The Weight of Hard-Earned Money
It was nearly noon by the time Park Jihun finally tossed and turned his way out of sleep. Perhaps because he had streamed so late into the night, his body felt as heavy as wet cement. His head throbbed with a dull ache. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for his phone. The lock screen was already buried under dozens of notifications: Ocean alerts, community posts, text messages, and missed calls.
Jihun opened his browser app first. In the search bar, he typed a familiar name: Novagen Therapeutics. The moment he hit search, a deluge of articles flooded the screen.
[BREAKING] Novagen Therapeutics Fails Phase 3 Clinical Trial
Novagen Plummets Amid Suspicions of Falsified Core Data...
Highly Anticipated Novagen Plummets as Manipulation Allegations Surface
Jihun scrolled down to the stock chart. The line, which had soared vertically after the market opened yesterday, had nose-dived during after-hours trading, crashing straight into the abyss.
"...Just as expected," Jihun muttered to himself. "...Man, if I had shorted it, I would've made a killing."
It was a fleeting thought he'd had last night right after turning off the stream and lying down. But the very instant the idea crossed his mind, something went wrong. His stomach had churned violently. His fingertips grew icy cold, and a sensation like a giant, invisible hand squeezing his heart had seized him.
It was an absolute warning: Do not do this. A filthy, ominous dread that screamed if he dared to force his hand, something terrible would happen.
Jihun pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can see everyone else's fortunes, but the moment I try to use it for my own pocket, this happens."
He let out a dry chuckle. To put it elegantly, it was a Geumgi—a shamanic taboo. It meant that while he could foresee the ruin of others, the spirits would never allow him to directly scoop up the fallen crumbs for himself.
"Well, no reason to force what's forbidden."
He opened the Ocean app instead. The moment he checked his pending settlement balance, his hand froze.
"...Huh?"
He pulled the phone closer to his face. After deducting the platform's commission from his total donations, his estimated payout was well over ten million won.
"Ten million won for just three days of streaming?"
His mouth went dry. He thought of all the time he'd wasted dragging himself to job interviews. Even when scraping by for a whole month, the money he actually held in his hands was always a pittance. Yet here he was, after a mere three days and a handful of broadcasts, looking at a payout exceeding ten million won.
Jihun tapped the refresh button. The numbers remained unchanged. Over ten million won.
Nathan's massive donations played a huge part, but still... this is insane.
Jihun stared at the screen for a long time. This was real money. No, this was how he had to make his living now.
"Once I get paid, the first thing I'm doing is taking Mom to the hospital."
A better house, proper medical care, living expenses—things he hadn't even dared to calculate just a few days ago now flooded his mind.
Without hesitation, Jihun dialed his mother's number. The ringback tone droned once, then twice.
"Why isn't she picking up?"
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he stared at his phone for a moment before heading to his closet. He was going to treat his mother to a proper, wonderful meal.
Jihun stood before his closet for a long time. Normally, he would have thrown on a faded hoodie and walked out, but today felt different. He pulled out a crisp, ironed shirt and layered a dark knit sweater over it. Once he threw on his coat and stood before the mirror, his reflection felt a bit foreign.
"...Is this too much?"
Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair to tidy it up. This would do.
It had been a while since he'd had a meal with his mother. And he didn't want just any ordinary meal—he wanted something upscale. Looking back at the figure on his phone, a high-end restaurant was nothing. He was confident he could earn even more from now on.
Beef? Or maybe sashimi? Come to think of it, what does Mom actually like?
Jihun scratched his head. He had resolved to buy her something amazing, yet he couldn't even recall her favorite food. Grabbing his wallet and phone, he hurried out of his apartment.
The journey from Seoul to Incheon was deeply familiar. He boarded the rattling subway, idling away the time on his phone until he arrived near his childhood home.
Jihun climbed the familiar stairs of the old villa and stood before the front door. He unlocked it and stepped inside, but the apartment was empty. The cold bit through his socks the moment he stepped onto the linoleum floor. The boiler must have been turned off; the floor felt like a sheet of ice.
"Where did she go?"
Just as he stepped back outside with a bewildered look, the door next door clicked open.
"Oh, Jihun! You're here?" It was the neighbor lady.
Jihun greeted her quickly. "Hello. Do you happen to know where my mom went?"
"Jeong-suk? She went to the restaurant."
"The restaurant?"
"Oh? You didn't know? Your mother's been working part-time as a server at a restaurant."
Jihun was struck speechless for a moment.
"She left in a hurry this morning. It must be incredibly busy over there right now."
"...Oh."
Dazed, Jihun gripped his phone a little tighter. Now he knew why she hadn't answered.
"Do you know what time she usually finishes?"
"Usually around two-thirty or three in the afternoon."
Jihun asked again, "Where is the restaurant she works at?"
"It's called Eunhui Restaurant. Just head down the alley over there."
Jihun bowed politely. "Thank you."
He immediately bolted down the stairs. He had to see for himself.
Eunhui Restaurant sat at the very end of the alley. True to the peak lunch hour, the interior was a chaotic bustle of activity.
Jihun stopped in front of the restaurant. Through the glass door, he spotted a painfully familiar back. His mother, wearing a faded apron, was weaving frantically between the tables. In one hand, she held a tray of water cups; in the other, she balanced a stack of empty plates. She bent her waist to wipe down a table, straightened back up, and hurried to set down side dishes for another customer in a relentless, exhausting loop. Jihun watched her in silence.
