The Money Tree from a Past Life
The money tree had been a connection from his past life. More precisely, he had been Yoo Jae-won's first English teacher. Their relationship hadn't formed through any regular academic channel like university or graduate school. Looking back, it had begun right after the deal with the entity, during the period when Jae-won was preparing for his regression while assessing various hopes and possibilities. At that time, Jae-won's abilities outside the computer field had been severely lacking. His first priority had been filling gaps in common knowledge and practical skills. Buying middle-school textbooks from bookstores hadn't been enough, so he'd even hired a Kumon instructor to work through practice problems. Having been away from textbooks for so long, he'd struggled even with high-school exam questions. Deciding he had no foundation at all, he'd started over from the first-year middle-school curriculum. Time had been on his side. Moreover, his resolve and sense of purpose had never wavered as the days passed. His efforts had yielded the best possible results. He'd completed the three-year middle-school program in a year and a half, and the three-year high-school curriculum had taken just over two years. If he'd relied solely on memorization, the vast Memory Palace that had appeared after Infinity Dream vanished could have finished the task in no time. Yet he'd worried that the Memory Palace might disappear after his regression, and he'd believed true mastery required complete understanding, so the process had taken longer.
After finishing middle and high school, he'd begun preparing for the college entrance exam. On his third attempt, he'd been accepted into Seoul National University, the nation's most prestigious school, with a full scholarship—an astonishing academic record. While rebuilding his shattered foundations, he'd studied foreign languages in parallel. His focus had been on practical English—speaking, listening, and writing—rather than exam-oriented English. Choosing English as his first foreign language had been the obvious decision. At the time, however, his finances hadn't been strong. Though he had some severance pay, he'd needed to conserve it for the future, so he'd searched diligently for alternatives. That was when he'd found a flyer on a telephone pole: "Learn English conversation for free." Thinking it sounded too good to be true, he'd called the number. They'd given him an address. When he'd gone, real Americans had been teaching English. What made it special was that they weren't ordinary Americans. Black suit trousers, white dress shirts, plastic name tags pinned to the left chest—anyone seeing that uniform would immediately think of Mormon missionaries. That had been the true identity of the people who'd posted the flyer claiming to teach English.
It was there that Yoo Jae-won had met Remington Sting. When he'd first visited, mustering his courage, he'd worried that the Mormon missionaries might use English lessons as a pretext to push their religion. Even in Korea, weren't there plenty of people who approached strangers saying things like "You look spiritually weak" or "Something bad might happen to your family" before asking if they knew "the Way"? Following such people often led to being pressured into ancestral rites and having millions of won extorted. Fortunately, this place hadn't applied that kind of intense pressure. Instead, they'd simply shown their upright, wholesome religious lifestyle and gently encouraged interest. Of course, Jae-won, far more interested in the "rice" than the "ritual," had paid zero attention to the religious aspect. He'd begun visiting solely for English study. The Remington grandfather he'd come to know hadn't seemed to fit the Mormon mold at all. The Seoul branch of the Mormon Church had been an extremely quiet, solemn place. The sole exception had been Grandfather Remington. He'd been as lively as a former rock star. In contrast, the young missionaries rotating in from America had all been quiet types who hadn't gotten along well with him. Thanks to that, Jae-won had quickly grown close to the older man. Since Jae-won showed no interest in religion, the missionaries had lost interest in him, and naturally Remington had become his dedicated tutor. Learning conversation one-on-one had rapidly improved his English. Once they'd become close, they'd met privately to chat about various things. Like most grandfathers, Remington had shared stories from his glory days. He'd told Jae-won about the time he'd opened a detective agency in California under the name Remington Sting. The tale of a once-successful California detective who became a Mormon and ended up in Seoul had been a saga of ups and downs. There had been stories of solving unsolved murder cases that even the police couldn't crack, earning him the title of master detective, and of his business collapsing in the late eighties when clients dried up. He'd somehow scraped by until the IT boom hit Silicon Valley nearby. He'd invested his remaining money and struck it rich, but unable to forget the taste of sudden wealth, he'd poured everything into Silicon Valley ventures—only to lose it all when the dot-com bubble burst, at which point he'd turned to religion. However, he'd remained tight-lipped to the very end about why he'd left the LAPD, his original profession.
