Semi-Basement Car Poor #38
“It’ll be okay in a semi-basement?” the real estate agent asked Han Dae-jin.
Han Dae-jin seemed set on it, thanks to the decent parking spot out front and the two-room layout.
“Let’s do it,” Han Dae-jin said.
The room he signed for had a 2 million won deposit and monthly rent in the 200,000 won range. But the two rooms made it great for dividing up space. He decided to put the bed and editing PC in the first room, sim-racing gear in the second, signed the contract right away, and started prepping to move.
Word that Han Dae-jin was moving spread to his friends.
Han Dae-jin ignored them and planned to slowly haul his stuff out before the old officetel lease ended.
A few days later.
After moving everything out, sorting the room, and settling the final accounts to get his deposit back, Han Dae-jin eyed the still-empty second room while organizing the rest of his stuff in the semi-basement.
He peeked under the fresh-looking linoleum flooring—black mold everywhere. Shouldn’t have looked, he thought, slamming it back down.
He lay on the bed in the first room—a cheap paper frame topped with a mattress—and texted his mom the new address before dozing off.
But soon, he jolted awake in a panic. It felt like something was pressing down on him. Chest tight, couldn’t breathe.
Mood soured instantly, he stepped outside. The view: first floor of a rundown multi-household building—or half-buried underground. Window bars, worn concrete floor.
He wandered the quiet alleys. The vibe was nothing like Osan’s station area. Felt like ethnic Koreans from China or other laborers huddled at the corner, scheming something.
He popped into the nearby convenience store, grabbed an energy drink, and headed back. Sat at the editing desk by the bed and worked on the next video.
But the humid heat wrapped around him like a wet blanket—gross. He cranked the AC. A foul smell wafted out at first, then cool air.
Even while editing, the sticky dampness frayed his focus. He finally finished, made a thumbnail, uploaded, and crashed on the bed again.
How long do I have to live like this?
He mulled over his life. Cheating with an affair, buying the Avante N, street racing, burning a million won a month on gas... Is this any way to live?
Then, someone pounded on the door.
Han Dae-jin opened it to find his mid-level exec friend from some small company—the one always nagging him to come work under him.
He let him in and gave a quick tour.
“Dude, why sim-racing gear at home? Cafes have it.”
“And fuck, building a new PC costs a fortune—why bother?”
“Who’s gonna sponsor your racing? That lawyer? She won’t even get you a job.”
The friend circled the place, unleashing a torrent of insults.
Han Dae-jin’s head throbbed. Finally sitting, he endured another rant.
Should’ve bought a Matiz instead of the Avante N. Or a boxy van. Doesn’t fit your YouTube vibe. What racing? You win autocross? Got real skills? Faster than Yoon Ha-rin? Kim Ji-hyun gonna hand you a seat?
Han Dae-jin wanted this “housewarming” pest gone ASAP. When the friend finally left, he gasped for air and slumped on the empty second room floor, lost in thought.
Soon, he scoured sim-racing markets and forums, hunting a set. An older high-end wheelbase, pedals, shifter, and a cheap 400,000 won profile rig online.
He told the sellers to ship everything, wired the cash. Got to fill this space fast, the urge drove him.
A few days later, as Han Dae-jin set up the sim gear in the second room, Kim Ji-hyun dropped by to check out his semi-basement dump.
She tsked at the profile assembly, then tested the bathroom water pressure. It drained okay, but looked sketchy to her.
She inspected the rest like some Seoul mayoral candidate touring a goshiwon, barely hiding her pity.
After helping assemble and running a quick mobile lesson/test, they scarfed delivery pizza for dinner.
“You crazy fuck. How broke are you to crawl into this shithole? Few days here and I’d die.”
“What can ya do.”
“Where do you even park? Saw you puzzle-parking earlier. No spot, so I left mine on the uphill slope. That incline’s insane.”
Han Dae-jin chuckled at Kim Ji-hyun’s gripe.
“How’s the commoner experience?”
“I’m no politician—avoid it if I can.”
Han Dae-jin burst out laughing.
They dumped the pizza box at the outdoor trash. Kim Ji-hyun lit a smoke by his car.
“This ride looks so out of place here.”
“Doesn’t fit the neighborhood?”
“That too, but... the energy...”
She trailed off. Han Dae-jin just stared at his car, silent.
“Didn’t expect you at my housewarming.”
“Told you. Still don’t know if you’re my little bro, student, friend, or man. That’s why.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, yeah—this too. Saw your autocross results. Our team deputy wants me to pass it on: ride with us at Inje endurance next time.”
Han Dae-jin’s ears perked up in shock.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re hitting 1:53 now.”
“That’s autocross—racing’s different lines, more variety.”
“You’ll manage, kid. Starting next week, wheel-to-wheel lessons on iRacing. Buy it. Multiplayer, so skip the classroom for those—I’ll time it.”
Han Dae-jin nodded, got it.
After seeing Kim Ji-hyun off, he opened the envelope she left on his desk.
₩1,000,000 Gift Voucher
[Move-in Congratulations Bonus / Housewarming Gift]
He got her intent, listed it on Carrot Market for 950,000 won. Quick buyer showed, cash in hand.
Han Dae-jin tried a bitter smile—couldn’t quite pull it off.
A few days later.
Han Dae-jin drove the Avante N to a manufacturing firm in Hwaseong for an interview. From his Suwon semi-basement, 40 minutes normally—but 90 in rush hour, obvious.
At the site, he greeted the interviewer and dove in.
“Hmm... two years at Motion Tech? Why leave?”
“Company downsized due to issues...”
“Why were you on the list?”
“Agreed to their terms.”
“That all?”
“Yes. Nothing else.”
“Could’ve fought it.”
He brushed it off vaguely. Interview over, he left the Hwaseong plant with a sour face.
Evening text came.
Rejected.
Han Dae-jin sighed, flopped on the bed.
Next video? No ideas? Public guest call?
He posted on his YouTube community: recruiting guests.
Google Forms filled quick. He shortlisted a guy with a sick ride and a girl who drove like shit.
Next day.
Han Dae-jin woke groggy, surveyed the place. Early ‘90s crumbling interior, not sleek. Awkward paper wardrobe, paper desk. Laptop. Sim rig across in the second room.
The legend of the semi-basement car poor had already begun.