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Woojin let out a long breath as he felt the lukewarm air blowing from the subway ventilation system.
It was 9:30 on a weekday morning. Normally, this was the time he would be struggling with his company monitor while
anxiously watching his team leader’s irritated expressions. Or perhaps he would be buried in dust while counting
inventory in a client’s warehouse, a task his slippery junior, Minseok, had skillfully avoided.
But what stood before him now was not the bleak wall of an office.
It was a massive bank headquarters towering majestically in the heart of Seoul.
Woojin slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his backpack and once again felt the zipper bag.
As his fingertips touched the thin, crinkling plastic, his wildly pounding heart strangely settled down.
“I’m here.”
Woojin whispered quietly to himself, took another deep breath, and walked through the revolving doors.
The spacious, comfortable lobby had an atmosphere that was quiet and immaculate beyond comparison with ordinary
branches. Everyone sitting around with waiting tickets looked remarkably relaxed.
Woojin walked straight to the information desk. In a voice pretending to be calm, he spoke.
“I’m here to collect my lottery winnings.”
The eyes of the uniformed employee widened for an instant before immediately turning into a professional smile.
“I’ll need to verify your identification and the original winning ticket.”
Woojin took the zipper bag from his backpack and carefully handed it over together with his ID. The employee quickly
scanned the contents and nodded.
“Everything has been verified. Please come this way.”
Instead of taking Woojin to an ordinary counter, the employee guided him to a private elevator farther inside. The
elevator glided upward, arriving at an exclusive VIP area completely cut off from the noise outside.
After passing through a hallway covered in soft carpeting, a thick mahogany door opened.
Inside was a reception room furnished with comfortable leather sofas and illuminated by gentle lighting. Woojin
carefully sat on the sofa, clutching the backpack he had brought instead of his old briefcase.
A moment later, a representative dressed in a neat dark navy suit entered carrying a tablet and a stack of documents.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Congratulations. We’ve completed all the necessary internal verification procedures without
any issues.”
The representative’s lips curved into a smooth smile.
“After deducting taxes, the actual amount that will be deposited into your account will be approximately 1.423 billion
won. Shall I transfer it directly to an account under your name?”
“Yes. Please do.”
After a few taps on the keyboard, the smartphone in Woojin’s pocket vibrated briefly.
A notification from his banking app appeared on the screen.
The number of digits displayed looked almost unreal.
[1,423,000,000 won]
Woojin swallowed hard.
He counted the digits to himself three times before finally nodding.
It was real.
1.4 billion won had been deposited into his account.
The representative pushed the tablet across the table and spoke in an even gentler voice.
“We have a customized asset-management program for customers with substantial deposits like yours. If we create a
portfolio combining global funds with high-performing returns and blue-chip stock-linked products, your annual rate of
return could be considerably higher than it is now...”
“No, thank you.”
Woojin shook his head firmly before the representative could even finish.
“I’m going to put everything into principal-guaranteed deposits. I’m not investing in anything.”
The representative’s eyes twitched slightly.
Usually, when people got their hands on this much money, they were dissatisfied with ordinary bank interest and wanted
to pursue even slightly higher returns. Woojin had cut him off so decisively that it seemed to catch him off guard.
“Of course, deposits are safe and reliable, but when you take inflation into consideration, diversifying a portion of
your assets would be advantageous in the long term to protect their value. Our financial experts would manage the
products for you personally, and the risk is also quite low.”
“I’m not investing. No funds, no stocks.”
There was not even a second of hesitation in Woojin’s response.
‘I’m not about to touch stocks or crypto, then spend every day staring at charts and stressing myself out.’
He had no desire to make even more money by investing his fortune or to show it off to others.
All he wanted was an ordinary life where he could stop worrying about money and no longer had to endure his team
leader’s old-fashioned behavior just to keep working.
He had already achieved financial freedom. There was no reason to return to a life of being chased by numbers.
Woojin brought out the plan he had meticulously organized in Excel the previous night.
“First, please raise my transfer limit to the maximum so I can transfer 1 billion won to other commercial banks and
savings banks, and move it into parking accounts. I’ll split it up myself in 50-million-won increments according to the
deposit protection limit.”
“Ah... yes, of course. It may be a little troublesome. Are you sure you want to do it yourself?”
“Yes. And put the remaining 400 million won into the highest-interest one-year fixed deposit you offer. I’ll leave only
about 20 million won in a regular checking account so I can use it immediately.”
The representative swallowed a small sigh at Woojin’s fortress-like defensive financial plan and swiped through the
tablet.
“Understood. We’ll separate the accounts and set everything up according to your request.”
After leaving the bank, Woojin immediately hailed a taxi.
His next destination was Donghaeng Lottery headquarters in Seocho-dong.
Looking at the scenery passing outside the car window, Woojin let out a hollow laugh.
