A Sea of Blue
The moment I got home, I shrugged off my coat and headed straight for the basement.
My brother still wasn't back.
Was work not going well for him?
I never used to notice when he wasn't around. Living under the same roof again, though—I couldn't help but keep tabs on him.
"Hmm. The air's gotten pretty decent, at least."
That was the first thing I checked as I went down the stairs.
The entrance lights flicked on automatically the second I stepped into the basement, brightening by degrees until the whole space came into view.
"Not bad."
Before the move, this place had reeked of damp and mold. Now it was almost comfortable.
Truth was, I'd been chipping away at it whenever I had a free moment.
I'd only meant to clean it up enough to use as storage. Then the ambition crept in, and now I wanted a proper workshop of my own.
For that, a livable environment came first.
It started simple—scrubbing mold off the walls, checking the vents. Once I got the hang of it and the feel for the space settled in, I went after the air circulation itself.
The work moved with startling speed.
Using CAD drawings and structural simulations I'd built myself, I mapped the airflow, then redesigned the ventilation paths with eco-friendly materials.
Dozens of architecture and interior design books, plus hours of video tutorials—all of it was paying off in full.
Humidity had dropped by more than half. Airborne dust had all but vanished.
And that wasn't all.
"Purification rate's way up, too."
The air quality monitor on the wall glowed a steady green.
My eyes drifted to the shelf in the corner—a heavy-duty dehumidifier and a stack of activated charcoal I'd picked up from an online secondhand market a few days back.
"Next up: the walls."
I laid a hand against the surface.
In my head, the structural repairs and wiring plan were already finished.
"Maybe just one wall today."
I got to work at once.
I picked a plain stretch of wall with no wiring planned for it, then layered on the waterproof sheeting and Styrofoam insulation I'd bought ahead of time. Both had adhesive backing—just peel and stick—so it went fast.
Then I turned to the lumber stacked neatly along one side of the basement.
Plywood cut to measure, stud lumber, moisture-treated insulation sheets—everything prepped in exactly the quantities I needed.
All of it had come from the mini workbench I'd set up in a corner of the yard.
I measured positions with machine precision and started fixing the timber to the wall.
The power drill spun smooth. My hands never hesitated.
Anyone watching without context might have thought I was casually waving around an airsoft gun.
Vrrrr—
One by one the boards lined up along the wall. Once the frame was complete, I layered on another insulation sheet and sealed it with plywood.
Every joint locked into place with no gaps, no waste—precision work.
I drove the last screws, stepped back, and looked at the finished wall.
The whole atmosphere of the space had shifted.
"Nice. Clean."
I finished for the day with a satisfied smile.
I wanted to keep going, but it was already past eight. No point annoying the neighbors.
Weekend started tomorrow anyway. No reason to rush.
I came up from the basement just as my brother walked through the front door—perfect timing.
"You were working again?"
He narrowed his eyes at me.
Work all day, renovations all evening. Ease up a little, his face said.
"Huh? Oh—just one wall, as a test. You eat?"
"Grabbed something. But do you actually know what you're doing down there?"
He gave me a suspicious look. I scratched my cheek, a little sheepish.
"More or less?"
"Can I take a look?"
"Be my guest."
I stepped aside with a touch of pride.
I didn't follow him down to explain. Something about it felt embarrassing—like an amateur playing dress-up at a craft.
A small sound of surprise floated up from below. I pulled out my phone for no real reason, checked the screen, and headed for the bathroom to wash up.
A text from the hospital was waiting.
A routine notice about my Monday checkup. I'd already coordinated with the attending physician, so there was nothing to worry about.
Periodic monitoring of my brain was necessary. Knowing the exact state of my body was the only way to eliminate the unknowns.
After I showered, I dug deeper into crypto—studying, researching.
The further I went, the murkier it got.
How to put it?
A maze with no exit.
Plenty of directions, plenty of branching paths—and no way to tell which one led out.
That was how the long day ended. I closed my eyes for a short stretch of sleep.
Then, in the small hours before dawn, I woke and sat up.
Out of habit, I unlocked my phone and opened the crypto app.
"What?"
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Every single coin was down more than seventy percent.
A sea of blue. Nothing but blue.
Pure terror on a screen.
Fortunately, I'd liquidated everything the day before.
"Phew."
The relief lasted about a second.
"Ah—!"
A face flashed through my mind.
I called him immediately.
Junseok didn't pick up.
"Damn it!"
I didn't even wash my face—just threw on clothes and bolted out the door.
I kept trying him the whole way to the main road. Still nothing.
Phone clenched in my fist, I ran hard.
I burst out of the alley, breathing ragged, and spotted the taxi stand. A line of cabs sat waiting—thank God.
"Samgyeong University main gate, as fast as you can! Someone's life is on the line!"
"What? Oh—yes, yes, got it!"
The driver startled, then nodded with a grim set to his jaw.
The taxi tore onto the road. I rewound my last conversation with Junseok in my head. We'd talked around eleven the night before.
