208 - 40%
“No way... It was definitely Bitcoin... It had to be Bitcoin!”
Baek Ho-chan barely touched his food. Watching him, A-rin whispered in my ear.
“But Nami, isn't 200 million won a ton of money?”
Baek Min-woo overheard and flicked her forehead.
“Baek A-rin! We just got scammed...!”
“Why hit someone who's eating nicely!”
Snap!
“Gyaack!”
I channeled aura into my finger and flicked Min-woo's temple. He rolled around on the heated floor, groaning in agony. Even amid the chaos, Professor Cheon was meticulously picking out the bones from the mackerel and placing tender fillets on my rice.
Slide—
The sliding door opened, and Principal Baek Bong-gon sat down at the table. His piercing, murderous glare finally softened as he spoke.
“After thinking it over real hard, I remembered—my Bitcoin's in another account. Totally forgot.”
“...!”
Baek Ho-chan, who hadn't hidden his gloom until now, perked up instantly.
“Ho-chan, grab my glasses.”
“Right away, Grandpa!”
“Whoa there. No need for the theatrics.”
He examined his phone carefully, then turned the screen toward us.
[My Assets]
[5.86182 BTC (Bitcoin): ₩147,508,011]
“Heh heh heh, add it all up and it's 340 million won! Ho-chan! That's more than the debt you're drowning in! Hahaha!”
Principal Baek Bong-gon explained that he'd accidentally bought Bitcoin Gold back then, so he made a new account and bought actual Bitcoin. But even then, prices were high, leaving him with just over five coins in his digital wallet.
“After that, I got interested in crypto and traded a bit. But it just pissed me off, so I quit quick.”
340 million won. It wouldn't save his company, but it could keep him out of personal bankruptcy. Despite it being a hefty sum by any measure, Principal Baek Bong-gon handed it over to his grandson without hesitation.
“Sorry, Ho-chan. At first, you kept saying 200 million this and that, so I thought it was 200 million won. Didn't realize you meant 200 million bucks till later.”
A misunderstanding arose from their different currency habits. Baek Ho-chan had spent more time in the States, while Principal Baek Bong-gon was Korean to the bone.
“No... I'm sorry, Grandpa. I must've been blinded by money all this time.”
The night deepened with their reflections, and morning came with the rooster's crow.
Wait... a rooster? Since when do we have chickens here?
“What's with the chicken soup first thing in the morning?”
Baek Ho-chan, looking utterly enlightened, ladled the soup vigorously.
“Talked it over with Grandpa yesterday. Figured, what's the point of him having 200 billion won if I can't even use it right now?”
Just giving away 300 million won made him rethink how amazing his grandfather was.
“Nami, I don't know what you said yesterday, but Grandpa seemed different after.”
“How so?”
“He accepted my dreams as they are. Sure, I'm starting from scratch again, but just having this chance feels like hope.”
And Baek Ho-chan didn't forget to apologize to the kids. Midway through his meal, he suddenly flattened himself on the floor and bowed deeply.
“Min-woo, A-rin. I'm truly sorry for putting you through hell. A man's word is his bond heavier than a thousand gold—I'll never go back on promising you each 10 billion won. I'll succeed and repay you, I swear.”
He pulled documents from his black bag and handed them to the kids.
“Kids, I'm a really flawed guy. Pushing past 30, and sometimes watching Grandpa makes me wonder if I'm truly the adult here.”
Min-woo's eyes went wide as he took the paper.
“Uncle, is this for real?”
At the top, in bold letters: Adoption Consent Form.
“It was a long 10 months, but short in a blink—my happiest times were with you two. This is from the heart. So... even a screw-up uncle like me... could I officially adopt you...?”
After a long silence, Min-woo handed the paper back. Mistaking it for rejection, Baek Ho-chan quietly accepted it. Then, with a smile, Min-woo said,
“So I gotta call you Dad now instead of Uncle? Feels kinda weird.”
“M-Min-woo!”
“Ow, quit it!”
Baek Ho-chan, with days-old stubble, rubbed his scruffy beard against him. Min-woo shoved back with all his might but couldn't overpower an adult man. Meanwhile, A-rin teared up, looking between me and Baek Ho-chan.
“If... if we get adopted, I can't see Nami anymore?”
“What're you talking about?”
“Uncle's going to America. If you go there, we'll be apart from Nami again...”
Baek Ho-chan waved it off.
“Why would I go to that cursed land? I'm staying in Seoul forever, A-rin.”
“For real?”
“Yep! And get this—Korea's startup support is insane these days. Professor, you know how much tax money the government's dumping into it?”