Even after suddenly gaining 1.4 billion won, he did not feel overwhelmingly excited or as though he had conquered the
entire world.
Instead, he had become strangely calm.
‘I never imagined having money actually deposited into my account would make me feel this peaceful.’
Even after arriving at Donghaeng Lottery headquarters, the procedure went smoothly.
Unlike the regular lottery, the pension lottery was paid out monthly, so there was apparently a brief interview process
as well.
“What kind of dream did you have?”
“I think I dreamed about my ancestors.”
“What do you plan to use the winnings for?”
“I’m going to pay off my loans and give my parents some spending money.”
Woojin mechanically delivered the model answers he had prepared in advance, and the representative smiled as he
completed the paperwork.
“Starting next month, 5.46 million won after taxes will be deposited into your designated account on the 20th of every
month. Congratulations.”
After stepping outside the building, Woojin stretched broadly beneath the clear autumn sky.
1:00 p.m.
Every procedure was now perfectly complete.
His bank account now contained 1.4 billion won, safely distributed and generating interest, while more than five million
won in cash would be deposited into his account every month without him having to do anything.
He settled down at an outdoor table of a small franchise café nearby.
After ordering a hot Americano and a sandwich, he took an old notebook from his pocket.
The sandwich tasted exceptionally delicious today. It was nothing like the dry food he usually hurriedly chewed down
during his lunch break.
He slowly savored the food in his mouth and began pressing his pen firmly against the paper, writing down the three
principles he had organized in Excel the previous night.
First, all monthly expenses, including rent, food, utilities, hobbies, and his parents’ medical expenses and allowance,
would be covered within the monthly pension lottery winnings.
Second, any major initial expenses, such as buying a car, paying a moving deposit, or purchasing decent furniture, would
be paid for only from the 20 million won short-term settlement fund he had set aside separately.
Third, the principal of the lottery winnings placed in deposits across multiple banks would never be touched, no matter
what happened.
“Perfect. If I live like this, I’ll never have to worry about money for the rest of my life.”
Woojin closed the notebook and took a sip of coffee.
The vague concept of financial freedom that had once floated somewhere in his imagination had now become a concrete
lifestyle plan that he could directly control and manage himself.
He was not envious at all of the high returns offered by investment products.
Not losing money.
Not overreaching.
And preserving his current peace of mind for as long as possible.
Those were the firm rules Woojin had established for his new life.
Woojin stood up and stopped in front of a crosswalk.
Suddenly, his reflection in the glass window of a shop caught his eye.
His shoes were slightly worn down at the heels, causing them to tilt.
His black suit trousers were slightly stretched around the knees.
The leather handle of his work briefcase had peeled and become smooth from years of use.
He looked exactly the same as when he had left home that morning.
The ordinary, exhausted appearance of an average office worker who could be found anywhere in South Korea.
Nothing about his outward appearance had changed.
But inside, everything was different.
‘Even if my salary stops tomorrow, I’m not afraid of the future.’
That single fact had completely removed the heavy fatigue that had always weighed down Woojin’s shoulders.
Even his hurried steps, which had always seemed as though he were being chased by something, now naturally carried a
sense of leisure.
The traffic light turned green, and everyone began crossing the street together.
Woojin joined them.
He could immediately curse in the company group chat and disappear, or throw his resignation letter in his team leader’s
face tomorrow morning while shouting at him.
‘Team Leader, those damn clients you kept dumping on me? You handle them yourself now.’
He now had enough money and courage to stage the satisfying resignation scene he had only ever seen on internet forums.
He could even pat Minseok on the shoulder and tell him to handle his own work from now on.
But Woojin shook his head.
‘There’s no need to leave in such a dramatic way. I’ll cleanly wrap things up my own way. Wasting emotional energy on
revenge isn’t worth it.’
He also intended to keep his winnings secret from even his family for the time being.
A sudden fortune could test people’s hearts and twist even strong relationships in unexpected directions.
He could gradually take care of his parents without making it obvious.
Tomorrow was Thursday.
He would go to work early in the morning as usual, submit the report he had failed to finish yesterday, and quietly take
care of his morning duties.
Then, after lunch, he planned to quietly visit the HR department and obtain a resignation form.
According to the regulations stated in his employment contract, he would use his remaining annual leave and faithfully
complete the handover process.
He would make sure no one could say behind his back that Assistant Manager Jung had irresponsibly run away or lacked
basic decency.
A perfectly clean resignation.
That was the final courtesy he could offer to the seven years of his youth he had devoted to the company, and his way of
respecting himself.
The stairs leading down to the subway station.
Woojin’s steps were lighter and more cheerful than ever.
“I’m kind of looking forward to seeing the team leader’s expression tomorrow.”
Imagining the bewildered look on his boss’s face when he stared at him, Woojin let out a small laugh.
For the first time in his life, he was actually looking forward to going to work tomorrow morning.