In any case, what Jae-won had focused on was the detective period in the late eighties. Calculating the years, it overlapped with the date he'd chosen for his regression. Since he wanted to start his American business as quickly as possible, he'd begun seriously considering Remington as his U.S. partner. Their connection had continued afterward. Until the grandfather's health declined and he returned home, they'd met weekly for English lessons and sometimes traveled together. Even after Remington returned to America due to his worsening condition, contact hadn't been severed. When news of the grandfather's passing arrived, Jae-won had canceled an important business meeting to attend the funeral.
—Hmm. Let's hear how much the commission fee is.
The voice on the other end had made him want to laugh. Jae-won knew exactly how amusing and lighthearted Remington Sting could be. Yet hearing him speak in such a deliberately weighty tone felt incredibly awkward. Apparently, even when his pockets were at their emptiest, Remington had maintained his pride by acting dignified. This must have been what that looked like.
"It's three thousand dollars. I'll cover the costs for preparing the event separately. If the event concludes successfully, I'll pay an additional five hundred dollars as a success bonus."
The current exchange rate was seven hundred won per dollar. Three thousand dollars came to 2.1 million won, and the success bonus was 350,000 won. By twenty-first-century standards, it wasn't a large sum, but in 1988 it was a considerable amount of money. Still, for Jae-won, who couldn't yet go to America and handle things himself, it was sufficient compensation for employing a capable person to act in his stead.
—I see. Quite a substantial commission. But can you handle such a big job alone? I think someone higher up should be speaking with me.
"Someone higher up?"
—Yes. For example, your mother.
For a moment, Jae-won had been stunned. They'd been having a perfectly normal conversation—why the sudden insult?
—Kid, that was a pretty funny prank call. You're lucky you got someone as good-natured as me. Anyone else would've started swearing right away.
What? A prank call?
—Judging by your voice, you're about twelve to fourteen. Your accent sounds Asian, but you're quite fluent in English, so I'd guess second- or third-generation immigrant. And that sharp deduction about me being a detective—everything's correct except the immigrant part.
His youthful voice had caused another misunderstanding. After all, even speaking English, he couldn't hide the fact that he hadn't gone through puberty yet. The silver lining was that Remington hadn't angrily hung up. This seemed to be part of the kind personality the grandfather had shown in his previous life.
"This is absolutely not a prank call. The account for Remington Sting Detective Agency at Citibank starts with 555-33 followed by twelve digits, correct? I'll deposit the three-thousand-dollar commission fee today. The sender will be ID Technology. I'll call again around this time tomorrow, so please check the account before then."
—Huh? What are you—
Jae-won had hung up. Continuing a constructive conversation with someone who'd already decided it was a prank call was pointless. Rather than spending two thousand won per minute trying to convince Remington, he'd judged it better to simply end the call and send the money. A new sense of unease had also arisen. Reviewing the conversation, he'd gotten the feeling Remington might take the money and run.
"Well, I guess we'll have to go with Plan B."
It was an unpleasant thought, but unavoidable. It was better to think of the young Remington Sting as a different person from the grandfather he'd known. Even if young Remington Sting absconded with the deposited money, it wouldn't be a loss. When Grandfather Remington had passed away, he'd left Jae-won an inheritance far larger than three thousand dollars—something Jae-won had never expected. Beyond the amount itself, the money had arrived like rain during a severe drought, and his gratitude had been immeasurable.
After briefly sinking into thought, Jae-won had picked up the phone again and dialed. It wasn't an international call—this number started with a Seoul area code. Though it was early morning, the phone had connected before the third ring. As expected, the person on the other end said nothing. Knowing this, Jae-won spoke first.
"This is Yoo Jae-won. Please send three as we discussed earlier."
—Understood.
A young woman's voice had acknowledged his request, and the call ended. These people were currency exchangers operating in the parallel market. In March of that year, overseas remittance regulations had been relaxed to allow up to two thousand dollars per transaction with unlimited frequency. However, sending large sums abroad still required caution. Moreover, Jae-won was still a minor, making bank transactions even more difficult. That was why he'd chosen currency exchangers as an alternative. He would give won to the exchanger, who would then deposit dollars into the desired account in America. Using exchangers had been part of the plan Jae-won prepared in his previous life. Therefore, he'd identified not shady middlemen but the major players in the underground economy—those secretly used by chaebols. The person he'd been introduced to claimed to be third-generation. At a drinking party, he'd boasted that his family had been moving money in Myeongdong since the 1960s, a lineage with tradition. Since the 1980s, they'd been at the forefront of globalization, handling not only dollars but also yen, French francs, and British pounds. Their secret to long-term survival in the cutthroat underground economy, he'd said, was providing the most up-to-date services customers wanted faster than anyone else. The fact that they could send and receive money at any time, twenty-four hours a day, with just a phone call after depositing funds suggested that while the first claim might be questionable, the second was likely true. In 2020, when Jae-won had been introduced to them, they'd refused to deal with just anyone. His own transaction had nearly fallen through at first, only succeeding after a chaebol heir vouched for him.
