I Decided to Regress - 2

After deciding to regress, I locked myself indoors and tore through every story related to regression I could find.

Those protagonists had protagonist buffs, so they muddled their way into successful lives—but if it had been reality, plenty of those situations left me wondering whether any of it would even have been possible.

And most of them worked in specialized fields.

Doctors, stockbrokers, bankers, judges, prosecutors, detectives, producers, writers, composers, idols, chefs, athletes, hunters, knights, mages—or chaebols, or people tied to chaebol families.

So they clawed their way up through their own expertise.

But me?

I was someone who didn't even qualify as ordinary, let alone fit any of those categories.

Which meant thorough preparation was non-negotiable.

First: lottery numbers.

"3, 10, 24, 33, 38, 45, bonus 36. That's this week's draw. Last week was 7, 10, 22, 25, 34, 40, bonus 27."

I lined up every winning combination from the year I was born to the present, draw by draw, and started memorizing them.

There were just too many.

Numbers tangled into a mess until I couldn't even spit out a single clean jackpot set.

"Right. Anyone under nineteen can't buy lottery tickets anyway. Even if you win, you can't claim the prize."

I was thirty-six. I kept only the winning numbers from age twenty through thirty-six and erased everything else.

Still a lot.

And did I really need to memorize this many?

Hit one or two jackpots and I could grow the money through stocks, crypto, whatever else.

Yeah. Just one set I could buy the second I turned twenty.

Wait—what if there was a way to claim lottery winnings even younger?

Making money takes time.

That law applies equally to everyone.

So if I started rolling capital from a young age, I could make far more.

Then think it through.

I didn't know what age I'd regress to—but a method for claiming lottery money while still a kid.

"A trustworthy adult. Tell them the numbers, split the prize—that could work. So who from my childhood could I actually trust?"

The filthy orphanage director?

No. The second we won, he'd kill me and take every last won.

School teachers, then?

Damn it. There wasn't a single teacher worth trusting.

They'd looked the other way while I was bullied, and when I went to the police, they'd dismissed it as kids' pranks and shielded the bullies instead.

What about my elementary school teacher?

Should I go find them?

"Hello, Teacher."

"Who...?"

"It's me. Cha Sunwoo."

"Cha Sunwoo... Cha Sunwoo... I'm sorry, I don't really remember... Do you know when I was your homeroom teacher?"

The elementary school teacher I'd finally tracked down didn't remember me.

But that had nothing to do with splitting a lottery ticket.

"Ah! Right, I remember! Look how big you've gotten, Sunwoo~"

"Yes. I'm already thirty-seven."

"Oh my... You were such a baby back then... I was your third-grade teacher, right??"

"Yes. You really do remember."

"Of course~ You were the kid who ate the most at our school. You put away way more than even the teachers, so you stuck in my memory."

Her face, lined with wrinkles, seemed to sink into old memories.

"So what brings you here?"

"Well... I won the lottery."

"The... lottery..?"

"Yes. This draw's jackpot was 2.5 billion won."

"Ah.... That much... B-but why come to me..?"

"Due to circumstances, I can't claim the prize myself. So I was hoping you'd claim it for me."

"M-me??"

"Yes. In return, I'll give you about five hundred million as a fee."

"......"

I handed over the lottery ticket stamped with the first-prize numbers. She took it with trembling hands.

"Y-you're really giving me five hundred million..?"

"Of course."

Sorry for lying like this.

But if she kept her promise now, I planned to go back to the past and actually split a real jackpot with her.

But then...

When I called the school the next day, they said she'd taken sick leave.

Then why was she walking in there without a word to me?

She glanced around as she stepped into the bank's main branch.

First-prize winnings could only be claimed at the main branch, so I'd been watching from a café across the street since dawn, just in case.

A little later, the police arrived.

"Counterfeit?! No! This isn't my ticket!!"

"Why don't we all go somewhere and talk this through."

"I'm telling you it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠isn't..."

I'd gone out of my way to cross the street.

And the moment the teacher being led away by the police spotted me, she shouted.

"Th-there he is! He gave me this and said we'd split the prize!!"

"Is that true?"

"No."

"What the hell are you saying?! You gave it to me!!"

"Do you know this person?"

"Yes. She was my third-grade teacher."

"Have you seen her recently?"

"I suddenly thought of her yesterday and went to say hello."

"Do you know anything about this lottery ticket?"

"Lottery ticket? I've never bought a lottery ticket in my life."

"You bastard!! What are you talking about!! You gave it to me!!!"

I'd deliberately handed over the ticket at a café near the school with no CCTV.

At a seat out of sight of both customers and the owner.