“Hmm? Around 400 billion won?”
“What? No!”
He spread all five fingers wide.
“Five trillion?”
“Five quadrillion!”
“No way!”
“Yeah! Every year!”
Compared to Baek Ho-chan hustling across America for investors, starting up in Korea was a breeze.
“But aren't you taking startups too lightly?”
“Sure, the upside's capped compared to the US, but the barriers are way lower. And I've still got the core tech in my head! Can't match before, but close enough.”
A-rin just wanted to live near my place. Baek Ho-chan agreed, and she happily signed with a pen. I watched the whole scene with mixed feelings.
“By the way, Mr. Baek Ho-chan, I never promised to give you 300 million won.”
“What...?”
His eyes trembled like thunder had struck. The funds from Principal Baek Bong-gon were already in my account. Don't go drinking kimchi soup before it's spilled. The bear does the tricks, but the owner pockets the cash? Not on my watch.
The romance of the countryside usually shatters once you actually live there. First, there's zilch to do unlike the city. Second, summers swarm with bugs and weather swings wild. Third, locals' cliquishness wears you down.
But with a servant, it's different. They provide fun, spray bugs, fan you everywhere. And best—no locals, since it's an uninhabited island.
As the breeze weakened, I fanned myself dramatically, and Baek Ho-chan resumed fanning vigorously.
“40%.”
“Come on, Nami. Startups aren't hole-in-the-wall shops I run solo—they're complex ecosystems with multiple investors involved.”
“40%.”
“You gotta dilute shares with angel investors via paid-in capital increases, allocate more when funds run low.”
“40%.”
“Plus, 40% gives veto power on special resolutions. If my stake drops below yours, other investors will think we're unstable.”
“40%.”
“Fine, you get 40%! Happy now?”
“Okay, thanks.”
“So you'll wire the money now?”
“Not till the shareholders' agreement specifies the ratios.”
“You little shark... Fine! Got it!”
Grumbling, he started packing to leave the island. I was getting sick of rural life too. Hell, I missed concrete jungles.
Baek Ho-chan adapted fast, though. No point clinging to money that was never yours. Business folk ignore sunk costs—focus on future cash flow.
I liked his entrepreneurial vibe.
“Mr. Baek Ho-chan. Ever thought about pharma too?”
“You know what that entails?”
“Yeah.”
“Pharma biotech startups are founders' graves. Even conglomerates fail after pouring billions. How's one guy gonna pull it off?”
He chased safety over profits—hence cell observation disease diagnostics, low-loss field.
“I see.”
“It's like a lottery. Someone wins big, but not always you.”
“Lottery, huh? What if you knew five out of seven numbers upfront? Worth a shot?”
“What do you mean?”
The molecular formula for multiple sclerosis treatment in my Akashic Record. If I could manifest next-gen interferon beta as real-world magic...
Before leaving Duri Island, as majority shareholder-to-be, I pitched the pro CEO. We boarded the same ship. Maybe Adella too.
Company setup multiplies tasks exponentially. I knew that. But...
“Aaaah! I said I'd play first! Min-woo oppa played tons yesterday!”
“You suggested rock-paper-scissors for turns, Baek A-rin. No whining now.”
“Nami! Come quick and scold Min-woo oppa!”
“Hey, that's cheating...!”
For summer break, the Baek siblings were crashing at my place. He'd sleep in his office, hyper-focused on company stuff—or so he said. What was that adoption speech if he's this irresponsible?
Still, the kids adored Uncle Ho-chan, so no nagging.
“Min-woo oppa, yield.”
“Ugh... Fine...”
“Yesss!”
“And Min-woo oppa, to my room. We're finishing middle school second-year math today. Homework done?”
“Nami, one chapter a day? This is child abuse.”
“...?”
Dead serious? I pointed between us.
[Me: elementary 2nd grade. You: middle 2nd grade.]
No child abuse established.
Min-woo once scoffed at my tutoring offer. Now? Zero complacency.
“Today's probability. If you keep resisting, what's the odds of a flick?”
“Uh... 800?”
“Answer's 1. Probabilities range 0 to 1. Forehead out.”
Now he flinched at my crooked finger. I infused aura at the tip, cornering him.
Click—
“Nami? All set?”
Professor Cheon opened the door.
“Huh? Leaving already?”
“It's 2:45. Time to head out.”
“Ah, yeah, changing quick. You're lucky.”
“Not even oppa anymore. Life's rough.”
July 10, 2051, Monday. My unwanted college life began.