"Grind."
Suddenly, Jae-won's teeth clenched. Just thinking about that damned guy's face made his jaw tighten involuntarily. At the time, he'd thought the chaebol heir was doing him a favor by introducing him to the currency exchanger. Later, it had become a weakness the heir used to hold him back repeatedly. Of course, that weakness had been wielded openly by the chaebol heir. In any case, while they'd refused to deal with just anyone back then, now they had an open-minded policy—as long as the money was solid. When establishing his regression plans, Jae-won had wondered whether he should use someone who'd betrayed him again. The result of that deliberation was clear: "Use him." Just as the chaebol heir had done, Jae-won could use this man to seize his weaknesses. Smuggling slush funds overseas carried severe penalties, making it perfect for leverage. Of course, the prerequisite was ensuring the exchanger would side with him—that his own presence would become greater than that of the chaebols. He had no doubt. Having regressed, he had no intention of being outdone in business by Korean chaebols who survived solely on their privileges.
"Enough idle thoughts."
Jae-won shook his head, clearing away the unproductive musings. Whether young Remington would prove as trustworthy as his grandfather had been would be confirmed tomorrow. For now, he needed to focus on today's tasks. First and foremost was going to school.
Before morning self-study began—a time when students were sitting at their desks in that awkward period—Soo-kyung, who'd arrived early and been waiting for the right moment, stepped forward to the front of the class and spoke loudly enough for the entire room to hear.
"Everyone! Listen up for a moment."
The classroom, previously buzzing with chatter, fell silent instantly.
"You all know Jae-won's starting a computer business and making big moves, right? It seems he's short on hands right now. He needs to fold three thousand paper boxes today or tomorrow. He's looking for people to help. We'll go into town after school to work."
Half the class dismissed the announcement with "Eh" and lost interest. But among the remaining students, many listened with curiosity.
"So if you're interested, come see Jae-won after school, got it? Oh, and he said he'll buy snacks for anyone who helps."
After finishing her announcement and returning to her seat, Soo-kyung winked at Jae-won. He'd asked her to trust him, but he hadn't expected this kind of help. He'd thought she'd select a few diligent classmates and introduce them privately. He hadn't anticipated her making such a public announcement.
"Should I help too?"
Jumin, sitting beside him, poked his side and asked.
"That would be great."
Jae-won didn't mention that Jumin had never really had a choice in the matter. He'd planned to simply drag him along after school anyway.
Other students also seemed to have developed some interest, their gazes turning toward Jae-won. However, the teacher would arrive soon, so they couldn't approach to ask questions. As Soo-kyung had said, the plan was to complete the packages for delivery to Sambo Computer by Wednesday at the latest. After debating between hiring daily-wage adults or classmates for the work, Jae-won had chosen the students. Tasks like folding boxes and attaching stickers to create the packages were repetitive but not difficult, so he'd selected the children. The reason wasn't just the simplicity of the work. The saying that elementary-school friends last a lifetime held true—the memories and personalities formed during this period stayed with people forever. As someone dreaming of building a massive corporation, Jae-won had decided to use this opportunity to find colleagues who would grow the company with him. If any students worked diligently and showed sincerity, he intended to support them with the full power of ID Technology so their potential could explode. While this could be seen as favoritism based on school connections, since the business was just beginning, this approach was necessary until the company grew large enough to establish proper talent verification and recruitment systems.
After school, Jae-won looked at the students who'd remained in the classroom. Four girls and three boys. Excluding Jumin and Soo-kyung, who were already fixed members, five students had volunteered to help without any ulterior motives. Jae-won led the children to the school gate and boldly hailed a taxi.
"Wow! We're taking a taxi?"
"Yeah! No point wasting time waiting for the bus."
Two taxis happened to arrive one after another, making it easier to transport the children into town. The roads were as empty as usual, so they reached the city center quickly. After greeting the owner of the advertising shop, Jae-won led the group into the warehouse. Thanks to the owner tidying up in his spare time, the warehouse was perfectly prepared for work. Now it all depended on whether his classmates would do their part well…… The children, who'd been as excited as if going on a field trip in the taxi, might not perform as hoped. Between Remington and this situation, Jae-won felt a growing sense of unease.