Jackpot!

He had won the lottery!

But... Jihoon's steps came to an abrupt halt right at the threshold of the convenience store, as if nailed to the ground.

"Come to think of it..."

A single hypothesis flashed through his mind like lightning.

Yevgenya.

That maddeningly vivid, erotic dream of a blonde Russian bride.

Dismissing it as some filthy wet dream cooked up by a starved, frustrated libido was impossible — every detail, from the texture of her skin and her breath to the sticky feel of her bodily fluids, had been more real than reality itself.

Maybe... this was actually an incredible lucky dream. I remember reading somewhere that even dirty dreams — the wet-dream kind — count as auspicious omens. Wait, did any... numbers come out of that dream?

Standing in the corner of the convenience store, Jihoon squeezed his eyes shut and dove into the abyss of his memory.

Not just tonight's lewd dream, but every previous one, all stitched together.

From among the ecstatic fragments of pleasure, he began dredging up numbers that had been seared into his mind with inexplicable clarity, one by one.

The first number.

The moment the front door opened and Yevgenya, dressed in a see-through wedding lingerie, looked up at him in a perfect dogeza pose.

The time shown on the red digital clock hanging on the wall beyond her bare shoulders. [11] o'clock.

The second number.

When she finished servicing him with her mouth and turned around, presenting her raised hips. The memory of him shoving his fingers into her drenched pussy as he fucked her.

Into that narrow entrance where hot, slick juices gurgled and overflowed, he'd relentlessly driven his fingers in, scraping against the stubbornly tight folds. How many fingers? His middle finger and ring finger — and even his index finger. [3].

The third number.

Before they went to bed, the meal she had lovingly prepared, wearing nothing but an apron over her goddess-like naked body.

The elegant pattern on the rice bowl she'd presented, pushed forward from between her ample cleavage — and at its very center, written like a bold brushstroke of calligraphy, a Chinese numeral. [18].

The fourth number.

Each time his thick cock mercilessly hammered against her tight cervix, the number of ecstatic, animal-like screams she let out, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Husband...! Just tonight alone... that's already the [4]th tiiiime...!"

The fifth number.

When she climbed on top of him and began rolling her hips in the riding position.

That moment when her enormous breasts swayed and sweat flew from them — the number engraved on the metal pendant of the choker around her neck. [27].

And finally, the sixth and last number.

When he poured his hot cum into her deepest depths like a waterfall, the obscene, blind whisper she left at Jihoon's ear as she trembled from the pleasure of being finished inside.

"For the next [45] years... fill my womb with your cock and cum every single night, husband..."

"3... 4... 11... 18... 27... 45..."

Jihoon murmured the numbers and snapped his eyes open. The six digits, all tangled up in the sprawling sex scenes of his dreams, fit together like a perfect puzzle.

A pleasant shiver ran down his entire body.

"Ah, screw it, whatever! If I'm short on living expenses, I'll just pull out a cash advance!!"

The last thread of reason in his mind snapped clean through.

Without hesitation, Jihoon walked to the lottery display at the back of the store.

He picked up a stiff paper manual play slip and pulled out one of the red computer markers stuck in its holder.

Let's see... 3, 4, 11, 18, 27, 45.

With trembling hands, he carefully filled in the six numbers in the Game A row.

Just as he was about to move his hand to the Game B row, a crazy idea sparked in his head.

Hold on. Why don't I go with the so-called 'five-of-a-kind' play this time? I've got the auto-picked ones at home anyway. If these dreams really are jackpot omens bestowed by some ancestor or the birth-spirit grandmother, then there's no point spreading my bets around.

Jihoon grinned like a madman and marked the exact same six numbers — not off by a single digit — into the B, C, D, and E rows as well.

The so-called 'five-of-a-kind'.

A strategy of betting on the same numbers across all five games.

What this method implied was obvious.

If these six numbers hit the first-place draw, Jihoon would collect the first-place prize a staggering five times over.

