One Hundred Million Balloons

The next day, Kim Taeyoung threw in his notice the instant he arrived. Not that he actually put a resignation envelope in anyone's hand. The store where he worked was run by a clothing distributor, headquarters sat a long way from the department store, and the people who handled real business only came around three or four times a month. So the only way to give notice was by phone.

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The deputy from headquarters had gone urgent. Whatever he said when he arrived, he was not going to bend Kim Taeyoung's decision. Nearly a hundred trillion won was sitting in his hands. Why work?

"Hyung. You're really quitting?"

"Yeah. You're the manager now. I already told Deputy Kim, so unless something goes sideways, it'll be approved. Starting today I'll show you what a manager has to do. It's not much different from the work you've been doing, so you'll pick it up fast."

After the resignation, he told the store staff he was leaving.

"What are you even gonna do once you're out? Did you land somewhere good? Let me in on it too."

"I ought to rest. Rest until I've had my fill, and think about what comes after."

"Ah, I see.... All right. But it's gonna be so boring without you, hyung. You were the only reason any of it was fun."

"You'll do fine without me."

Starting with Jeonghun, who would be the next manager, he said his goodbyes one by one. Kim Taeyoung had worked this store longer than anyone, so every person there had been with him from the beginning until now, and they let a deep regret show. He could be strict when strictness was called for, but he was a genuinely good manager and a good senior. What set him apart from the managers of other stores was simple. He never pushed his own work off on someone else, and when a responsibility was his, he didn't dodge it.

"Manager. Are you really resigning?"

Jo Sua was no different. She came up to him without any effort to hide how sorry she was.

"Looks that way. I never thought I'd be the one quitting before you. Haha."

"Ah... yes..."

She took it harder than the other staff. Past regret, it almost looked like grief.

Why is she being like this? Don't tell me...? No. No way.

Kim Taeyoung let the suspicion go. Eleven years between them. Nearly a full turn of the zodiac. A girl just stepping into the wide bright stretch of college had no reason to like some older man.

"Taeyoung!"

A little later, Deputy Kim from headquarters came into the store. He had rushed so hard that his employee badge was still hanging around his neck.

"Deputy Kim. To what do we owe the royal visit?"

"Aish, this is not the time to joke around. Break room. Let's talk."

"Haha. Sure. Let's."

Kim Taeyoung followed him to the break room. Deputy Kim tried desperately to talk him out of resigning. Kim Taeyoung did not bend. Everything else went as planned. He handed the manager's seat to Jeonghun, and Jeonghun, who already knew the store down to its bones, learned every duty of the job in a single day.

"Everyone, good work. Thank you for all of it."

Kim Taeyoung said it in a good mood. He had thought he'd be coming in one more day, but Jeonghun learned too fast for that. From here on, he was free.

"Hyung! We're not doing a farewell party? Everyone looked like they were hoping for one. Sua too."

"A farewell party?"

Kim Taeyoung turned it over for a moment. Say what you would, these were coworkers who had endured the nightmare customers — the jin-sang — and the gabjil right beside him. A farewell wouldn't be a bad thing.

"How about Sunday, instead of today?"

Monday was the department store's regular day off. Hold the dinner on Sunday, and they could cut loose the next day without a worry in the world. It didn't matter to Kim Taeyoung, who was unemployed now, but the others didn't have that luxury.

"Sounds good. So we meet after work on Sunday?"

"Let's."

He set the farewell and went home. It was around eleven, hardly different from any other night. He was always soaked through with fatigue, but today he wasn't. The rich, idle life he had only ever pictured in a vague way had begun.

What should I do first?

Catch up on the games I've been putting off? Watch a movie?

Anything would have been fine. And yet his hands, out of habit, turned the computer on and launched the Corea TV shortcut.

"Habits really are a frightening thing."

This was what he did every day after work, so his body had simply gone ahead without him. Not a bad thing. There was something he wanted to do on Corea TV, too.

Gabjil. Not once in his life had Kim Taeyoung been the one on top. All he'd ever had was the vague wish to become that person. Now he could. On Corea TV, the one with the money was the one on top.

First, I'll take what I want.

Kim Taeyoung turned a broadcast on. There was still no camera, so the screen came up black.

