He lay splayed comfortably on the couch, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed behind his head.
Let's eat something. I'm going to take a break since I already used up 8 hours of my life.
Ramen with toppings!
BRRRR
The satisfying warmth of the meal settled in his stomach. But as he placed the bowl in the sink, a notification on his phone snuffed out his fleeting contentment.
[National Tax Service: Notice of Income Verification Request...]
A cold knot tightened in his stomach. Already? How?
He fumbled to open the full message. The text was formal and direct.
The National Tax Service has identified a discrepancy in reported income. A wire transfer of 500,000 KRW, described as "CONSULTING FEE," has been flagged for verification. Please log in to the NTS portal to provide supporting documentation for this income within 30 days.
The gravity of the situation hit him instantly. With his abysmal credit score, he was likely already on a watchlist. This wasn't a simple request; it was a mandatory summons. Ignoring it meant, at best, a crippling fine. At worst, a lengthy jail sentence for tax evasion and fraud. It would be financial suicide.
"These motherfuckers," he muttered to the silent apartment. "Already spying on me."
A paranoid thought surfaced: Maybe the North Koreans sent him a scam email to install a keylogger. He dismissed it just as quickly. The sender was authentic. This was the real, terrifying deal.
His response had to be precise and professional. He immediately opened his laptop. The System had provided legitimate completion certificates. He compiled the Fiverr message history, the project brief, and the final delivery receipt into a clean, defensible paper trail.
He quickly navigated to the NTS portal, the familiar dread of bureaucratic paperwork washing over him. He attached the System-generated certificate, the Fiverr conversation log, and a screenshot of the completed project.
Double check. Everything is in order.
Upload complete.
A wave of relief, thin but tangible, passed through him. The ball was now in the government's court. He closed the laptop with a definitive snap.
"Alright, let's go to Seven-Eleven. I need proper groceries."
…
The fluorescent lights of the Seven-Eleven hummed overhead. He knew this store like the back of his hand. He grabbed the essentials—rice, eggs, and other formalities required for a proper meal. Now he needed coffee, the nitro for his engine.
But Dong-seung found himself paralyzed before the wall of instant coffee, his brain too fried from code and tax forms to make a simple decision.
"Still can't make up your mind, I see. Some things never change."
He turned. A woman with sparkling blonde hair was smiling at him, a playful, knowing glint in her eyes. She had an air of effortless cool, from her stylishly casual clothes to the way she casually leaned near him. There was a vague, nagging familiarity, like a song he'd heard long ago but couldn't name.
"Uh... I'm sorry, do I..." he stammered, mentally scrambling.
Her smile widened into a full, dazzling grin. "Wow. You really don't remember, do you? And to think I sat two rows in front of you for three years in Professor Kim's Business Ethics class. You spent most of it looking like you were planning a corporate takeover of the student council."
A memory, fuzzy and distant, snapped into focus. The back of a head, a specific laugh during a group project... "Seo-yeon?" he breathed, the name feeling strange on his tongue. "Han Seo-yeon?"
"The one and only," she said with a mock bow. "Although you clearly needed a second to reboot. I'm hurt, Dong-seung. Truly."
"I... I'm sorry! It's just... You look..." He gestured vaguely, his face growing warm. Different was the understatement of the century. The studious, slightly reserved girl he remembered had transformed into this stunning, confident woman.
"Like I finally learned how to use a hair straightener and buy clothes that fit?" she finished for him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't worry, it's a common reaction. It's good to see you. I heard you were... doing your own thing."
The polite euphemism for being unemployed and failing. He winced internally. "Something like that. I'm a freelance programmer now."
"Really? That's awesome," she said, her interest seeming genuine. "Working on anything cool?"
Encouraged, he told her about 'Website-Detangler,' explaining its function. To his surprise, she immediately grasped the concept.
"That's actually really smart," she said, nodding. "A lot of small business owners I work with need that. The price point is perfect, too." She pulled out her phone. "What's the link? I'll check it out."
As she typed, her eyebrows shot up. "Dong-seung. This is ranked #8 on Gumroad. Did you know that?"
"It is?" He fumbled for his own phone, his heart leaping. She was right.
"You built a trending product and didn't even notice? You really are the same, just buried in your own world," she teased, shaking her head with a fond laugh. Then she proposed something radical.
"I don't like talking business in public. Let's go to your place," she said, her finger pointing directly at him.
Dong-seung hesitated, his mind reeling. First, that she even remembered him. He'd been popular in university—the "weirdly handsome" enigma whose shyness was mistaken for aloofness. His reputation had crystallized, and not in a good way, after he famously rejected a campus goddess. He wasn't bullied, but he became a ghost, an outsider—a role that, truth be told, felt more familiar than the brief spotlight anyway.
"Alright. Follow me," he finally said, gesturing with a slight nod.
Seo-yeon's smile widened into a triumphant beam. He said yes. She'd carried a quiet crush on him since her first semester. Even now, with his brown hair a little messy and tired shadows under his eyes, he was strikingly handsome. The sharp, clean line of his jaw only accentuated the quiet intensity of his gaze—those "hunter eyes" that had made him seem untouchable, a fortress she'd never had the courage to besiege.
"You have to pay!" the cashier yelled, his agitation visible. "We aren't a charity! Are you some kind of thug!?"
After the awkward payment and exit, she immediately interlocked her arm with his, pulling herself close as they walked. She looked up at his profile, studying the sharp jawline and the focused, distant look in his eyes for a reaction. There was none. His expression remained as impassive as stone.