If the first-place jackpot was two billion won, this all-in strategy would seat him on a cushion of ten billion in one fell swoop.

Granted, the news occasionally ran ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠"legendary stories" of people who bought five manual tickets with identical numbers and won first place in five games simultaneously, but statistically speaking, it was an absurdly rare case.

"I'd like to pay for these, please."

Jihoon tossed a 5,000-won bill and the blackened play slip onto the counter.

The female part-timer, her eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still glued to her phone, fed the slip into the machine with soulless hands.

Ziiik— chik.

With a crisp mechanical sound, an authentic receipt-style lottery ticket printed out.

Jihoon snatched up the ticket and walked out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the convenience store.

The night air felt less stifling than before.

Or maybe it was simply that Jihoon's blood was burning hotter now.

He stopped and pulled out his smartphone.

He opened the app and tapped the QR code scan button in the upper right corner.

The moment he aimed the square frame on his screen at the barcode in the corner of the lottery ticket, a cheerful beep rang out from the machine.

The screen refreshed, and the details of the lottery ticket he'd just purchased materialized on his smartphone display.

Games A, B, C, D, and E — all five rows listed the exact same six numbers, and above them a red line of text blinked clearly: [Awaiting Draw].

Scrolling down a little, several auto-picked tickets he'd bought a few days earlier also showed their details lined up, all in "Awaiting Draw" status.

"Yep. In this smart day and age, who bothers squinting at their numbers one by one? What a pain. You just register everything in the app with the barcode, and when the notification pops up Saturday night, one glance at your phone tells you if you won or lost in one second."

Jihoon smiled with satisfaction and turned off his smartphone screen.

With the lottery ticket lovingly crammed into his pocket, his steps felt noticeably lighter.

Weeeung! Weeeung! Weeeung!

On the cheap vinyl flooring, his smartphone spat out a barrage of irritable vibrations, tearing through the pre-dawn stillness of the quiet semi-basement room.

"Ugh... my head..."

Jihoon opened his eyes with a groan, his brow deeply furrowed.

His head throbbed from the lingering alcohol of the canned beers he'd drunk the night before, but instinctively he reached out, groped along the floor, and roughly grabbed his phone.

The time on the screen read exactly 4:00 AM.

It was the weekend, so he didn't have to go to work — but there was one crucial reason he absolutely had to wake up at this hour, even if only for five minutes.

With practiced fingers, Jihoon silenced the alarm and immediately tapped the app icon on his phone's home screen: Red Archiving, a bishoujo collection-type mobile game.

Every day at 4 AM.

That was the sacred hour when all of the game's daily events and quests reset. As a free-to-play player who begrudged every single won, checking in at this ungodly hour without missing so much as an eyelash's worth of time was an indispensable routine for farming EXP and rewards without falling behind everyone else.

The loading screen passed, and on the main screen appeared a silver-haired bishoujo character dressed in a uniform so thin it was practically nudity.

Striking a provocative pose that put her cleavage on full display, she fluttered her silver hair and greeted Jihoon in a syrupy voice as a pop-up window appeared.

A lewd, wallet-draining pitch designed to bait him into a paid purchase.

Jihoon snorted.

"Yeah, nooope~ Sensei doesn't have money for ceiling paint, you shameless hussy."

He mercilessly killed the seductive silver-haired girl's pop-up with the 'X' button and, with mechanical efficiency, dutifully swept up only the attendance reward and daily EXP waiting in his mailbox.

Having accomplished his purpose, he closed the app without a shred of regret.

He was just about to lower the now-darkened phone back down to the floor.

Ah... come to think of it.

The memory of the lottery ticket he'd bought at the convenience store last night flashed through Jihoon's mind.

Those six numbers, marked down on inspiration drawn from Yevgenya's dripping pussy and her obscene cries of pleasure.

The very lottery ticket on which he'd staked that insane five-identical-games gamble.

"Well... it's not like it'll win anything, but might as well check."

He turned the smartphone screen back on.

