Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Life Turnaround (1)
Seven years of heartache from unrequited love.
Three months of a relationship that barely counted as a relationship.
Three months of marriage.
A total of seven years and six months.
I wasted a quarter of my life because of one useless person.
No, maybe I wasted my entire life.
I poured all the income I earned from working the past five years into Yang Mi-jung, that useless woman.
Three hundred million won for the jeonse loan, one hundred million won on a lavish wedding using my overdraft, thirty thousand won on credit card bills during the three months of marriage.
“Phew—what was I thinking? I was crazy.”
Yang Mi-jung.
This debt—I’ll have to pay it back someday, no, tenfold.
During the twelve-hour flight to Las Vegas, I reviewed every action she had taken toward me and reflected on my foolish past.
It was painfully bitter but valuable time.
From now on, no woman’s beauty will ever shake me.
Divorce… perhaps it’s a chance given by God.
It’s not too late, He’s saying, reset your life.
And on top of that, she’s a chaebol.
Right now, my will to succeed is stronger than ever.
I listed every method I could think of to get revenge on a chaebol.
Surprisingly, there were plenty of ways.
Expose her past so everyone points fingers at her.
Interfere with everything she does.
Sue her and damage her image.
But whatever I do, it’s not lethal.
To take on a chaebol, you need wealth as massive as a chaebol’s.
No matter that I’m from Korea University and part of the Future Strategy Office, where only Iljin Group’s top brains gather.
With what I currently have, taking on a chaebol is like throwing an egg at a rock.
Sure, maybe someday I could break that rock. But I don’t want to be tied to revenge until I die.
Becoming a politician could shorten the time, but even that isn’t an easy path.
So ultimately, it comes down to money!
I need money.
Korea is a magical world that runs on money as mana.
The more money you have, the more powerful the magic you can wield.
In that sense, this trip to Las Vegas is like an adventure to expand my mana reserves and fill them with money.
“Time to show the power of A+ in statistics, psychology, and international business.”
I steeled myself and set foot at Las Vegas Airport.
The first thing I did upon arrival was buy a lottery ticket at a convenience store with a “Lotto Ball” sign, using the numbers shown on TV.
Since it was Sunday, I’d have to wait a week to check the results, but buying it in advance felt comforting. After all, this was the reason I flew all the way to Las Vegas.
The cashier asked as I handed over the ticket,
“Just one line? Or do you want the others automated?”
The Lotto Ball prize is shared among all winners of the same rank.
If there’s only one first prize, it matters.
“One line is fine.”
I wasn’t trying to increase casino game money.
The probability of hitting first prize in Lotto Ball is about 1 in 292,200,000.
Statistically, I was just making a minimal bet on a low-probability lottery.
“Besides, there’s no way the numbers from a TV ad would win.”
I only had ten days to clean out Las Vegas, so I was anxious.
Excited, I headed to the largest casino in Las Vegas.
Exciting music played as the slot machines spun on the screen.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Damn~ another loss.”
The number on my betting balance: 0.
I should have gotten up, but my butt wouldn’t budge.
That last $1 was my final game money.
A futile dream. Was it saying I shouldn’t even think about revenge?
The past week, Lady Luck had avoided only me.
Now I had $10 left. Enough for a sandwich and water at the convenience store, and a bus back to the airport.
Feeling hungry, I stepped outside the casino.
The cloudy sky, threatening rain, felt like my bleak future, leaving only a hollow laugh.
“Huh. Hahaha. Hahaha.”
I mocked myself toward the sky.
“Some people are just destined to fail till the end.”
One consolation—maybe I had finally stopped thinking about Yang Mi-jung while immersed in the game.
“Out of cash, time to go back.”
I filled my stomach with a sandwich, grabbed my bag, and headed to the hotel, promising myself to work hard and return someday.
Feeling like a defeated soldier, trudging along, the hotel wall’s TV showed news about the lottery winner.
“Oh… right, that was it.”
I had completely forgotten.
The Lotto Ball ticket I bought at the convenience store upon arrival in Las Vegas. Today’s the winning day.
The TV announcer said:
2.58 billion dollars.
Exactly the amount I saw on TV.
Wait… that’s weird. Aren’t the winnings only revealed after the draw?
The announcer seemed to point right at me.
“Hehe. Only one winner?”
No need to check the ticket. It’s obviously not me.
If I were lucky, I’d have at least hit a $10,000 jackpot once.
Trudging toward the elevator again.
A life left only with debt.
Worrying about the future, I walked absentmindedly, colliding with a yellow-haired man who looked shady.
