Do It Properly

That day, Seong-min moved with tireless diligence until ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every last scrap of remaining experience was filled.

Only after reaching Level 15 did he finally crawl into bed.

And when the weekend arrived — Saturday and Sunday both — Seong-min headed straight for the gym.

The place ran twenty-four hours, open on weekdays and holidays alike. Seong-min showed up on the weekend and the holiday and threw himself into training with everything he had. Raising his Physicality stat had boosted his cardiorespiratory endurance, letting him push through workouts with far more grit than before. Thanks to that, over Saturday and Sunday alone he managed to climb a full six levels.

Seong-min opened the Status Window and confirmed it — Physicality had hit thirty. At last he had reached the target he had set for himself.

Click.

He cracked open a canned drink and tipped it back, draining a long, cold swallow. The sharp fizz of carbonation hit the back of his throat with a clean, bracing sting.

"Finally hit thirty in Physicality."

This was Seong-min's rooftop room. The time was ten at night.

"Six levels total, counting today — Saturday and Sunday."

He had truly worked himself to the bone. Two full cycles of strength training and weight work, then the treadmill afterward, grinding hard enough to hit his daily goal of three levels. That was how he had managed six levels in just two days.

Raising Physicality really does make a difference. I wake up feeling light, like I actually got a proper night's sleep.

And that was only the start. Muscle endurance, lung capacity — everything had improved. Even jogging at speed ten on the treadmill no longer felt particularly hard. All of it thanks to the Physicality stat. His body's recovery rate had climbed right along with it.

It was an incredible ability, no two ways about it.

"Now that I've hit my goal of thirty Physicality, it's time to start pumping Martial Power."

Even ten points in a stat had been enough to feel the difference. When he first raised Physicality by a single point he had not been sure, but once he kept going and hit twenty, the boost to endurance was unmistakable — the treadmill simply felt less punishing. Martial Power would work the same way. At ten right now, pushing it to twenty would tell him for certain whether the stat truly increased raw strength.

"I've got an early start tomorrow. Better get to sleep."

He needed to leave by six in the morning. Arrive on-site by seven for the headcount and morning briefing, then get put to work.

Seong-min finished the rest of the can, completed his preparations for the morning commute, and looked at the bag holding his work gloves and the rest of his simple gear.

"Tomorrow I finally pick that bag up again."

He had not carried it once since the accident. Tomorrow would be different. For the first time since then, he would sling that bag over his shoulder and go out to earn money again.

How much is left in the account?

He pulled out his phone and checked. One hundred thirty-two thousand three hundred fifty won. Not even enough to cover the monthly rent.

Signing up for a month of gym membership at two hundred thirty thousand really did a number on me.

The reason a man who lived as carefully as Seong-min had an account this empty came down to one person — a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠high school classmate. A friend who claimed he was starting a business. Seong-min had believed him, co-signed a guarantee, and ended up shouldering fifty million won of debt.

That had been a full year ago. Every month, roughly three hundred thousand won went out just to service the debt. The nineteen million or so he had scraped together living in a goshiwon had all gone toward paying it down, leaving him with about twenty million still outstanding.

His friend had begged so desperately, laid out such a pitiful case, that Seong-min had agonized over it and finally agreed to co-sign. The clothing shopping mall the friend launched had collapsed, and the friend himself had simply vanished underwater. Seong-min had never stopped regretting that he could not bring himself to refuse that desperate plea.

But the bus had already left the station. He knew full well that regret was useless now. So he kept paying — three hundred thousand a month, interest included. Whenever he had a little extra, he deposited more than the minimum and put it toward the principal. In just one year he had cut the original fifty million down to roughly twenty. Keep living frugally and putting every spare won toward the debt the way he was now, and he figured he could clear the rest within four years.

And Seong-min had learned something. No matter how hard someone begged — never, ever co-sign a guarantee. A lesson carved into bone.

Work hard. Clear the debt. Repay Auntie for everything she's done. And then…

Something else crossed his mind. He clicked his tongue softly. If not for the guarantee, he could have gone to see her much sooner. The debt had turned all of that into foam on the water.

Just keep working. A new path will open for me too.