"Ugh... it's blinding."

In the dark room, the screen's light felt like it was stabbing straight into his eyeballs.

The second or two it took for the loading spinner to turn felt unusually, agonizingly long today.

The screen changed, and the winning-results window opened.

Jihoon was mid-yawn as he peered at the display.

"Hu...?"

Instead of a yawn, a dim-witted sound leaked out of his mouth.

His eyelids snapped open like springs, his eyes bulging wide.

Jihoon bolted upright like a spring released, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Without even noticing his spine screaming from the sudden movement, he rubbed his eyes frantically with both hands and then shoved his face right up to the smartphone screen, nearly touching it with his nose.

Dead center of the display.

The five perfectly identical rows of numbers — A, B, C, D, E — that he'd registered by barcode at the convenience store the day before. And above those numbers, red text blazed in a row, searing his retinas as if to destroy them.

"Uuuuuuuuh...?"

Jihoon's lips quivered and trembled.

His breathing turned ragged and his heart began thrashing wildly, as if it were about to smash through his ribcage and burst out. Thud! Thud! Thud! The sound of his heartbeat thundered inside his eardrums.

"Is this a joke...? An app glitch...?"

With trembling fingers, he scrolled down the screen.

Directly beneath the first-place winner list, the results of his other pre-purchased auto tickets sat lined up in a row.

The words "Non-Winning Ticket," stamped plainly in cold gray letters.

And that, in fact, proved something chillingly, perfectly real — that the five red "First-Place Winner" messages floating above were absolutely not a glitch in the app.

"Am I dreaming...? Is this a vision...?"

Panting like a beast, Jihoon groped along the wall for the room's light switch.

Click!

The fluorescent light flickered on, illuminating the shabby reality of the mold-infested semi-basement room in full detail.

But Jihoon no longer saw the mold, or the tattered wallpaper.

Only the text on the smartphone screen clenched tight in one hand, glowing like the single truth of the universe.

In his head, the circuit calculating the first-place prize money multiplied by five went into overdrive.

The surging rapture, the years of accumulated bitterness, and the insane explosion of dopamine flooding through every vessel in his body.

All of those emotions condensed together and crawled up through Jihoon's throat.

"WAAAAAAAH-HAHAHAHAHAHA-!!!!!"

Jihoon threw both arms into the air and let out a shriek of pure joy that felt like it would tear his throat apart.

It was a beastly roar loud enough to shake the entire semi-basement room.

And that was the moment.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Something heavy began hammering the floor above with insane force.

"Hey, you crazy bastard!!! Did you get shot in the head or something, screaming at 4 AM?! Shut your damn mouth and quit yelling, you fucker!!!!"

It was the vicious stream of profanity from the Upstairs Alcoholic Husband, arriving right on schedule as always.

On any normal day, he would have buried himself under his blanket in fury and helplessness. But the Jihoon of right now was different.

"Mmph...!"

Jihoon hastily clamped both hands over his own mouth.

I can't let them find out. Absolutely can't... I can't let those pieces of trash find out about this priceless secret.

With his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mouth tightly sealed, he began rolling back and forth on the mattress.

Between the fingers pressed over his lips, uncontrollable bursts of laughter leaked out like madness.

"Pfheheh... ehehehek... PWAHAHAHAHAHA...!!"

The moment the laughter burst out, hot tears came flooding down from both of his eyes.

The humiliations and contempt he'd endured while scraping along the bottom of life for all those years, the days he'd been reduced to misery over a few measly bills — they flashed past like a lantern show before his eyes.

Tears and snot mingled together, soaking the back of his hand, but he couldn't stop laughing.

"Finally... my life is finally turning around..."

Jihoon looked up at the ceiling, his face a mess of tears.

Beyond the musty, mold-stained ceiling, the faces of his parents appeared in his mind, somewhere far away.

"Mom, Dad... you're watching from heaven, right...? Your son... I finally... made it... I'm not poor anymore... Ugh... ehehehek..."