The Weight of Money

"What on earth is all this? I could accept you landing a full-time job—you've always been a capable kid—but buying a house out of nowhere?"

"I got into a good company this time, so I was able to take out a decent loan."

His first paycheck had arrived.

The lingering sense that he still wasn't sure whether he'd really become a hunter or not sorted itself out in an instant.

That's right. I'm a hunter. An SS-rank hunter in the service of the South Korean government, no less.

Jisu found himself realizing, all over again and with a peculiar freshness, that he was riding the express rail to success. Awaken as a hunter and you never had to worry about going hungry—that was the promise of the profession. And at the very peak of it sat the hunters of S-rank and above.

An annual salary of sixty-eight billion won.

All of it became real enough to bring tears to his eyes the instant that staggering sum slammed into his account.

"Even so, a house this nice… You're not overreaching, are you? You're not running some shady business out the back door or anything?"

"Come on, what are you talking about? I'm not that kind of person. You didn't raise me that way, Mom."

"Well, no, but…"

His mother said it while looking over every corner of the apartment. By any cold, honest standard, it wasn't that nice of a place. A compact, corridor-style apartment about twenty years old, with a subway station nearby. Before his father's business had failed, they had lived in a better apartment than this, so it wasn't as though their quality of life had leapt into another universe.

Of course, Jisu could have bought something far nicer. But if he had, his mother would have started seriously questioning where the money was coming from. Climbing step by step was the wiser play.

"Still… ah, it really is a nice place. It truly is."

His mother lingered at the veranda for a long time. Compared to the view from the hillside multi-family house Jisu had been living in, this was incomparably more open. It wasn't as though the view itself was anything spectacular—but it was more than enough for a person to live in.

Listening to her idle talk about where she might put a flowerpot, Jisu would find himself thinking, again and again, that becoming a hunter had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a stroke of genuine luck.

"Anyway, I'm so glad you found a good job. You're a kid who can do anything you set your mind to. You just had the wrong parents, and you suffered yourself half to death at a young age…"

"Come on, Mom. Don't talk like that. I can actually earn some money now, so please don't worry so much and just focus on getting better. Okay?"

"Alright. Thank you. Thank you…"

Talking with her like that, a worry suddenly surfaced. His mother would almost certainly insist on tidying the rooms and taking over the housework herself.

I'd rather she didn't do any of that. I'd rather she just rested in her room…

His mother was a patient. Hers was a condition that would need lifelong management, which meant anything that put a strain on her body was best avoided. And for a patient of her age, even simple housework would clearly be a considerable burden.

He turned the problem over in his mind, then nodded sharply, as if something had just clicked.

Come to think of it, couldn't money solve that too? Someone to look after the house… Do people even still do that?

He thought it over for a moment, then unlocked his phone and checked a job board. Naturally, there was no one applying for a position that combined odd jobs and nursing care in a single role.

He was still wondering what to do about it when a text came in.

It wasn't an unusual message. Ever since they'd signed their contract, Seyeon had a habit of texting him on days when he hadn't been in contact. Each time, Jisu would send back the kind of bland corporate replies—"Yes," "Understood," "Got it," "Will do"—but he never left her on read, either.

It's always awkward to know what to say back. Maybe I should tell her she doesn't have to keep doing this… Wait a second.

Something occurred to him. He stepped into his room.

Right. Why not just ask Seyeon?

When she'd said to ask her anything, she probably hadn't meant anything quite like this. But so what? He'd been given to understand that even asking about the Hunter Association cafeteria menu would be perfectly fine.

Jisu carefully put the call through.

Seyeon picked up at quite literally lightning speed. A voice he hadn't heard in a while. The high-voltage energy, at least, was exactly the same.

"Ah—hello. You picked up really fast…"

"Well… is there somewhere I could find a person to, you know, do various kinds of work?"

Even as the words left his mouth, he couldn't hide how awkward they sounded. Had there really been no better way to put that? But words, once spoken, could not be taken back.

"Yes. So, I, uh, need to hire someone…"

And so Jisu explained the situation he was in.

He had only explained. That was all he had done. And yet—

"Hello! I'm Yoo Seyeon, and starting today I'll be helping your mother with all sorts of things! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Ah… hello…"

Jisu's mother exchanged a somewhat bewildered greeting with the brightly smiling Seyeon, then quickly sidled up to Jisu, who was standing beside her.