Seong-min spread out his bedding and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the phone alarm pulled him awake. Seong-min washed his face, brushed his teeth, and got ready without delay. He changed into outdoor clothes, gathered everything he needed, picked up his bag, wallet, and phone, stepped into his sneakers, and cinched the laces tight before walking out the front door of the rooftop room.

Starting today, the money-making begins again…!

He looked up at the pale, slowly brightening dawn sky, clenched a fist, steeled his resolve, and headed down the rooftop stairs.

He was just about to open the front gate when he heard the sound of a door opening behind him. Auntie Hye-suk stepped out into the entryway.

"Heading out already?"

"Yes. You should get a little more sleep."

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

"After you recovered and this is finally your first real day back? Not a chance."

"I'll work hard and come home."

Seong-min, cap pulled low, gave her a broad grin.

"Hold on a second."

Hye-suk came over and pressed three ten-thousand-won bills into his hand.

"What's this for?"

"Buy yourself something good to eat over there."

"They give out lunch boxes midday. I'll be fine."

He knew the routine well — bread, milk, or a boxed lunch at noon.

"Then use it for whatever you need."

"No, really. After everything you've already done for me, I—"

"It's fine. When you do better and make something of yourself, you can pay me back then."

"Auntie…"

"Have a good day. Watch yourself crossing the street."

"I will."

Leaving Hye-suk standing at the gate to see him off, Seong-min walked out into the alley.

Hye-suk knew his situation well. How he had co-signed a guarantee, taken on the debt, and poured most of what he earned into paying it off.

What a terrible person.

A high school classmate would have known Seong-min was an orphan. And still that friend had used him and run. A kid trying so hard, all on his own, just to stay afloat.

As a mother with a son of her own, Hye-suk found the boy genuinely heartbreaking.

She gave me a full thirty thousand.

Ten thousand alone would have bought a convenience-store lunch box. She had handed him three times that.

I really do get so much help from Auntie.

Would he ever meet another landlord this kind? Forget landlord — Auntie Hye-suk was simply a warm, deeply considerate person. Someone like that deserved real effort in return. That was just what a person owed.

Seong-min took the subway, then transferred to a bus. Two rides on public transit brought him to the Courier Distribution Center.

Good thing I called ahead.

They had told him to phone anytime, and when he did, the answer had been an easy yes — come on in.

He passed through the main gate, walked the familiar path to the waiting area, and found a fair number of people already gathered. The volume of packages sorted here was nothing to sneeze at.

People stood in twos and threes smoking, others bought coffee from the vending machine, some killed time on their phones — every type you could imagine. Ages varied too. Most were in their forties, fifties, sixties, but there were plenty who looked to be in their twenties and thirties. Courier logistics was brutal work, but the same-day cash pay drew anyone who needed money right now.

Thirteen thousand won is everything I've got. When there's no gombang work, nothing beats this.

He had tried convenience stores and all kinds of odd jobs, but the work Seong-min liked best was always gombang and loading and unloading courier trucks. Exhausting on the body, yes — but the same-day payout was rock solid.

Usually they started at seven-thirty, finished the morning shift at noon, took lunch until one, then worked the afternoon from one to five-thirty. After the closing briefing and collecting the day's wages, people headed home while the night crew assembled by seven and went on at seven-thirty. Other courier companies ran different schedules, but this was the cycle at the place Seong-min had worked.

He was standing off to one side, fiddling with his phone, when someone approached.

"Excuse me."

"Yeah?"

Seong-min turned. The guy looked twenty-two at most — bleach-blonde hair, a slightly rough, lightweight air about him.

"Think I could bum a smoke?"

"A cigarette?"

"Yeah. Turns out I didn't buy any. Figured I'd see if I could cadge even one…"

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in a little gesture. Seong-min spoke up.

"I don't smoke."

"Huh?"

"I said I don't smoke."

"For real? You're not messing with me?"

"No."

"Whoa. Face like that and you don't smoke…?"

"……"

"You really don't have any?"

"I don't."

"Got it."

The young man started to turn away, then looked back at Seong-min.

"Have you never smoked, from the beginning?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. You've never had a single cigarette?"

"No — I used to. Quit."

"I knew it…!"

"What?"

"You've got a smoker's face written all over you! I'm really good at reading that stuff — dead-on, every time. Pretty sick, right?"

