pie.
So I asked the branch manager to put 50 billion won into Nvidia, 40 billion into Tesla, and 10 billion into Apple.
With everything done, I stretched until my joints popped.
"Aaahh~ All the headache-inducing stuff is finally over. Now all that's left is to have some fun."
And with that, everything squared away, I went back to school.
"Chanhyuk!! You barely answered your calls — was something really wrong??"
Dajeong came asking.
"More than sick, I had things I needed to take care of. They worked out fine."
We passed the time trading stories — how worried she'd been when she saw my gloomy face at the school store a while back, and so on.
I had no intention of telling my friends how much money I had. Jealousy, greed — I believed the feelings that sprout in a person's heart at the sight of great wealth were only natural.
So I meant to keep it buried.
School life went on — dates with Dajeong, happy hours with my friends — but the thing I took most seriously was teaching my friends to study.
"Hey, hey — quit daydreaming and get to work."
Daehyun, dark circles hanging under his eyes, groaned at me.
"Dude, how the hell am I supposed to get into Hankuk University... I'm dying here, for real."
Our goal was Hankuk University — the hardest school in the country to get into.
"So what, you're not gonna hang out with me in college?? I've been teaching you, and you've clearly got a knack for this??"
Hard to believe, but this guy's brain was far from ordinary. If he kept at it like this, Hankuk University wouldn't remain a dream for long.
"Hm... Dajeong and Kim Se-ah are more than good enough for Hankuk, and..."
Kim Daehyun flinched as if pricked, a bad feeling washing over him.
"But you — I'm getting you into Hankuk no matter what it takes."
And so our third year of high school began — the journey toward Hankuk University.
Dajeong and Kim Se-ah, who'd never once shown up without looking put together, started arriving at school in masks, grimy and rumpled, while Daehyun shuffled through the halls like a walking corpse.
"Hey, a few all-nighters won't kill you. There are plenty of people out there working a lot harder than you."
Daehyun, apparently too drained even to argue, rasped out a plea in a voice like rusted iron.
"Pl...please, just stop the nagging for one second..."
I flashed him a devil's grin.
"Oh? You've still got the energy to talk back. Guess I can push you even harder, then."
And for the first time, genuine terror began to settle over Daehyun's face.
"Fighting!! Fighting!!"
"Go eat your good-luck taffy!!!"
The cheers rang out on the day of the CSAT. Carrying the hope that all of us would end up at Hankuk University together, I walked on.
The day the university posted its regular-admission acceptance list.
"YEEAAAAAHHH!!!!"
A man's ecstatic bellow spread through the classroom.
When the list showed Daehyun had made it into Hankuk University, the friends crowding around it murmured in disbelief.
"Holy shit! Kim Daehyun actually got into Hankuk???"
"Told you. The way that guy studied, I figured he'd make it."
Daehyun turned to me, bawling his eyes out.
"Sniff... Chanhyuk... thank you, man. Really..."
"You're the one who put in the work. What are you thanking me for?"
It was true I'd knocked some sense into Kim Daehyun every single time he dozed off mid-study session, and teaching him had cost me plenty of effort along the way.
Hm... come to think of it, I really did go through a lot.
"Hey, thinking about it, I suffered plenty too. Buy me a drink after we graduate."
Daehyun wiped away his tears and snot and shot back,
"Like hell I will, you punk..."
Thankfully, Dajeong and Kim Se-ah had apparently passed as well.
Not that it mattered — I'd passed too.
"So how does the guy who's never once dropped from first in the whole school plan on getting in through regular admissions?"
Kim Se-ah asked me.
Was it all the exercise and hard study that had drilled diligence into my bones? I'd only worked hard on my midterms and finals so my parents wouldn't worry. Even taking first in the school as easily as eating breakfast didn't guarantee a spot at Hankuk — I'd simply chosen the regular-admission route, that was all.
"Early admission just felt too uncertain, you know?"
And so, with all that effort behind us, we became adults.