Numbers from the Grave

Next time, it would be the shin. But how the hell was he supposed to scrape together quick cash...? With this puny 9-year-old body. If he were just a bit bigger, ways to get money would be everywhere. Once he smashed the heads of that loan shark thug and his whole organization, the debt would vanish like it never existed. He wouldn't even need the smartphone's powers—he could pull in billions right away.

"How am I gonna get the money..."

"Do-hyun!"

Hong Yu-bin came running from afar. He walked to school with her.

"Kyaaah! W-what happened to your hand!?"

Looking down, blood was dripping from it. Must've gotten scraped while fleeing from those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thugs.

"Spit on it and it'll heal."

"What kinda spit?! Let's go to the hospital right now!"

Hong Yu-bin pulled out her phone. A phone for a 9-year-old in this era... It hit him how well-off her family must be. He ran into Yu-bin's dad, who'd sped over in his car.

"Hello."

"You must be Do-hyun! Your hand!? Are you okay!?"

It said something about how precious Yu-bin was raised... Her dad rushing over at a single phone call. First time meeting him, but he looked foreign yet spoke Korean fluently. He'd always thought Yu-bin didn't quite look fully East Asian. A halfie, huh.

"It's nothing..."

"Nothing my ass! Hop in. You too, Yu-bin."

"Okay!"

Really nothing, but they were making a huge fuss. Thanks to Yu-bin's dad, he ended up at the hospital. As expected, it was just a scrape—no stitches needed. Seriously, spit would've fixed it, but they were both overreacting hard. The nurse swabbed it with disinfectant, warning it'd sting, but he didn't even flinch. She tilted her head.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Nope."

"So mature. Or is it 'cause your girlfriend's here?"

The uncle was itching to tease. Adults in this era just loved messing with kids on sight. But he wasn't some kid reacting to that crap.

"Haha, the little guy's embarrassed~ So cute! Haha!"

"Heh heh. Indeed."

Crunch. The two kept grinding away nonstop... If Yu-bin's dad hadn't been laughing, he wouldn't have held back either.

The familiar sting of hospital disinfectant filled his nose... And then it hit him like a thunderbolt—a fact that slammed into his brain. Thanks to that, he realized what a fucking retard he'd been. No one dumber than him.

Copying novels had made him think writing wasn't bad. Show potential under his dad's name, snag a publishing deal, and he could've pulled in millions easy. Looking back, that past self was a total moron.

But he had the smartphone, didn't he? A cheat key better than Bitcoin, where a few thousand won investment turned into tens or hundreds of millions weekly. Right there: the lottery!

Back in his army days, he'd read a webtoon. Regression genre. The protagonist regretted not memorizing lottery numbers. No one's memory could handle that anyway. But he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't need special memory.

The smartphone.

After light treatment at the hospital, he arrived at school and turned on the smartphone.

From memory, the debt choking his family was 1.1 billion. ...One shot, done.

His young mother had started a business with many friends pooling in. It seemed promising at first... but the IMF crashed it, and most of her friends took the extreme way out. Yet Mom clung to life, enduring horrific blame. All because of him...

Then someone tapped his shoulder. Lost in thought, this idiot pissed him off. He swung his elbow to smack the hand away, turning with killing intent to glare at his desk mate.

But before his eyes landed—

"Class rep!!! You mocking the teacher, you little shit!?"

"Huh!?"

"No greeting!?"

"S-sorry!"

Did some ghost who died from not greeting this old hag possess him...? Whatever, it'd blow over in a day. He shot up and saluted the teacher.

Boring-ass second-grade life. But a few things kept him ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠interested. One: PE class. Another: secretly watching YouTube on the smartphone. And one more—

Smack!

Legal shakedown time. Shiny coins flying through the air brought a smile. Ah, illegal? ...Maybe.

The kids oohed as coins spilled. Pan-chi fever spread; plenty challenged him to top him. From 1,000 won to 10,000. In this era, a 500-won tteokbokki filled you up. Hanlim Elementary handing out 10,000-won allowances like pocket change—rich kids.

His first fight? That beggar bastard got him hated... Guess he was the beggar now. So he got serious. Fleecing kids' allowances sweetened the day, but criers got half back. Return half, and he was the world's kindest sage.

But... the gambling bugs. Even getting money back, they'd play more to recoup, lose everything. Most then snitched to parents. The ones out-cursed went nuclear with dye packs. Same as any gambling den.

But with his "win and return" image stuck, none of his business. They'd learn gambling's bitter taste young, swear off it as adults.

"Heh heh heh. Who pushed 'em into it~?"

He never suggested first. They begged till he reluctantly played. Days ended satisfied, watching his piggy bank pork up.

Next morning. Operation day—no room for error.

Dad woke weary, splashed cold water in sub-zero cold. Then gently stroked Min-ji's and his faces with callused hands, careful not to wake them.

"Daddy..."

"Did Daddy wake you? Sorry..."

Once a day, just to touch his kids' faces, then apologize for waking them. He rubbed his eyes, got up. Looked like greeting Dad as usual.

He pulled his bike out and executed the plan.

"Dad, I... had a weird dream."

Hugging Dad before he mounted, he sighed. Dad smiled.

"From the grave... creepy voices."

"Oh dear. Really?"

Dad's shit-eating grin made him wanna spit, but mission first.

"Yeah... scary voice repeating 10, 12, 15, 16, 26, 38, 39..."

"..."

Dad froze, counting numbers. Non-smoker but always bought lotto. He'd checked this round 10's insane rollover jackpot.

"Seven numbers...? Say again?"

"Yeah, remember 'em. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Sixteen..."

Rigid Dad dashed home for a Post-it, jotted them. Calmer now, he stared.

"...Who told you?"

"The grave."

Still stiff, every move wooden.

"D-Do-hyun, what'd you do with big money?"

"Big money?"

"Just suppose..."

"Mm... yesterday, weird uncles came home... Mom cried a ton?"

Dad bit his lip briefly. Reality sinking in, tremors gone. Expression vanished into a smile.

"Dad's off to work."

No more questions. He waved at Dad's back.

"Have a good day."

Dad gripped lotto tight over breakfast.

"Money for that, buy the kids chicken! How many'd you buy, you fool!!!"

Mom smacked his back, but he didn't wince. He'd bought multiple 2,000-won scratch-offs per game. Ballsy guy. Dropped tens of thousands on son's word, no hesitation.

"Do-hyun called these numbers."

"Do-hyun? Why him?"

"Said he dreamed 'em. Seven exact... And this jackpot's 80 billion."

"..."

Mom went quiet, couldn't eat, eyed the TV like Dad. Still thought lotto wasteful, tried snatching his.

"Lemme see..."

Mom's face twisted checking Dad's tickets.

"!!! Why five the same numbers!?"

"Do-hyun's numbers."

"Nooo!!! You idiot! Can't calculate profit but buy lotto!!!"

"Worried too many winners..."

"Too many!? Triple rollover and you think many winners!!?"

Mom's rage bigger than expected. Even he hadn't anticipated five identical tickets...