Chapter 10
I had never deposited the monthly rent to the landlady. No—I didn’t even have that kind of money—so when I heard that a full year’s rent had been deposited in my name, it made sense.
“Who on earth…”
Junho immediately thought of someone and tried calling, but then—
“…Ah, no. Never mind. Yes, Aunt.”
He looked blank, as if he couldn’t find a proper answer.
“Who would do this for me…”
“Daddy!”
“…”
“Daddy!!”
“Ah! Oh! Chaeya!”
“Chaeya is hungry.”
I rubbed my hollow stomach and puffed out my cheeks.
“Ah, right. Time to eat. Sorry.”
Junho soon stood before the stove and expertly poured oil into a frying pan.
Before long, a warm table was set. In front of me was the fried egg Junho had cooked, and in the center of the table were kimchi and seasoned dried squid given by the first-floor landlady.
“Kyaa! The aunt’s side dishes are the best! And Daddy’s fried egg is the best too!”
My mouth watered.
“That’s right. She makes kimchi so well, and she’s so kind. Dad, we’ve lived here for five years already, and she’s never raised the rent.”
Even though it was a rooftop room, the location in Seoul wasn’t bad at all, and the price seemed cheap compared to the surrounding market rates.
“I need to repay her someday… But who paid the rent…?”
Junho still looked dazed as he placed seasoned radish kimchi on top of his rice.
The snacks the landlady had bought for us were also sitting in a corner of the room.
“Is she worried about something?”
“Ah, she’s worried about her son’s future. He’s in his third year of high school now—whether to go to Yeongseong University’s Computer Engineering department or Hanil University’s Civil Engineering department.”
Come to think of it, it was around the time for regular admission results and registration.
“I don’t know much about admissions, but Hanil University is much more prestigious, right? Her son wants to go to Yeongseong because he’s interested in computers, but apparently the teachers at school are telling him to go to Hanil.”
Well, producing Hanil University acceptances is important for a school’s reputation, after all.
Hmm, so that’s the kind of worry she has?
I stuffed a mouthful of rice and thought:
If I had to choose between the two, of course…
The corners of my mouth twitched upward.
“Definitely Hanil…”
“Chaeya would go to Yeongseong University.”
“Huh…?”
Junho’s eyes widened.
It was true that Hanil University was more popular at the moment.
But as I knew, after the IMF, an unprecedented private school corruption scandal would break out, causing Hanil University to crumble.
A provincial university would acquire the bankrupt Hanil University, sell off its land to pay debts, and take the Hanil name—something the graduates would inevitably oppose.
On the other hand, Yeongseong University, now far below Hanil, would receive investment from a major corporation and, with an incredible employment rate, jump three tiers in university rankings, eventually taking the spot Hanil once held.
What’s more, the landlady’s son had chosen Computer Engineering.
In a future society where demand for IT professionals was increasing, there would be no worries about employment.
Even in the future I came from, where AI had replaced a significant number of entry-level jobs, demand for senior professionals with specialized knowledge in the field wouldn’t decrease. Choosing Yeongseong University’s Computer Engineering department now was a wise choice.
More than anything:
“The landlord oppa should do what he waaants to do!”
Because choices made under someone’s pressure always leave regrets.
“Even if you fall, if you chawwenge without feaw, you won’t wegwet it later.”
Junho stared at me with complicated eyes for a long time.
This was probably relevant to Junho now as well.
“Life only comes once, and no one can wive it for you. That’s what… Mommy said.”
Junho, who had been silently surprised, soon smiled faintly.
“I suppose… that’s true?”
Munch munch—I neatly finished my entire bowl of rice.
Money.
Noa, who had been digging in the ground, brought a scroll in its mouth and unfurled it.
[Account balance: 98,205,300 won.]
One day when Junho had gone to work, I rummaged through the drawer, pulled out an envelope, and put in the claim documents to send to the insurance company.
Mom’s death certificate and other documents—Junho had gotten them when the Kang siblings organized my paperwork last time. I asked him to make copies at the stationery store in front of our house as an errand.
I barely managed to drop it in the tall red mailbox and waited anxiously. When the notification sound rang and the 1 billion won was deposited, I was so relieved.
Thank you, Mom…
I would never forget Saebyeol’s heart, who poured all her love into me.
Anyway, I used part of the insurance money to transfer the rent to the landlady through Noa.
It wasn’t difficult since Junho’s notebook had the landlady’s account number written down.
Even after the transfer, so much remained. This was more than enough seed money for investment.
And if you asked anyone who had lived through the modern era what they would invest in if they could go back to this time, probably five out of ten would answer like this:
Hyunseong Electronics.
Hyunseong Electronics, whose stock price had fallen to 10,000 won per share due to the IMF liquidity crisis, would see its stock price rise to 40,000 won just one year later.
“Invest 50 million won in Hyunseong Jeonja.”
[Target not found.]
“Are you pretending not to understhand on purpose?”
Was it teasing me for my baby talk?
[No, I’m not. U ´x` U]
The white puppy looked away.
This little brat? Lately, it had started developing a mind of its own and was getting annoyed with my commands.
“Should I just dewete you?”
I could see the delete button.
When I glared threateningly at the upper-right corner where the delete button was, Noa hurriedly started working.