So there was no evidence anywhere that I'd given her that ticket.

My fingerprints might still be on it, sure, but...

"I really have no idea. Here."

"Understood. We may need you as a reference witness, so could we get your phone number?"

"Of course."

The police said they'd look into it carefully, smeared fingerprints all over the ticket they'd taken, then handed it back.

I gave them my number and left.

"See? There's no one in this world you can trust."

Anyone could tell it was a crude fake ticket.

It probably wouldn't become a real problem.

And if it did... that was on the teacher for getting greedy.

If she'd told me she was going to claim the prize, I would have stopped her.

Besides, I was going to regress anyway.

Everything I'd done here would never have happened.

So hang in there a little longer. I'll regress soon and make it like it never was.

"Alright. For the lottery, just two sets—one for age ten, one for age twenty. I can always find someone trustworthy after I go back. Next... stocks, right?"

Crypto didn't need separate study.

Memorize the years, buy roughly, and it would rocket on its own.

Stocks were different.

I had to know the dates and prices down to the last detail.

"But stocks have age restrictions too... Wait. With a legal guardian, you can open an account. So stocks are doable."

Unlike finding someone to split lottery winnings with, securing a legal guardian was fairly easy.

Just walk into any lawyer's office.

I'd have to pay a proper fee, of course—but even as a kid, I could earn that much.

"I could definitely earn it. Maybe not by the cleanest methods, but..."

There was one problem, though.

Some regression stories didn't feature crypto at all.

Works centered on crypto let the protagonist rake in easy money with it; others cut it entirely because it wrecked the balance of the story.

There was no law saying the same couldn't happen to me, so I needed more options.

"I have to plan for every possibility. Crypto, stocks, lottery—any of them could be different in the past I end up in. So how else can I make money? Film investment? Composing?? Hmm... I should study those too. And memorize some CSAT answers while I'm at it."

There was a lot to do.

I'd gotten busier after getting fired.

Maybe that was why I still felt alive.

But did making a mountain of money have to be the whole reason for my life?

I'd taken it as a given that regression was about money.

What I'd really wanted, though, was an ordinary life like everyone else's.

Not growing up under that filthy orphanage director. An ordinary school life. Taking the CSAT like anyone else. Going to college like anyone else. Landing a job, sticking with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a company for years, getting married, having kids—an ordinary life.

"Yeah. Just live ordinary. Filthy rich, but ordinary."

Because you still needed money to be happy.

A full ten months.

Every preparation was complete.

And with it, my bank account was nearly finished too.

I had to regress.

No matter what.

"Alright. First regression cliché. Help an old man pulling a handcart, drink the beverage he gives you in return, and regress. Excuse me!! Sir!! Let me help you!!!"

"No, I said I'm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fine!"

"I'm not fine with that!"

"I said I'm fine, so drop it! I'm still going strong!"

"Come on, sir. What if you throw out your back? Let me help."

"Stubborn, aren't you... Fine. Do what you want."

I pushed the handcart piled high with scrap paper from behind and climbed the hill.

It hadn't looked like much. It was brutal.

"Tch! A young man sits there wiped out after that little bit of work?"

"Hah...! Hah...! Sir, are you one of those grandpas hiding super strength or something?? This isn't hard for you??"

"I've been doing this ten years. Hard? What's hard about it? That's why I said I'd handle it alone."

"Hah... hah..."

"Quit gasping and drink this. It's from my own stash, so don't leave a single drop—finish it!"

Done. Received.

A beverage carrying an old man's kindness.

Pop!!!

I cracked open the lid of what looked like a vitamin-packed drink and downed it in one go.

Gulp!!!

By tomorrow morning I'd be back in a younger body, right?

Or maybe not.

If it were this easy, no one would still be stuck without regressing.

"Sir."

"What?"

"Are there other elders around here doing the same work?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'll go help them too."

"....Just go home."

"Come on, tell me!"

"Tch... Won't do any good... Fine! Head that way! There's one huffing and puffing up the hill around now."

"Yes! Thank you! You'll be blessed for this!!"

I ran in the direction the old man had pointed.

I hadn't realized Seoul had a neighborhood this full of uphill roads.

Even around the orphanage hadn't been this bad.

"Aigoo..!"

"There! Sir!! Let me help you!!!"

"Well, I'd be grateful... Wait—?? Watch out!!!!"

"......"

Watch out for what?

This wasn't a road cars could enter.

And it wasn't a motorcycle engine either.

Creak—

An ugly sound from above my head.

I looked up.

Thunk!!!

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠signboard tore free and plummeted straight toward my skull.

This was....

"The perfect cliché..!! Come on! My childhood!!!"

CRASH!!!!