Worried he might start trouble, I blinked, but he admitted his mistake first.
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Have a lucky day.”
He smiled warmly and waved, then walked away.
Feeling relieved, I remembered the news and patted my chest.
“Gasp!”
Nothing. My wallet.
I spun around to find the man, but he was gone.
“Ah… that was all my money…”
Two dollars for the airport bus. My lucky $2 I’d brought from Korea.
“This is insane. Nothing goes my way.”
Even leaving Las Vegas wouldn’t go as planned.
Determined to leave immediately, I took my phone from my waist bag to call my younger sibling.
I knew they’d scold me for losing $2, but what could I do?
I couldn’t beg strangers for cash.
Before dialing, I saw a news alert and froze.
[World’s largest lottery prize ever, single winner. Lotto Ball numbers: 11, 22, 33...]
“11, 22, 33? Could it be…?”
I clicked the message and froze in place.
The world’s largest lottery winner.
It was me.
Now.
An unimaginable sum sits in my bank account.
$1.2 billion.
1.68 trillion won.
“Hmm…”
Too much money to even bother counting.
“Transfer just 20 billion won to my Korean account. After taxes, of course.”
“Understood.”
“If the balance drops below 10 billion, can we automatically top it up to 20 billion?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Do that.”
As soon as I confirmed winning, I borrowed $2 from a nearby Korean tourist and headed to the airport.
Refunding my flight to Korea, I flew to New York and found the city’s most famous law firm.
I was afraid of gangs if I went to collect the money in Las Vegas.
Losing my wallet turned out to be a blessing—it forced me to be cautious.
I had wisely stored the winning ticket in my phone case.
If someone had stolen it, I’d regret it forever.
That morning, with a lawyer, I retrieved the money.
With a bodyguard in tow, I went to the bank—never felt so secure.
Even the lawyer’s fee was trivial compared to my fortune.
“Lipton & Ellis Law” has 30 offices worldwide and a Korean-speaking staff.
My lawyer, Alex Kim, a Korean-American, was capable and perceptive.
His fluent Korean was a relief—I didn’t want to stress about speaking English perfectly.
While waiting for the transfer, I admired New York through the glass.
Lipton & Ellis is in the Empire State Building, New York’s most famous building.
Completed in 1931, 102 stories tall, once the world’s tallest building.
The whole city spreads below.
Looking at the view, I wondered,
“Could I buy this building for a trillion won?”
Alex asked,
“The view is amazing, isn’t it?”
“Yes. By the way, what’s this building worth?”
“Originally about $436 million, but the pandemic probably lowered the value.”
“Really?”
It is expensive for a landmark, but compared to Iljin Tower in Seoul, worth over a trillion won, this seems cheap.
Anyway, with my money, I could buy about three Empire State Buildings.
“Buying landmarks… feels like playing Monopoly.”
When I was a kid, my dad bought me the board game, Monopoly.
I used to play it endlessly with my younger sibling, dreaming of flying around the world, buying buildings, and collecting tolls.
Perhaps influenced by that, my sibling became a flight attendant.
Now with money in hand, maybe I’ll become a building owner with properties in major cities worldwide.
Imagining flying on a private jet, landing atop my buildings with a personal helicopter, I smiled with satisfaction.
Suddenly, I laughed.
Just a week ago, I was pondering drinking and dying with every bottle in the fridge and cabinets laid out.
And now I’m considering buying landmarks and earning rent.
This must be a true life turnaround.
1.68 trillion won.
Even my family couldn’t spend it all in a lifetime.
But one thing I mustn’t forget.
Yang Mi-jung, that useless woman.
I cannot just watch her, having sucked all the sweetness from my life and escaped, now flaunting her wings as a chaebol.
Besides, Yang Mi-jung is cunning and sly.
When I succeed, she will try every dirty trick to shake me.
She can’t stand seeing someone she considers inferior doing well.
I heard the average wealth of Korean chaebol families is around 5.4 billion won.
But that’s just an average. The top ranks have exponentially more.
I don’t know if Yang Mi-jung’s family runs the top company or the 100th.
Judging by her “you won’t see me again” comment, likely a top-10 company.
Even if I hit the jackpot, I’m only now on par with Yang Mi-jung, barely a chaebol myself.
To take her down, I need power exceeding her chaebol family.
That’s why I’ve revived the dream I sealed away due to harsh reality.
The dream of becoming a global investor with influence surpassing Korean chaebols.
Perhaps it’s because the hope of love had hidden this faded dream.
My heart now beats wildly with the passion for success.