I pulled up the chat.
That was the last message.
This idiot better not have switched from scalping to a swing trade or a full position. Did he get wrecked that hard? Is he about to do something extreme—? No. He's not that stupid. He's not.
My head was a mess, but somehow the pounding in my chest settled. Everything went cold and clear.
Iced over, almost.
I considered calling 911, then decided against it. He might just be asleep.
I ran through contingencies for every scenario as the taxi pulled up to the destination—the driver had threaded every speed trap on the way.
"Here's my card. If you get a ticket, call me."
I paid calmly, then sprinted straight for Junseok's one-room unit.
Up the stairs, down the corridor—I jammed the doorbell, pounded the door, hit the bell again.
"Junseok! Junseok! Hey! Ryu Junseok!"
No answer, no matter how loud I shouted.
I checked the door fast.
The building was old enough that it still had a metal handle instead of a digital lock.
It was badly worn. A little force and I could rip the whole thing clean off.
Not something a normal person could do. Somehow, it looked doable to me.
No more hesitation.
If nothing was wrong, I'd just replace the handle.
I grabbed it.
Then, in one sharp motion—snap of the wrist, shift of weight—I wrenched it backward with everything I had.
CRACK! THUD!
A heavy sound, and the handle tore free. The door swung open with a clatter.
The apartment was dark. Only the monitors glowed bright.
I charged in without taking off my shoes.
"Junseok!"
He was collapsed on the floor beside his chair.
In front of him, a white unlabeled round pill bottle lay on its side—scattered white tablets, spilled water.
No—
"Hey! Ryu Junseok!"
I dropped beside him and checked his pulse.
Slow—but there.
His forehead was clammy. His lips were dry and cracked.
"Ugh…"
His breathing was faint, but it was still going.
I opened his mouth and looked inside. Couldn't tell for sure.
No more time to waste.
No room for second-guessing.
Samgyeong University Hospital was right next door—five minutes at a full run.
I hauled him onto my back.
Light.
Far too light.
I calculated the shortest route from the unit to the ER and ran without stopping. The emergency entrance sat on the outermost edge of the hospital complex—easy to find.
The second I got inside, nurses took him, laid him out, and started assessing.
"What happened?"
"I don't know exactly. There were pills all over the floor. Possible overdose."
"Understood."
The nurse caught my meaning instantly.
"Could you step back for a moment? We'll take it from here."
A doctor arrived soon after, and I was guided to the waiting area.
"Temperature's low—blood sugar crashing!"
"Starting emergency IV now."
Urgent voices carried through the doors.
Time passed. The doctor who'd been treating Junseok finally came out to me. His expression was somewhere between baffled and exasperated.
"How is he?"
"A stomach pump doesn't look necessary. This is… malnutrition."
"Excuse me?"
I stared at him blankly.
That was nowhere near any scenario I'd been running.
The doctor continued in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.
"The patient's condition has nothing to do with a suicide attempt. His body is severely depleted of nutrients. And those pills you saw…"
He glanced down at the lab report in his hand.
"Vitamins. High-potency multivitamins, to be precise."
"Ah…"
I was so stunned I couldn't form a proper sentence.
"He'll need to stay for a while. IV therapy and nutritional support in tandem. Are you his guardian?"
I nodded quietly.
As far as I knew, the only family Junseok had left was a grandmother who'd passed away years ago.
You're dead the second you wake up.
Junseok came to in the afternoon.
While he was out, I'd gone back, fixed the door on his unit, and returned.
"Unbelievable. Absolute circus."
I stood over him with my arms crossed.
"I just… got dizzy all of a sudden…"
He offered a slightly awkward smile.
"When was the last time you ate?"
My voice came out cold. He flinched and rolled his eyes, searching for an answer.
"Eat? Uh… day before yesterday? Or the day before that?"
He couldn't even remember his last meal. I genuinely wondered what was rattling around inside that skull of his.
He'd never had much of an appetite—that was nothing new—but this was a different league.
"And why the vitamins?"
"Instead of food…"
This lunatic.
"…Are you even human? Why aren't you eating? No money? No time?"
"I just don't have an appetite…"
"Ha… You were this close to starving to death. What if I hadn't shown up?!"
"Sorry…"
I barked at him. He answered in a small, defeated voice—then lifted his head and asked,
"How'd you even know to come?"
"You didn't leave anything in the market, right?"
"Huh? No. I only scalp… And it started thrashing hard last night, so I pulled everything and just watched."
I let out a short breath. At least he hadn't gotten caught in the panic sell.
"Good. Look at this."
I opened the Upbit app and held up the trading screen.
A blue tide was rolling across every chart. Every coin was down more than eighty percent, and the sell volume was so massive the app was on the verge of seizing up.
"What the—what is this?"
"Surprising, right?"
"What the hell happened?"
Junseok's eyes went wide. He nearly shouted without meaning to.
While he'd been unconscious, I'd looked into the crash. I gave him the short version of what I'd found.