Inheritance

A small commotion rippled through the trading room at Hansan Securities.

"That's him? The guy who got Manager Kim nailed?"

"That's right. A rookie with less than a year at the firm, and he didn't even blink."

"Kids these days have no respect, I swear."

"It's worse than that. Look at that icy face. Total sociopath. Honestly, he's just a lunatic."

The target of all this venom was the junior trader, Kang Siyoon. But Siyoon didn't so much as blink, his eyes glued to his work.

Not long ago, Siyoon had reported Manager Kim's embezzlement to the audit team. Now the backlash was in full swing. Every employee who passed by couldn't contain their fury.

"Unbelievable... that little punk. How did someone like that even get into our company?"

"Screw you, kid! Stepped on your seniors to feed yourself — enjoy the good life while it lasts!"

Sometimes the words turned downright vicious.

But Siyoon didn't waver in the slightest.

Then, as he stared at his monitor, one of the employees approached him.

"The team leader wants to see you."

"Yes, sir."

Siyoon rose from his desk and went to the team leader's office. Team Leader Oh, in his mid-forties, leaned back deep into his chair with his massive frame and looked up at Siyoon.

"Feeling pretty pleased with yourself now?"

"......"

"Someone you've shared a pot of rice with all this time gets hauled off to the audit team, and that makes you happy?"

When no answer came, Team Leader Oh exploded.

"Answer me, dammit!"

Siyoon, who had been staring at the floor, lifted his head.

And spoke in a flat, dry voice.

"Manager Kim was trading a personal account using inside information. The victims were innocent investors."

"And you? You've lived without a single thing to be ashamed of? That clean, are you? Can you swear it to heaven?"

"I have made mistakes. But I have never repeated them."

"Hah... Fine. You're something special. Go do your job."

Siyoon gave a curt bow and turned to leave.

Team Leader Oh's voice rang out behind him.

"You're the one who'll pay for this in the end. How many times have I told you? Blood is thicker than water!"

Siyoon resumed his interrupted steps and walked back to his desk.

He had expected it, of course.

The simple truth that in the end, the whistleblower was always the one who got burned.

So all that's left is getting fired.

It was near the end of the workday. While he watched the monitor with his expressionless face, his phone buzzed. An unsaved number. When he answered, an unfamiliar voice came through.

"Am I speaking with Kang Siyoon?"

"Yes... that's me."

"This is Attorney Jin Giljoong of Jin Gang Law Firm."

"A law firm?"

"I'm calling regarding an inheritance. There's a matter we need to discuss with you."

An inheritance?

Siyoon tilted his head.

At the attorney's words, a brief memory flickered through his mind. Before his parents had passed away, he'd once been told that his maternal grandfather lived in the United States.

"Your maternal grandfather... you knew you had one, correct?"

Siyoon scratched his jaw.

He'd had no contact with any relatives since childhood. Besides, he'd been told there was no money on either side of the family — nothing worth inheriting.

"The inheritance, then... what exactly—"

"Bitcoin."

"Excuse me?"

"Your grandfather ran a small supermarket in America thirteen years ago, and there was a customer who paid for goods in Bitcoin instead of dollars. That's how he became an enormously wealthy man."

Thirteen years ago?

Back then, Bitcoin had been worth maybe ten thousand won.

Could he really have held onto it all this time without selling? How much could there possibly be?

"If it's convenient, could you visit our office today?"

The call with the attorney wasn't long.

He agreed to meet him after work and hung up.

He had no idea how much coin his maternal grandfather had left behind, but even a single Bitcoin was a staggering sum these days — the market ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠price was north of 130 million won apiece.

Still, Siyoon's face remained utterly blank.

After work, he arrived at Gangnam Station.

Amid the towering high-rises, a large sign reading Jin Gang Law Firm caught his eye. He entered the building and rode the elevator to the twelfth floor, where most of the offices had already gone dark.

Only one office was lit.

Inside, a man sat waiting quietly.

Knock, knock, knock.

He knocked and opened the door, and Attorney Jin Giljoong rose to his feet.

"Welcome. Please, come in."

"Hello."

"Thank you for making the trip. Have a seat here."

The neatly dressed man in his fifties greeted Siyoon warmly. Documents relating to the inheritance were already laid out on the table, and the moment Siyoon sat down, the attorney got straight to business.

"The Bitcoin inherited by you, Kang Siyoon, totals one hundred coins."

He then studied Siyoon's face in silence.

Anyone else would have been over the moon, but Siyoon's expression was eerily vacant — even with over 13 billion won just dropped into his lap at today's prices.

"You're... not happy?"

"I am happy. Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Ah — no, not at all. Haha."

The attorney laughed, flustered.

In truth, Siyoon's blank expression wasn't a choice at all.

He didn't cry when he was sad, and no smile came when he was happy. The hospital had diagnosed him with Emotional Expression Disorder.

It had started in the winter before he entered high school. The aftereffects of a car accident had followed him ever since.

He felt emotion through the limbic system just like anyone else — but somewhere along the way, the signals failed to reach the frontal lobe. That was why people so often mistook him for a cold, heartless man.

