Life, an Eternal Riddle Without Answers
"You want a loan using the World Tree as collateral?"
Your loan consultation will be handled by Dimensional Credit Vault associate Kim Jian.
Life is an eternal riddle without answers.
It was a common saying, and I, who had been born in South Korea and struggled desperately just to make ends meet, agreed with it wholeheartedly.
Over the past 28 years, life had thrown countless challenges my way. Things like entrance exams for English kindergartens or my parents' passing—trials so old I could barely remember them anymore. Then, once I'd grown enough to understand, came the college entrance exam, breakups after transfers, the absurdities of military life, and more.
Whenever I faced a problem, I always tried my best to submit the optimal answer.
But this time, finding a proper solution didn't seem easy at all.
Problem: A poor caricature artist is being hounded for overdue rent. Before he ends up on the streets, secure him a stable job or enough living expenses.
"I'm sorry, customer, but it looks like the loan will be difficult..."
"Pardon?"
I thought he was a painter by profession. But apparently, the bank saw it differently.
"Our head office has recently shifted policy to not approve loans for the unemployed..."
"Unemployed?"
"You wrote 'painter' in the occupation field, right?"
"Yes."
To be precise, a caricature specialist painter...
"Occupations like painter or full-time investor are all treated as unemployed by default."
Me, unemployed? Of all things.
"I'm truly sorry, but you might want to try another bank..."
"I just came from there."
"...We're really sorry."
The teller bowed repeatedly as if they'd committed some grave error, but it didn't move me. I'd already been apologized to at five banks since morning, washing up here in the end.
"Aigoo. Shit."
Whoosh—
The moment I stepped out after being rejected for a 3 million won emergency loan, an unexpected downpour started.
No forecast had mentioned rain, so I had to trudge home completely soaked.
"Should've brought an umbrella."
Thinking about it, I wanted to, but our house didn't even have one. And I obviously had no money left to buy one at a convenience store.
How did I end up in this mess?
I reflected on the past for a moment, but couldn't pinpoint any particular reason.
For the first three years after becoming a painter at 22, the money was pretty good. But when did it start? My drawings gradually stopped selling.
I wondered if it was just a slump and clung on desperately for another three years, but all that increased was my debt.
I took yoga classes, meditated, even went to psychological counseling. But nothing worked.
'Um, doctor, is there such a thing as a sudden drop in work performance after having a weird dream?'
'What kind of dream?'
After dreaming someone gouged out my eyeball and implanted a new one, my lines started shaking subtly. I dismissed it as a nonsense dream back then, but now that I think about it, it matched exactly when my slump began.
'That's definitely a nonsense dream.'
The psychiatrist said it flatly, and I'd been stuck in the slump ever since.
Truth be told, I don't really think that dream was the cause either. It was just one of countless dreams in life. If a nightmare could ruin your drawing skills, it'd be some fantasy bullshit life.
I just needed something to blame. Admitting it was my lack of skill would've made me feel endlessly pathetic.
Vrrr!
The moment I ducked into an underpass to escape the rain, my smartphone buzzed wildly in my pocket.
A parade of messages that made my stomach churn just looking at them.
I emptied my pockets, but I didn't even have enough for cigarettes, let alone a lighter.
Three years ago, I was enjoying a decent single life. But when caricature sales plummeted, I had to bounce between day jobs.
Unloading parcels, construction grunt work—I did whatever it took to earn money. But it wrecked my body, landing me in the hospital for months.
Of course, I didn't want to do manual labor. With just a high school diploma, no real career history, and shitty luck, I couldn't land a proper office job, that's all.
In the end, even my meager savings went to hospital bills, leaving me unable to pay rent without borrowing from a bank.
And yet, every bank I visited—including my main one—rejected the emergency loan. All because I didn't have a fixed workplace.
"...Fuck."
The hospital's consultation channel pinned at the top of my messenger app grated on my nerves.
People like me, with no social safety net, can't afford to get sick. It just pushes you deeper into the abyss.
But that shouldn't be a reason to deny a small loan.
If I were the bank's credit officer, I'd never reject it. I know I'm diligent and trustworthy. Plus, 3 million won is hardly an amount I couldn't repay with work.
"Mark Twain was right."
The American novelist who wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer said banks lend you an umbrella when the weather's sunny, then take it back when it rains.
Twenty-eight-year-old painter Kim Jian, umbrella-less, was one step from the streets.
"I'm home..."
After trudging 30 minutes through the rain, I muttered a meaningless greeting to my semi-basement studio apartment from last year. Depression welled up.
The utility bills stuffed in the shoe cabinet by the mailman were over three months overdue. It'd been half a year since my deposit ran dry from unpaid rent.
The landlord waited for me to give up and leave, without fixing the leaking ceiling. My greatest rebellion against this knife-to-the-throat world was cohabiting with mold in a knee-high bucket.
"Haa."
I should've chosen a job that played to my strengths. My specialty was observing people.
Whether fellow artists I'd kept in touch with or high school classmates—from way back, the ones I predicted would succeed all overcame obstacles and made it big. Conversely, the ones I pegged as failures tumbled into ruin, rich family or talent be damned.
I chose painting to capture lives like that. But apparently, I had no knack for picking careers.
"Why'd I even bother drawing..."
Vrrr!
After sitting dazed for hours in wet clothes, the smartphone vibration yanked me back to reality.
"If you're gonna nag about rent, fix the leak first..."
I checked—it wasn't the landlord.
"Dimensional Credit Vault..."
A bank sent a passing-document-screening text.
"What the...?"
[-Transportation and meal expenses (100,000 won) will be provided after the interview.]
"......"
Had I ever applied to a bank? From experience, these bait texts never led to anything good.
Felt fishy, so best to stay home on October 18th and rest.
"—five chickens."
That's what I thought, but my eyes wouldn't leave that 100,000 won figure.
~Monday, October 18th, 9:30 AM~
"...Haa."
In the end, I was there at the address from the text, wearing my one and only suit.
"It's real."
Lifting my head, I saw a massive orange sign reading Dimensional Credit Vault above the building entrance. A huge eyeball next to the letters—probably their logo?
Through the glass doors, tellers bustled at counters. Looked like the first floor of a decent-sized bank headquarters.
"Yeah. Nothing to lose..."
If I get in, jackpot. If not, no big deal. They pay 100,000 won just for showing up either way.
I strode confidently through the main doors.
"Jamaica whole chicken for dinner."
Chicken tonight.
Fzzzt—
The moment Kim Jian entered the building, the orange Dimensional Credit Vault sign instantly morphed into an ordinary commercial bank's.
The door he'd flung open didn't lead to the first floor—but somewhere else entirely.
Not here. Somewhere far, far away.