Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: A Dream of a House with a Yard
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After that, we dragged ourselves to a few more real estate offices.
But there were no leads worth a damn.
Greedy scammers blinded by commission fees,
old geezers who looked down on us because of our young faces,
and pushy salesmen trying to offload the most expensive junk listings no matter what.
It was the same pattern every time.
They'd start off fawning over us like we were newlyweds, but the second they smelled money, their eyes would change, and they'd feed us lies to reel us in.
We felt like we'd met every con artist in the city all in one day.
In the end, worn out from the midday heat and our disillusionment with humanity, we ducked into the nearest cheap franchise cafe—the kind you see everywhere.
The air conditioning's cool blast chilled our sweat-soaked bodies.
We collapsed into the plastic chairs, our whole bodies heavy as lead.
I mindlessly chugged an iced Americano packed with ice.
The bitterness sliding down my throat somehow eased the fatigue.
That's when Yura, sitting across from me, spoke up out of nowhere.
"Hey, isn't this ridiculous?"
"What is?"
I mumbled back, chewing on the straw.
Yura slowly scanned the gaudy, tacky interior of the cafe with empty eyes.
Fluorescent lights, plastic tables, and speakers blasting ear-splitting K-pop.
"Us."
She gave a bitter smile.
"We've made more money than the top 1% in Korea..."
Her gaze shifted back to me.
"And yet here we are, chilling in the cheapest franchise cafe around."
Her words hit me like a punch. I couldn't muster a response.
The plastic cup in my hand suddenly felt pathetic.
Multi-billionaires in assets.
But our bodies and minds hadn't taken a single step out of that shitty hillside slum rental.
Lost in those tangled thoughts, I turned my gaze to the window.
And that's when a big banner on a rundown building across the street caught my eye.
[Detached House for Sale, 450 Million, Quick Sale]
I'd just glanced over absently.
But in that instant, a long-forgotten fragment of memory surfaced from the depths of my mind.
When was it... elementary school?
It was the day I first visited a friend's house—the one I'd somehow gotten close to.
A wide yard carpeted in green grass.
A white two-story house.
And a big golden retriever happily bounding around the yard, tail wagging.
The scene of the family laughing together over dinner in the sunlit living room.
That day, I'd gotten my first faint taste of the warmth of a "family" and a real "home."
Well, it ended with me getting beaten like a dog by the orphanage director because their piggy bank went missing that evening and they pegged me as the thief...
No one believed me.
The injustice of being automatically guilty just for being an orphanage kid came flooding back too.
Caught up in that bittersweet, nostalgic memory, I blurted out to Yura without thinking.
"Hey."
I kept staring at the banner outside as I asked,
"You ever... think about living in a house with a yard?"
She looked at me like I was a dreamy little kid, her eyes full of pity.
She was ever the realist.
"A detached house? I've seen YouTube videos—people say you regret it 100% of the time and just lose money."
Her cold words shattered the green lawn vision blooming in my head.
I grumbled despite myself.
"Goddamn it, you fucking bitch... so fucking devoid of romance."
"Does romance pay the bills?"
Yura brushed off my whining and zeroed in on the most practical, most brutal issue.
"Plus, don't those houses usually sit way out in the suburbs? What about my school?"
"Oh..."
Right, her school was smack in the city center.
She couldn't commute from one end of the city to the other every day.
Out in the sticks with no subway? Driving hours daily wasn't realistic.
I knew the plan was impossible in practice, but for some reason, it kept tugging at me.
A wide yard, two-story house, and a happy dog running around inside.
That "normal" family scene I'd never once had kept replaying in my mind.
'Is there... really no way?'
I found myself blankly staring at the banner again.
The 450 million price tag stared back.
It was pocket change for us, so why did it feel so out of reach?
Maybe she caught my lingering gaze.
Yura tsked from across the table, looking exasperated.
The sound snapped me back to reality.
And that's when a very dangerous—but very logical—idea began to sprout in my head.
I looked straight at Yura and opened my mouth.
"Hey, Yura."
I deliberately poked at her sore spot.