And so he had lived his life until now.

Suspected of being a sociopath the entire way.

"I really am happy. One hundred Bitcoin..."

The attorney observed Siyoon's face with a puzzled look, then continued.

"Well, all right. I understand. Let me give you a brief explanation of the inheritance first. With Bitcoin trading at around 130 million won, your total comes to roughly 13 billion won. Fifty percent of that will be deducted in taxes... ah, of course, you work at a securities firm, so you know all this better than I do."

Siyoon nodded.

As a trader, he had to account for fees down to the decimal point — taxes were something he'd had to master. Though the title of securities firm employee wouldn't be his for much longer.

I'll be unemployed soon enough.

He'd made his peace with that when he reported the corruption to the audit team. A rookie of eight months had taken down a senior of eight years; getting shown the door was the natural next step.

That had never been his intention, though.

He'd simply wanted to stop it before things spiraled.

He'd acted out of genuine concern for Manager Kim and the team — but in the end, the incident was closing with him branded a traitor who had stabbed the organization in the back.

By luck or by fate, an inheritance of over 6 billion won had landed in his lap at exactly the right moment. Even unemployed, his livelihood was settled.

He'd never even met his maternal grandfather, so honestly, the whole thing left him feeling dazed.

"This is just personal curiosity, but if you do receive the inheritance — do you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have any plans for how you'll use it?"

Siyoon tilted his head at the question.

"Oh, it's just — the other relatives already completed their inheritance proceedings last year. And most of them haven't fared well. That's what happens when a fortune lands in your lap overnight. One of them made terrible investments and sank into debt. Another lost everything to gambling..."

People destroyed by money they couldn't handle. He knew the folly of the newly rich all too well. It left a bitter taste, knowing his own relatives had met such ends.

"You needn't worry about that."

He understood the value of money better than anyone.

He'd grown up steeped in poverty.

"Very well, then. Let's proceed with the inheritance formalities."

Guided by the attorney, he signed the prepared documents.

The process was simpler than he'd expected. Once he signed the acceptance of inheritance, the firm would handle everything else on his behalf, including the payment of inheritance taxes.

When the signing was done, the attorney asked,

"You may receive the inheritance directly in Bitcoin, or have it liquidated at market value and transferred as cash. Which would you prefer?"

"The Bitcoin, please. You can send it to my personal wallet."

Even if he sold eventually, it seemed best to handle that himself.

And with that, all the formalities were complete.

Siyoon left the office.

The inheritance would take roughly two weeks to process.

In two weeks, he would become a man worth over 6 billion won.

His work life, on the other hand, had hit rock bottom. Being treated like a ghost even when he showed up to the office had become the norm, and not a single soul spoke to him.

No more work assignments, either.

As a junior, Siyoon's duties had been supporting position monitoring for trades, data analysis, execution assistance — but now he simply sat still, staring at his monitor, then went home when quitting time rolled around.

Collecting a salary for doing nothing might sound like a dream gig, but in truth it was pure hell.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

So this is what they call workplace ostracism.

Experiencing it firsthand, it was agony.

Being outright fired would have been kinder.

Then, as quitting time passed, Team Leader Oh addressed the staff.

"All right, great work today, everyone. Volatility was heavy out there, but we pulled a team return of plus 2.1 percent. Once you've wrapped up, let's head out. Days like this call for a team dinner — if not now, when?"

The team leader led the way, and the employees filed out after him. Not one of them spared Siyoon a single glance.

Once they were all gone, the office sat empty.

Siyoon was just packing up to leave when someone else stepped back into the trading room.

"Siyoon."

Assistant Manager Min So-hee — her voice calm and gentle.

She looked at him with quiet sympathy, then struggled to find her words.

"About Manager Kim. I know it wasn't out of malice. If you'd left it alone, the whole team would have paid the price. What you did... it was something someone had to do."

Her words struck him like a wave of warmth.

With everyone else having turned their backs, Assistant Manager Min's comfort felt like a single ray of light. His delivery might be clumsy, but he wanted to convey, fully and honestly, what he was feeling right now.

"Thank you... truly."

"Oh... you're welcome."

An awkward silence hung between them.

Then the door swung open again, and an employee called out sharply,

"Assistant Manager Min. What are you doing? Come on, out. Stop wasting time."

"Yes, I'm coming!"

And with that, she hurried out, leaving Siyoon alone in the office once more.

A few days later.

For some reason, laughter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was blooming all over the trading room first thing in the morning.

"Ooh~ justice really does prevail!"

"Told you. The audit team was never going to take the word of a lunatic. Hahaha."

As he sat down and powered on his computer, the mocking voices kept coming.

"You've got to know your place. Some people need to be put in theirs."

"No kidding. Won't have to look at his face anymore — what a relief."

Won't have to look at his face anymore?

That could only mean one thing — had he been fired?

He hurriedly logged into the company intranet.

There was no need to search for the announcement — the personnel posting sat right at the top. He clicked it.

Click.

General Affairs... Inventory Management.

That was warehouse duty.

This was a demotion, plain and simple.