"Jisu, what in the world is this?"

"I thought you ought to be resting at home, Mom. So I hired someone. She's being paid to work, so please feel free to ask her for whatever you need."

"Even so, aren't you overdoing it? With our situation, what on earth…"

His mother looked uncomfortable, but Jisu's answer was firm.

"It's alright, Mom. It's not a big burden. If you push yourself and the illness flares up and you end up in the hospital, that would be a much bigger burden. I'd like you to focus on getting better this time. I've got a job now. I can earn a decent living."

"But to suddenly bring a young woman home like this…"

His mother let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sentence trail off, then answered as if she'd given up.

"Fine. When you make that face, you never back down no matter what anyone says. You were the same in elementary school. You beat a bully half to death and then refused to apologize, insisting you hadn't done anything wrong…"

"Why are you bringing up ancient history? Anyway, thank you for going along with it. From today on, please take it easy."

"That's right! Ma'am, is there anything you particularly like to eat? It's my first day, so I'll cook something delicious and put it on the table!"

"Something I like? Oh, anything you make will be just fine, miss. You really don't have to go to any trouble…"

"Hmm, so you're leaving it to me! Alright! I like that! Just give me a little time!"

With that, Seyeon shot off toward the kitchen like an arrow. Jisu followed her quick little steps and spoke as they went.

"Seyeon, thank you. Really."

"Hmm? For what? Whoa, there's almost nothing in here."

She was already rummaging through Jisu's refrigerator as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She really was an extraordinarily personable woman. He'd felt it from the first time she'd pitched him, but he was realizing all over again that sales was not a job just anyone could do.

"I'll stock it up. I mean—thank you for taking this on. I was a little uneasy, honestly. I was worried it might be out of line…"

"What? Out of line? No, no—if anything, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm the one who should be thanking you. You're paying me a proper wage, aren't you?"

Ironically, the only person Jisu had been able to think of was Seyeon, whom he'd barely even met a handful of times. When he'd explained his mother's situation and offered to pay her in exchange for a little help, she had agreed with genuine delight. A contract had been drawn up, of course, and the signatures were already on it.

"I know I'm paying you, but it still felt like a delicate thing to ask. I'm really grateful you took it so well."

"Jisu."

That was when it happened. Seyeon closed the refrigerator door she'd been rummaging through and looked at him with a seriousness he almost never saw on her face.

"Ah… yes?"

What is this? Did I mess something up?

Caught off guard, Jisu stared blankly at her face. The lightness that was so easy to read in her usual bouncing, high-energy manner was, in this moment, nowhere to be found.

"Ah, that's…"

This woman can make a face like that?

Jisu was overwhelmed by her gaze for a moment. Then he collected himself and answered.

"I'm sorry. I never pitied you—not even a little. If I offended you, I apologize."

At that, Seyeon smiled her usual bright smile again.

"No, no! I wasn't offended at all. I just felt like I wanted you to know. If I made things uncomfortable, I'm the one who should be sorry."

"Nah, not at all. Didn't bother me in the slightest."

"Great! Oh, right—could you stock up on onions, scallions, eggs, and some pork? And if there's anything your mother likes, feel free to grab that too!"

"Ah, yes! Will do."

Jisu answered, then opened his phone and got to work on the grocery order. It was a good era—one where you could do your shopping right from your phone. As long as you had money, you could order anything and have it delivered comfortably to your door.

Jisu found himself realizing, all over again, the weight of money that Seyeon had spoken of.

In the days since "that day," when the prices of most altcoins had suddenly skyrocketed, posts that were starting to cross a line had been trickling onto Coinler, the crypto community, one after another.

What crypto had to do with the Fourth Industrial Revolution was anyone's guess—but setting that aside, it was true that if you bought and held, it went up, and even if it dropped, a stretch of HODLing would send it climbing again before long.

It had become a game of money making money. Even the high school kids on the street and the old folks at the senior center couldn't stop talking about crypto, every last one of them.

Was this the new future that blockchain was supposed to bring?

Whether it was or it wasn't, these warning signs were spreading, growing a little larger with every passing day.

Money was everything, and if you did crypto, the HODL Rule meant you made money—so was that really all there was? Was all of this the singularity people had only ever talked about, one face of the Fourth Industrial Revolution?

And so, little by little, a bomb was drawing closer to this market—silently, but with absolute certainty.