"Oppa," she ventured, tightening her grip slightly. "Do you currently have a girlfriend?"
"I don't," he said, his gaze fixed ahead. "I did fool around a bit after graduation." He shook his head, a faint, dismissive gesture. "Nothing serious, though."
His expression was still lifeless, his handsome features set in a mask of cool detachment. He looked like the dark monarch from Solo Leveling before the story forced a smile out of him. Yet, to her, that unwavering, serious demeanor was exactly what she had always liked. He was still the same, and for the first time, she was finally walking beside him.
…
"Is this really your apartment?" she asked, a brilliant smile spreading across her face.
Before he could answer, she darted towards the kitchen. "You have Miele appliances?!" Her eyes lit up like the city at night.
Dong-seung was unimpressed. He'd had his moment of excitement long ago, when he first moved in. Now, it was just the backdrop for his grind.
She peeked into the bathroom. "You even have a Japanese toilet!" she called out, her voice echoing. "Heavens, a rainshower, too!"
"You have multiple rooms, two bathrooms, luxury appliances, nice furniture, a big balcony…" she marveled, touring the space.
Dong-seung gave a single, slow nod.
She struck a mock-thoughtful pose, finger to her chin. "So, just how big is this place?"
"160 square meters," he stated, his tone dry.
My god. My future husband is loaded. I have to reel him in, now!
She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oppa," she began, letting her voice waver just slightly. "I'm paying 3 million a month for a shoebox. It's bleeding me dry." A small, perfect tear welled in the corner of her eye. "Could I… could I please be your roommate?"
Hah! You will be mine!
Dong-seung's eyebrow furrowed in thought.
She intensified her gaze, making her eyes wide and pleading.
Wait. If she moves in, I can charge her rent. That would cover my entire obligation to Uncle Tae-shik. My freelance income becomes pure profit, amplified by the Detangler's passive stream. It's the most efficient financial move.
"You can have the guest room," he declared, his tone all business. "The rent is 950,000 won."
Seo-yeon's initial surprise melted into something else entirely. She looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she tried to hide a smile.
Aish..., she thought, her heart fluttering. He's so traditional. He doesn't want a freeloader; he wants a partner. This is his awkward, direct way of building a foundation for us.
"A fair price," she said aloud, her voice a masterclass in controlled nonchalance. "It's the responsible thing to do."
Dong-seung nodded, relieved she was pragmatic. "Good. It just covers my rent. It's a purely business arrangement."
Of course, he has to say that, she mentally cooed. He's so shy about his feelings. Using "business" to hide his intentions. He's already planning our future!
"Fine," she said with a feigned sigh of resignation. "I'll pay. It's the least I can do." This is perfect. He's testing me, and I'm going to be the most perfect, responsible wife he could ever imagine!
Dong-seung gave a single, satisfied nod. The deal was sealed. The numbers added up.
"So, when are you moving in?"
She immediately launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Right now, Oppa!"
The sudden physical contact short-circuited his analytical calm. His eyes widened, his body went rigid, and a flush of red crept up his neck. The unflappable "dark monarch" was, for a moment, completely flustered.
Before he could fully process the hug, she bounced back, already pulling out her phone. "I'll call my dad! He'll bring my belongings over right away."
Dong-seung took a subtle half-step back, mechanically smoothing his shirt. The fluster on his face receded, replaced by the cool, detached mask she found so captivating.
"Fine by me," he coldly replied, as if the previous five seconds of human contact had never occurred.
He retreated to his home office—a spacious desk in the sun-drenched living room. He might have the demeanor of a recluse, but he wasn't a vampire; he needed the light.
SNAP
His laptop whirred to life. With the chaos of Seo-yeon's arrival, he'd forgotten to check his Gumroad dashboard. He navigated to the site.
"My god!" The words burst from him, a mix of shock and pure elation.
Dashboard Overview:
Product: Website-Detangler
Total Sales: 148
Total Revenue: 6,512,000 ₩
He paid the full amount out.
BRRRRRR
[Shinhan Bank: Your Balance is 6,511,000 ₩]
Just from the first day! The amount was slightly less after Gumroad's fees, but it was still a number that made his head spin. This is a pipeline. I can earn even more. But I can't get complacent. I need to focus on improving my Photoshop and C++, look at the feedback, and release patches.
Fueled by a surge of gratitude and newfound capability, he quickly dialed his uncle.
"Uncle!" he said, the excitement raw in his voice. "I can pay you back! I can send you 3 million won right now!"
Silence on the other end.
"Did you get it from a loan shark?" Uncle Tae-shik's voice was low and serious. "Or did you do something illegal?"
"No! Nothing like that. I'm freelancing as a programmer," Dong-seung insisted. "I made a piece of software. This is my first big payout. Please, let me repay you for the rent."
His uncle interjected, his tone shifting from suspicion to gentle firmness. "No. You don't have to."
"But—"
"Use that money to improve your business," his uncle said, the finality of a wealthy man who understood capital. "You know I don't need it." This was an understatement. Uncle Tae-shik's portfolio of condos, apartment complexes, and various businesses was the stuff of family legend.
"No, I can rep—"
"Invest the money, Dong-seung," his uncle interjected, his voice leaving no room for argument. "No buts."
Beep. Beep.
The line went dead. He'd hung up. It was something his generous, ever-patient uncle had never, ever done to him.
Well. That was unexpected.