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# 4: The Goose and the Lottery
That day, Do-hyeon could not remember how he had gotten home from work.
He simply walked through the rain without an umbrella.
His hair and clothes were completely soaked, but he did not care.
No, if anything, he was happy because the cold rain seemed to confirm that what he had seen was not a dream.
After returning to his studio apartment, Do-hyeon changed out of his wet clothes and sat on the floor.
His heart was still pounding, and his fingertips trembled slightly.
I can see tomorrow.
I can see tomorrow.
That fact slowly swelled inside his chest, growing larger and larger.
Fifty-eight years old.
A life in which all he possessed was debt.
A man on the verge of being forced out of his company, abandoned by his family, and living with a negative bank balance.
A man with every door in the world closed to him, a man who had nothing left to lose.
And yet, that man possessed one ability that no one else had.
The ability to see tomorrow.
Do-hyeon covered his face with his trembling hands.
For a moment, something escaped him that could have been either laughter or tears.
Until now, he had thought this ability was completely useless.
Knowing that it would rain tomorrow could not change his life.
When he was young, it had merely been a strange fantasy.
As an adult, it had been nothing more than an irritating sense of déjà vu.
But now it was different.
Knowing tomorrow might actually...
A single thought suddenly flashed through Do-hyeon's mind.
If he knew what would happen tomorrow...
There were things in this world that he could obtain simply by knowing tomorrow in advance.
Tomorrow's weather.
Tomorrow's news.
Tomorrow's...
Do-hyeon slowly raised his head.
Rain was still falling outside the window.
But his eyes were completely different from the day before.
These were not the dead eyes of the man who had been making ramen and shedding tears just days ago.
There was a spark burning again.
A spark that had been extinguished for a very long time.
If I know tomorrow...
I can change things.
I can change this hellish life.
Do-hyeon clenched his fists tightly.
And that night, he went to bed again.
This time, not out of fear, but with excitement.
What should he do with this ability?
Do-hyeon hugged his knees and thought about it for a long time.
In truth, the answer had been lurking in one corner of his mind from the very beginning.
It was so obvious, so blatant, that he had been afraid to even say it aloud.
The lottery.
Whenever that thought came to him, Do-hyeon shook his head.
It seemed like too easy an answer.
Life could not possibly be that simple.
There had to be some kind of catch.
To a man who had lived diligently all his life, suddenly becoming rich seemed almost like committing a sin.
But soon, he laughed at himself.
Sin?
Diligence?
What had that diligence brought him?
He had spent more than a decade working himself to the bone to support his family, and in return, he had received
divorce papers and a mountain of debt.
His bank account was negative despite having lived honestly.
Meanwhile, the wife who had abandoned him was happily living with another man in the American house he had paid for.
The world was not fair.
Living a good life did not guarantee that good things would happen to you.
First prize in the lottery.
The prize money was usually several billion won.
Even after taxes, he could take home more than half of it.
That much money would be enough to pay off every debt crushing him, with plenty left over.
Not merely enough to clear his debts.
It would be enough to start his entire life over.
The problem was how to do it.
Do-hyeon carefully analyzed his ability.
What he saw was “the scenes he himself would experience during the following day.”
He had seen the sudden shower because he would personally be looking out that window the next day.
He had seen the person who would bump into his shoulder because he would personally experience that incident.
Then the lottery should work the same way.
Every Saturday night, the lottery drawing was broadcast on television.
If he sat in front of the television at that time and watched the drawing, the six winning numbers that appeared on the
screen would enter his field of vision.
And those numbers would be part of the “tomorrow scene” that his ability allowed him to see in advance.
The process was simple.
On Friday night, before going to sleep, he would make a wish.
“Show me the numbers I'll see on tomorrow night's lottery broadcast.”
Then he would know Saturday's winning numbers in advance.
And before ticket sales closed on Saturday, he could buy a ticket using those numbers.
Perfect.
For someone who could see tomorrow, it seemed almost ridiculously easy.
Do-hyeon went over the plan in his head again and again.
Was there a flaw?
Had he overlooked anything?
The more he examined it, the less reason he found for it not to work.
Everything was uncertain except for one thing.
His ability had never been wrong.
But the real problem was somewhere completely unexpected.
Money.
At that moment, Do-hyeon opened his wallet.
There was one ten-thousand-won bill and several one-thousand-won bills.
That was all the cash he had.
His bank account was negative, so his cards had already been blocked.
He could not even cover the interest on his debt due next week.
There was no way he could have spare money.
Do-hyeon let out a hollow laugh.
He could potentially hold the winning numbers worth billions of won in his hands, yet he was worried because he did not
even have enough money to buy the lottery ticket.
Could there be a greater irony than this?
But it was not something to laugh about.
He seriously began searching the room.
He opened the wardrobe and checked the pockets of his coats one by one.
Inside the inner pocket of a coat he had worn last winter, he found two crumpled one-thousand-won bills.
He opened the desk drawer and found a few coins rolling around.
He even found several five-hundred-won coins at the bottom of his bag.
He even shook out the piggy bank that had been shoved into a corner of the room.
After searching the entire room and scraping together every bit of money he could find, he had around twenty-four
thousand won.