"You're treated like a fucking whore at school anyway, right? Like dirt."
Her brow furrowed ever so slightly at my words.
She shot me a glare.
"So?"
"Even if you graduate and land a good job, the second you run into classmates or seniors, you're fucked, right?"
"...You picking a fight with me right now?"
Sharp anger crept into her voice.
Her fingers tapped the table. I shook my head and laid out my real point.
"No, that's not it."
I dropped the question that would upend her whole life.
"Do you really have to graduate college?"
"......Huh?"
"I mean, does it even matter? For what we do."
Her eyes widened into circles.
She hadn't grasped the true meaning of my question yet.
I gazed at her and murmured inwardly.
'Truth is, me, Yura, Chaewon—we're all the same.'
Bottom-feeders crawling desperately through a life with no future.
We just wanted out of this hellhole reality.
She'd clawed her way into a decent city university, studying her ass off to escape that suffocating poverty and her broken home.
That was her one shot at freedom.
But to pay for tuition and living expenses on that "bright future" path, she ended up selling her body.
And as payback,
Her one escape—"college"—had turned into an inescapable "maze" that branded her a whore and despised her as trash.
The cold stares in class every day, the whispers behind her back—they were eating away at her bit by bit.
Looking into her eyes, I thought it again.
Did a college diploma still mean anything, stumbling lost and wounded through that maze?
Not when we had a whole new path open to us.
A path where money was our weapon to build our own world.
Yura stayed silent for a long time.
She stared out the window, as if bidding farewell to the ordinary future she'd walked toward—and nearly continued on.
Her finger traced the rim of her plastic cup, lost in deep thought.
A moment later, she muttered with a hollow, resigned face.
"Yeah. It really doesn't matter... Fucking pointless stubbornness... You're right."
With her answer, I nailed it down.
"So, school problem solved, yeah?"
"...Yeah."
Yura nodded reluctantly.
But she snapped back to her money-obsessed self and laid down her terms firmly.
"But I'm not putting my money into that house. Prices are gonna tank— you think I'm crazy?"
'Goddamn money demon...'
I inwardly marveled at her ironclad stance.
She wouldn't spend a single won if it meant devaluing her assets.
Right then, her next question followed.
"But what about Chaewon?"
That clicked every puzzle piece in my head into place.
My dream.
Yura's reality.
Chaewon and Haneul's issue.
The one perfect solution that fixed it all flashed into my mind.
I grinned at Yura.
"We're buying a two-story detached house."
"...What?"
"First floor for Chaewon and Haneul. Second floor for you and me."
I started explaining my flawless plan.
"And we do our 'work' only on the second floor, our space. How's that? Haneul goes to daycare, kindergarten, school later... We'll have tons of opportunities, right?"
Yura's eyes slowly widened at my words.
She was finally getting it—this perfect, insane plan of mine.
Her lips parted slightly, unable to hide her surprise.
I grinned at her.
And to explain this perfect plan to the last team member, I decided to call her here.
I pulled out my phone and texted Chaewon: Important talk—get to the cafe NOW.
About ten minutes later,
The cafe's glass door swung open, and Chaewon walked in.
But she wasn't alone.
A tiny hand gripped hers tightly.
My eyes instinctively went to the owner of that little hand.
An overwhelmingly adorable little creature toddling in, holding Chaewon's hand.
Yoon Haneul, age 6.
I was face-to-face with the girl I'd only seen in videos a few days ago.
Blazing yellow blonde hair just like her mom's.
Big round eyes.
Chubby cheeks.
In her little dress, she looked just like a doll.
Spotting me, the cute little thing ducked behind her mom for a second.
Wary of the stranger, she peeked out cautiously.
Chaewon gently nudged her daughter's back, bringing her over to me.
And the little one bowed almost 90 degrees, folding like paper, and greeted me in the brightest, most sparkling voice.
"Hello! I'm Yoon Haneul, Yoon Chaewon's daughter! I'm six years old!"
I couldn't respond or even think in the face of this small, polite, overwhelmingly cute creature's greeting.
I just stared down at her blankly.
Some strange warmth bloomed in my chest.