[Would you like to purchase 5,000 shares of Hyunseong Electronics from Myeongil Securities? ૮₍ ◔ ᴥ ◔ ₎ა]
“Call.”
[Stock purchase complete.]
Now I planned to leave this money buried for a while, waiting for the miracle of 50 million won turning into 200 million won.
Heave-ho! As I stretched, I suddenly heard voices from outside the window.
That voice is…
The landlady’s son?
I gently opened the window and peeked outside.
Junho was talking with the landlady’s son, Minsu.
Minsu had followed Junho like an older brother since middle school.
From what I could hear, it seemed to be about Minsu’s future path. Choosing a university is difficult, after all.
“Chaeya said something,” Junho’s gentle voice came through.
“She said no one can live your life for you, so you should do what you want to do.”
Minsu’s eyes wavered slightly.
“…Chaeya? That little kid?”
“That’s right. Even a five-year-old knows that truth of the world.”
Maybe because he was standing next to Minsu, who still looked like a high schooler, Junho seemed especially mature today.
“Success and failure are mine to own, but if you don’t challenge something because you’re scared or because someone forced you, you’ll definitely regret it later.”
“…”
“Life only comes once.”
The winter sky, filled with twinkling stars, covered the world.
“So I’m going to… unfold the dream I once folded away again.”
At Junho’s words, the corners of my mouth naturally lifted.
Soon, Minsu, who had been watching Junho for a long time, also nodded.
“…Hyung, I think I’ll try that too.”
On television, they were broadcasting the progress of the national gold-collecting campaign to overcome the IMF.
I watched it for a while, then changed the channel.
A debate program about the upcoming presidential election was airing.
“Who do you think will become the next president?”
Junho, who had been rustling papers behind me, organizing a bundle, spoke with curiosity.
I lifted the corners of my mouth slightly.
Because I knew the outcome of the upcoming election.
“It’s going to be a close call, don’t you think?”
At my words, Junho gasped and said in surprise.
“Our Chaeya knows what ‘close call’ means?”
His eyes sparkled as if looking at a genius baby.
“You’re truly amazing.”
It was a bit exaggerated, but I didn’t dislike it. Rather, I liked that I was Junho’s pride.
It’s rewarding to raise me, right? Hehe.
Just to talk for a moment: from the money left after paying a year’s rent, I invested 50 million won in Hyunseong, and the remaining 48 million won in election theme stocks.
Candidates promote the sectors they want to develop through their pledges, and if elected, stock prices in those sectors often jump.
And the stocks I invested in were ones that would jump significantly after this candidate won the upcoming election.
The next president will clearly focus on expanding social infrastructure like roads, ports, and railways, so I bought a bunch of construction and infrastructure-related stocks.
Due to the economic crisis, many assets were undervalued. Among them, I planned to invest mainly in stocks with high profit margins relative to their risk level.
Real estate is the easiest method, but for example, if you went back to 2012, wouldn’t most people choose Bitcoin over real estate?
Knowing the flow of the future is an indescribable blessing in a capitalist society—you can ignore ‘risk’ and reap enormous gains.
[Over the past month, you have achieved an average return of 12%. ૮₍´˶ᵔ ᴥ ᵔ˶₎ა]
Look at this return rate—just looking at it fills me up!
“Dad, did you organize the audition list?”
I sprang up and walked over to Junho.
“Yeah. Here it is.”
Sitting in front of the printed list of new auditions, I carefully searched for projects Junho should apply for.
Just as I expected.
This place really seemed to be the past of reality. The works on the list were all dramas that had actually aired in the past in the world before I possessed this body.
Of course, some were so old that I was seeing them for the first time.
Which one had the highest viewership rating among these?
“But… hmm.”
As I turned the pages one by one with my small hands, Junho shrugged.
“Writer Kim Bongcheol truly wrote a history of hits with his last drama, <Super Hit>. Our country’s drama being exported overseas—isn’t that amazing? So I’m worried about this one because the competition will be fierce, but…”
“Don’t do that one.”
“Uh… huh?”
Junho’s pale face stiffened awkwardly with embarrassment.
The work he thought was the most promising would become the biggest flop of Director Kim Bongcheol’s career, with a sluggish storyline and low ratings.
“Chaeya, Writer Kim Bongcheol—he made his debut in 1990 with <Yellow Dandelion> and has won numerous awards at the Baeksang Arts Awards. He’s had five consecutive hits. Won’t this one do well too? Especially since the background of Kim Bongcheol’s new work is a global…”
“Anyways, this one is not it. If you like Kim Bongcheol, audition for the drama coming out in thwee years. That one will be so successful it will wewwite dwama history.”
“Uh… huh?”
I cut off Junho’s lengthy explanation and flipped through the papers quickly.
“Well, if Chaeya says so… I guess that’s how it is…?”
And then, I finally found the name of a work that looked familiar.
This is…?
My eyes shook violently.
After barely composing myself, I looked at Junho.
His pale skin and delicate features, his gentle but handsome eyes. He gave off an unmistakable vibe of a melodrama lead, and yet—
Flip, flip—
The impactful characters and looks from works by the PD who had planned this project overlapped in my mind.
They say every PD has a preferred actor type, and I suddenly thought that maybe Junho fit that type.
Yeah, maybe…
“How about this one?”
“Huh? This is…”
Junho slowly read the title of the work.
“…<Typhoon Internal Medicine>?”