Just then, a gruff, booming voice erupted from a table in the far corner.
"Hey, lady! Another bottle of soju over here!"
They were two construction workers with neon safety vests slung carelessly over their chairs. Their faces were already flushed beet-red from drinking at midday, and they were shouting at the top of their lungs.
"Just a moment! I'll bring it right over!"
"Ugh, hurry it up, will you?"
"Yes, I'm so sorry. Right away, sir."
His mother bowed apologetically, quickly retrieving the bottle of soju and delivering it. No sooner had she done so than another table thrust an empty dish of stir-fried fish cakes toward her.
"Hey, when are we getting a refill on this?"
"Ah, yes, I'll bring some right out!"
Jihun bit his lip. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to burst inside and help her. But he held himself back. If he walked in now, his mother would only feel embarrassed and uncomfortable.
He stepped back, hiding himself in the shadow of a telephone pole next to the restaurant. He checked the time on his phone. If the neighbor was right, her shift was almost over.
As the lunch rush subsided, customers trickled out one by one, and the chaotic restaurant gradually quieted down. Only then did Jihun push the door open.
A small bell chimed.
"Welcome, val—Jihun?"
His mother's mechanical greeting froze halfway. Before joy could register, shock washed over her face, followed quickly by a wave of deep embarrassment.
"How... how did you find out about this place?"
Jihun spoke casually, as if it were nothing. "I called, but you didn't answer."
His mother wiped her hands on her apron. "I was too busy to check. But why did you come all this way when you must be busy yourself? Have you eaten yet?"
Jihun shook his head. "Your shift is almost over, right? Let's eat out today. My treat."
His mother immediately waved her hands in refusal. "What a waste of money! Let's just go home and—"
Jihun cut her off. "We're eating out once you're done. I told you, I'm paying."
She stared at her son's stubborn face for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh. "...You really are something."
Jihun didn't break eye contact. He had absolutely no intention of backing down today.
After leaving the restaurant, mother and son walked slowly down the alley. Perhaps because she had been on her feet all morning, her steps dragged heavily. Matching her slow pace, Jihun asked quietly, "Since when have you been working at that restaurant?"
"Oh, that? It's only been a few days."
"You should have told me."
"I didn't want to worry my son."
"Sigh." Jihun let out a quiet, frustrated sigh.
His mother spoke up again. "Seriously, why eat out? We can just whip up something quick at home."
Jihun shook his head firmly. "No. Today is my treat."
"It's such a waste of money..."
"It's not a waste at all." Jihun took a breath, trying his best to sound nonchalant. "I made some good money recently."
His mother paused. "What money?"
"Just... some money."
"You didn't go and sign up for one of those clinical drug trials again, did you?"
Jihun chuckled. "No, nothing like that. Anyway, I'm paying today, so tell me whatever you want to eat. Sashimi, beef—I'll buy you whatever you want."
She stared at her son for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. "Beef? Don't be ridiculous."
"Why not? I told you, pick whatever you want."
"Well, if you insist... let's go get some samgyeopsal."
Jihun stopped in his tracks. "Are you sure that's enough?"
His mother shrugged with a warm smile. "If my son is buying, even a simple gimbap would taste like a feast."
Jihun couldn't even bring himself to smile at those words. A sudden, tight lump formed in his throat.
"...We can eat something way more expensive than pork belly."
"Don't go throwing your money away. Pork belly is more than enough."
With that, his mother turned toward a meat restaurant across the street.
"That place over there is only 7,900 won a serving. Cheap, right? I was actually planning to buy you a meal there when you came home."
Unable to find his voice, Jihun silently followed behind her.
It was an early dinner. The moment the thick slabs of pork belly hit the grill, a loud, savory sizzle filled the space between their tables. Jihun held the tongs, silently flipping the meat.
"Why did you order so much?"
"Two people need at least four servings."
"Don't go throwing your money around just because you earned a little bit."
Instead of replying, Jihun flipped another piece of pork belly. The rich, mouthwatering aroma of golden-brown meat drifted up from the grill. Meanwhile, the television mounted on the restaurant wall was broadcasting the evening news.
His mother frowned, her face tightening with worry. "The world is getting so terrifying."
Jihun's hand paused for a fraction of a second. "Yeah."
"Make sure you don't wander around late at night either. There are so many crazy things happening these days."
Jihun flipped another piece of meat and replied, "I know, Mom."
Clicking her tongue, his mother continued, "I don't know why the world has become so grim. Whenever you walk home, make sure to always look behind you."
Jihun fell into deep thought.
The dim hallways of their old villa. The narrow alleys with sparse, flickering streetlights. The pitch-black path leading to their home at night flashed through his mind. It wasn't a particularly safe neighborhood to begin with. And his mother was living there all by herself.
Jihun tightened his grip on the tongs.
"Mom."
"Yeah?"
"The meat is fully cooked. Eat up."
His mother smiled, shaking her head as she picked up her chopsticks. Jihun watched her quietly.
He had no intention of leaving his mother alone in a neighborhood like this. The moment his streaming earnings were settled, the absolute first thing he would do was move her to a new home.
Then, a sudden thought struck him. He could see the fates of complete strangers with absolute clarity, but what about his own mother's future?
I should perform a Shamanic Reading for Mom sometime soon.
Perhaps, out of everything, that was the most urgent task of all.