"……"

"See? Total smoker's face. Insane… nailing that too."

Watching the guy walk off congratulating himself, Seong-min could only stare in disbelief.

Once the blonde disappeared, Seong-min pulled out his phone and studied his own face.

Is there even such a thing as a 'smoker's face'?

He flipped on the front camera. Same face he always saw.

I look like someone who smokes?

No matter how hard he looked, he could not see it.

Wait — saying I look like a smoker… does that mean I look like a chain-smoking loser?

His mood soured for a second, but he forced himself to let it go. He glanced around for the blonde and spotted him already nestled among a group of older men, smoking and chattering away like they were old friends.

I'm a nice guy. I'll let it slide.

No point getting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tangled up with some weird kid, Seong-min decided.

Then seven o'clock arrived, and the supervisor in charge finally called everyone to gather.

They trudged over to the platform area. Names were called and checked off. After a quick roll call, the supervisor paired them off two-to-a-team and assigned each pair to the truck lines. Work started at seven-thirty; the moment a truck rolled in, they were to unload the packages as fast as humanly possible. Until twenty-five past, people could hit the bathroom or handle personal business, then reassemble at that same spot at twenty-five.

Seong-min started walking toward the restroom when someone came up behind him.

"Hey there~!"

"Hm?"

He turned. It was the bleach-blonde who had tried to bum a cigarette off him.

"Your name's Lee Seong-min, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I knew it~! It's me!"

He jabbed a thumb at his own chest and grinned wide.

"I'm your partner."

"Partner?"

For a second Seong-min recalled the name the supervisor had called out.

"Han Min-hyeok…?"

"Yes! That's me!"

"……"

"Man~! You said you didn't have a cigarette to spare, and now look at this connection~! Let's make today a good one!"

He stuck out his hand.

"Shake on it?"

"Your hand's gonna fall off."

Seong-min looked at the shamelessly grinning kid, then reluctantly gave the hand a light shake.

"Looking forward to working with you, hyung~! You look older than me at a glance — you are hyung, right? How old are you? Twenty-seven? Thirty?"

"……"

"Thirty, right? Nailed it?"

"…I'm twenty-four this year."

"Twenty-four? Not thirty…?"

"……"

For a moment Seong-min felt a powerful urge to smack the kid upside the head, but he forced it down. He let go of the hand and started walking toward the restroom again.

Min-hyeok — the kid — scurried along beside him, still wearing that shameless smile.

"Sorry, hyung. I don't usually make mistakes like that, you know? You're not mad, right?"

"I'm going to the bathroom."

"Ah, the bathroom. Got it. Actually, like I said earlier, I can read faces a little. And hyung, you seriously look like a smoker. I nailed that one dead-on, right? Just got the age wrong, unfortunately… I wasn't doing it on purpose, so forgive me~ I really thought you might be thirty. Sorry, hyung."

Seong-min briefly wondered if the kid was deliberately trying to get under his skin, but he did not call him on it.

Then the guy darted out in front of him, pressed his hands together, and put on a contrite face.

"Forgive me. Okay?"

Seong-min looked at him and let out a sigh.

"Fine… just let me use the bathroom first."

"Ah, must be urgent. Yeah, go ahead~! And you're older than me, so talk casual~!"

Seong-min walked past him toward the restroom. The kid immediately glued himself to Seong-min's side.

"I'm heading to the bathroom too."

Nobody had asked.

"I'm just doing the small one. What about you, hyung? Big one? Going to take a dump?"

"Small one."

"Ah, so just a piss. More importantly, talk casual already, will you? You're two years older than me. If you've gotta go, you've gotta go. Bladders are sensitive, I heard. Holding it in is bad for you."

Seong-min stepped up to a urinal, unzipped, and relieved himself with a long, satisfying stream.

"I'm in trouble."

The kid peeing next to him suddenly went dead serious. He looked so grim that Seong-min glanced over.

"Hyung, I think I'm in real trouble."

His face was grave.

"Why? What happened?"

"I'm peeing and my stomach hurts."

"……"

"Looks like I'm gonna have to take a dump before I come out."

"……"

Min-hyeok disappeared into a stall. Seong-min stared at the closed door for a moment, said nothing, turned around, and quietly walked out of the restroom.