Do-hyeon spread the coins across the floor and counted them.
One coin.
Then another.
He counted the money carefully, like a child counting his allowance.
A fifty-eight-year-old department manager at a major corporation was crouched on the floor of a five-pyeong studio
apartment, counting coins.
It was pitiful.
But at the same time, his heart was pounding more than it ever had before.
This money was his last seed capital.
These twenty-four thousand won might be the seed that could change his entire life.
One lottery ticket cost one thousand won.
With twenty-four thousand won, he could buy twenty-four games.
But if he knew the numbers exactly, one game would be enough.
With just one thousand won, he could potentially get his hands on billions.
Still, Do-hyeon decided to be cautious.
There might be some variable, no matter how unlikely.
The automatic ticket machine could malfunction.
He might copy the numbers incorrectly.
So he decided to buy five games with the same numbers.
Five thousand won.
If he bought five tickets, then even if one or two contained an error, he thought he would still be safe.
He would keep the rest of the money as emergency cash.
After all, if he won, this amount of money would become meaningless anyway.
Do-hyeon carefully gathered the coins and put them into his wallet.
Then he tucked the wallet deep into his chest pocket.
As though he were handling the most precious asset in the world.
Now all he had to do was wait for Friday night.
And so Friday came.
That day felt like an entire year to Do-hyeon.
He barely managed to work while repeatedly checking the clock.
He wanted night to come quickly.
He wanted to go to bed and see tomorrow's numbers.
That was all he could think about.
After work, Do-hyeon returned to his studio apartment and started to make ramen as usual.
Then he stopped.
He had absolutely no appetite.
Whether it was because of nervousness or excitement, his stomach was churning.
So instead of ramen, he drank a glass of water and spread out his blanket early.
Normally, this was the time when he would be unable to sleep.
Nights spent tossing and turning over debts, work, and endless worries.
But tonight was different.
It was not worry making his heart pound.
It was anticipation.
Do-hyeon lay beneath his blanket and closed his eyes.
Then he composed himself.
Over the past few days, he had instinctively realized that, above all else, earnestness was important when using his
ability.
It had been the same when he was young.
The night before a school outing.
The night before an exam.
Whenever he wished with all his heart, he had been able to see the following day.
Slowly and clearly, he made his wish in his mind.
“Tomorrow. Saturday night. Show me the moment when I'm sitting in front of the television watching the lottery drawing.
Show me all six winning numbers that appear on the screen, without missing a single one. Show them to me clearly.”
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Like reciting a prayer, he repeated the same words over and over in his mind.
At first, nothing appeared.
There was only pitch-black darkness.
Do-hyeon grew anxious.
Could it not work tonight?
Was there some kind of condition to his ability?
But he did not give up.
He continued wishing.
He imagined himself tomorrow night.
Sitting in this narrow studio apartment, in this very spot, staring intently at the small television in front of him.
Then, just as sleep began to creep over him, something began to emerge from the darkness.
A scene unfolded.
It was tomorrow night.
Do-hyeon was sitting in this very studio apartment, in this very spot.
A small television was turned on in front of him, and the familiar lottery broadcast was playing on the screen.
A studio.
A host.
And a transparent lottery machine.
Inside the machine, numbered balls were spinning around and around.
The balls bounced here and there, pushed about by the air.
In the dream, Do-hyeon watched them while holding his breath.
Eventually, the first ball rolled out through the tube, and a large number appeared on the screen.
Do-hyeon engraved that number into his mind.
Then the second ball came out.
He memorized it too.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
And then the sixth ball.
Finally, another ball rolled out announcing the bonus number.
At the bottom of the screen, the six winning numbers for that day's draw appeared in a row.
Do-hyeon stared intensely at the six numbers and engraved them into his mind again and again.
He did not want to forget them.
He carved them deep into his memory as though stamping them there.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
At that moment, his eyes snapped open.
It was dawn, and his heart was pounding like crazy.
No.
His entire body was drenched in a cold sweat.
Do-hyeon abruptly sat up and fumbled around beside his head.
His phone.
Where was his phone?
He finally found it and turned on the screen with trembling hands.
Four in the morning.
He opened the notes app.
Before he could forget them, he quickly began writing down the numbers he had just seen in his dream.
But his fingers were trembling, and he kept making typos.
Do-hyeon took a deep breath.
Then he slowly entered each number accurately.
The first number.
The second.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
The sixth.
After entering them all, he stared at the screen for a long time.
Six numbers were clearly written there.
These are...
Tomorrow's winning numbers.
Do-hyeon slowly ran his fingertips across the numbers.
He could not believe it.
Could these tiny numbers really change his life?
Could these six numbers on the screen really become billions of won?
But he did not doubt it.
He could not doubt it.
His ability had not been wrong even once over the past few days.
It was the same ability that had accurately predicted the sudden shower.
There was no way these numbers could be wrong.
Do-hyeon lay back down.
But he could not sleep.
He stared at the ceiling with his eyes wide open, waiting for dawn.
There was only one thing left now.
When the sun rose, he would buy a lottery ticket with those numbers.
And tonight, he would confirm it with his own two eyes.