Ten million Moon Balloons. One billion won in cash. Ten coins. Even on the clock at the store, Kim Taeyoung had been turning it over in every spare crack of the day: how to turn the coins into cash. He had settled on cashing out through Corea TV, but the sum was too large. Unless the National Tax Service or the prosecutors were fools, a trace on the flow of that money was certain to come.

There had even been an article lately. A BJ and an organized crew who had been cashing out Moon Balloons were rounded up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in a single sweep once investigators followed the money. Donate in coin too often, or in amounts too big, and an investigation arrived. That much was obvious.

Use an exchange, though, and the odds of his wallet address and public key leaking climbed far too high. Those could never be allowed to reach another person. The bitcoins he held were forgotten ones. Stolen goods, to put it plainly. Stolen goods that might still belong to someone.

Both roads carried risk. Use Corea TV, and face the prosecutors or the tax office. Use an exchange, and be traced through the coins themselves. For Kim Taeyoung, only the first was possible. The second left him no defense. The first, at least, he could prepare for.

And if he was going to do it, he would do it blazing. A casual hundred million Moon Balloons, to start. Ten billion won in cash. A hundred coins. He was going to be investigated anyway, so he swung outrageously big. One billion or ten — wasn't it all the same? Kim Taeyoung was a ten-billion-won rich man now. On Thursday, anyway, the day Corea TV paid the cashout. Ah, and the fee. Then he'd be a six-billion-won rich man.

Corea TV was full of BJs broadcasting today, the same as every day. From the majorfemale cams pulling four-digit viewer counts all the way down to the small fry at two digits or fewer. Which room he would enter was already decided.

Hwayeon. A ten-year BJ this year, a female cam whose streams ran on conversation. From her debut she had held a top spot for years, and she was the very person who first put the words the million club into people's mouths. Age, though, was not something you could argue with. Once she entered her thirties, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the popularity had fallen off hard.

Every month, new BJs appeared on Corea TV. More would appear next month. Among them were plenty of female cams whose concept overlapped hers — a pretty face, a good figure, the sexy camgirl. Getting pushed to the back as the years stacked up was simply how it went.

Even so, Kim Taeyoung went looking for Hwayeon's stream. To him she was the ideal from his dreams, a feast in a painting. Someone he was only ever allowed to watch from the far side of a screen. A woman he couldn't even reach in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chat.

In his twenties, when he had nothing, looking was all he did. It was different now. He had money.

"So I said we should get ramen, right? And Chaeyeon unnie says she doesn't even like ramen."

On the screen, Hwayeon was calmly running a talk stream. Sticker wallpaper crusted the broadcast, thick and overlapping, as if to prove she still wasn't dead. It was no longer papered wall to wall with ten-thousand-balloon stickers the way it once had been. The highest amount up there was 5,050. Someone had probably fired it off chasing a one-shot double stack. Beneath that, the screen was packed with signature balloons.

For starters, a light ten thousand. He had watched Hwayeon's stream plenty of times already, so it didn't register as a fan club join. Coin donations really did take a while, though. Once the money landed, he would have to load the coins back up.

"Did I fight with Chaeyeon unnie? We fight every single day. But we still stick together every single daaay...? Ten thousand? Kyaaaa! Who! Who sent ten thousand! Coin oppa! An oppa I haven't seen before. Are you a returning user? I'm so glad!"

A minute after he hit the donate button, the ten thousand rose onto the broadcast. Hwayeon screamed with joy, and then she poured an excessive amount of attention onto Kim Taeyoung. It was electric. All of her attention, gathered on him alone. The other viewers, envious of it.

"Really? Wait, but why are you calling me nim? How old are you, oppa? Don't tell me you're younger than I am?"

"Ah— aah..."

"What does my age even matter. If you've got money, you're oppa. Right? Oppa?"

"Kyaaa! Coin oppa sent another five thousand! Yeah! Drop the formal talk, oppa! From today on, I'm Coin oppa's little sister! If anybody's picking on Coin oppa, you tell me! I'll round every one of them up and smash them!"

He had donated big, back to back, and Hwayeon's energy climbed. Fun. A rush. So this was how whales had been living all along.

"Ah! Right, the reaction. Is there one you want? If oppa wants it, I can do anything."

Kim Taeyoung watched the screen, a satisfied smile on his face, and rubbed his hands together. Which reaction should he ask for? There were too many choices. But there was no need to agonize. He could simply order every last thing he wanted.