Monday.
Photoshop.
He'd seen a TikTok and felt a sudden surge of motivation. The tutorial was linked right there—how hard could it be?
After fiddling with a complex filter for ten minutes, it stubbornly refused to work as shown.
VROOOOOOOOOOOOOM
His laptop's fan erupted, howling like the engine of an F-16 scrambling for takeoff.
This is unusual, he thought, frowning at the overheating brick. I have a Ryzen 3 processor. The number 3 sounds lucky; it must be powerful, right? His system-given knowledge was useless here; when it came to hardware, he was a complete layman.
He could swallow his pride and ask Min-jun to accompany him to an electronics store. His former rival would probably relish the chance to show off his superior knowledge.
His uncle would be the most knowledgeable, of course, but Dong-seung didn't want to pester him further. The man was busy, his schedule punctuated by the roar of his E63S AMG screaming through the neighborhood.
Dong-seung had once asked if he'd modified the exhaust, but his uncle had always denied it with a wink. Since he never got into trouble for it, Dong-seung guessed he had somehow made it legal.
Sometimes, the AMG was swapped for his uncle's prized 1997 Porsche 911 Turbo, finished in Arena Red. He knew it was the last of the air-cooled legends because his uncle had explained it, his voice full of reverence, during a terrifying, exhilarating joyride when Dong-seung was just a child. That specific, guttural roar was seared into his memory.
But that was then. This was now. He needed to solve this problem himself.
And then, he experienced a moment of pure enlightenment. We live in the age of AI! Why guess when he could consult an oracle? He didn't need Min-jun; he needed DeepSeek. The glorious, and famously free, chatbot could process images, summarize complex topics, and its latest model had reasoning capabilities that could logically decode a problem with more finesse than most people.
He remembered Min-jun boasting that some of the premium models could rival a PhD graduate, all while making that infuriatingly smug, naughty face. But why pay for a postgrad when you have a free genius at your fingertips?
He immediately navigated to the DeepSeek website. There was no Plus plan, no subscription wall—just a clean interface waiting for his query. A wide grin spread across his face. This was it. The ultimate tool for the bootstrapping entrepreneur.
Of course, he knew from experience that AIs in general weren't always accurate. He even noticed the small fine print under the prompt bar where you input your question.
AI-Generated, For reference only.
…
The air inside the Electro Mart was cool and hummed with the sound of a hundred demo units. Fluorescent lights gleamed off pristine screens. He made a beeline for the laptop section, a kingdom of potential and processing power.
And then he froze.
There, standing before a display of high-end headphones, was Min-jun.
Their eyes met. A thick, awkward silence hung between them for a moment before Dong-seung managed a nod. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Min-jun replied, his expression slightly distraught as he quickly looked away, feigning intense interest in a pair of headphones.
Dong-seung's eyes flicked to the laptop Min-jun had been looking at moments before. It was a sleek, professional ultrabook with a price tag that made him wince. Of course, he thought. Still playing the part of the successful salaryman.
Shaking off the encounter, Dong-seung turned his attention to the "gaming" laptops. They were big, bold, and flashy, but his interest wasn't aesthetic. He'd spent the last hours grilling DeepSeek, pushing the chat to its context limit. The AI had consistently highlighted a few key models for demanding tasks like rendering and machine learning.
His eyes landed on the one that had crowned the "performance king" for his budget: the ASUS ROG Strix G18.
The specs were a siren's call: RTX 5080, Core Ultra 9, 32GB RAM. It was everything the chatbot said he needed. Then he saw the price: 5,599,999 WON. The air left his lungs. This single machine costs more than some cars.
The chatbot had been adamant about the Intel Core Ultra 9 series for raw processing power. And the RTX 5080... he knew the tiers. 5070, 5080, 5090. This was the second-best card you could get. It also had something called "ray tracing," which even DeepSeek had struggled to explain in simple terms. He had eventually just omitted that fact, deciding that if it was a feature of a top-tier card, it must be important.
A salesperson approached. Not with a pushy pitch, but with a calm, observant demeanor.
"We just set that unit up this morning. The screen really sells itself, doesn't it?" she said, her voice friendly.
She had long, lush brown hair and cute glasses that gave her a knowledgeable air. Her nametag read Ji-ah, Senior Sales, ASUSTeK.
ASUSTeK? he thought. Right, ROG is their gaming arm. So she's a brand specialist.
"You're looking at the powerhouse of the lineup," Ji-ah continued, correctly reading his focus. She didn't just list specs; she translated them. "The RTX card does something called ray tracing. Basically, it calculates how light should realistically bounce around a scene. For you, that means renders in Blender or video effects will look photorealistic, and it future-proofs you for any game."
He nodded, impressed. This was a cut above the usual "it's got a good graphics card" spiel. "The display is the 240Hz IPS one?" he asked.
"It is," she confirmed, tapping the screen to wake it up. She quickly navigated to a high-motion video. "See? No ghosting. Butter-smooth. For UI design, that smoothness reduces eye strain during long sessions. For gaming, it's a competitive edge."
That was it. She hadn't just sold him specs; she'd sold him time and comfort. She'd sold him a solution, just like he did with his Detangler.
"I'll take it," he said, his smile confident now.
"A wise investment," Ji-ah replied with a genuine smile of her own. "I'll get you a fresh unit from the back. The display models get handled all day."
She returned with the box—a heavy, matte-black thing that felt as premium as the laptop inside. He hefted the cardboard container, feeling the satisfying weight of his new primary weapon.
Now, he thought, let's see about Min-jun.
…
He found his former friend still in the headphone aisle, now carefully examining a pair of sleek, matte-finish headphones.
"These look nice," Dong-seung said, gesturing to the model in Min-jun's hands.
Min-jun looked up, and for the first time, his distraught expression softened into genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, this? It's a Bowers & Wilkins PX8. The build quality is incredible—carbon fiber arms and genuine Nappa leather." He spoke with the reverence of a scholar discussing a rare text. "They use custom 40mm carbon dome drivers. The sound signature is incredibly detailed, especially in the mids and highs. It's not for bass-heads, but for acoustic or classical… It's a revelation."
Dong-seung nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. This was the Min-jun he remembered. His personal genie of tech. The guy who didn't just know about computers but could tell you the latency difference between DDR5 RAM modules or debate the merits of different mechanical switch brands. It was this encyclopedic passion that had led him to major in Computer Science, aiming to become not just a user, but a creator of the technology he so loved.
"Looking to upgrade?" Dong-seung asked, keeping his tone neutral.
Min-jun's enthusiasm dimmed slightly, a shadow crossing his face as he glanced at the 1.5 million won price tag. "Just… browsing," he said, the word sounding hollow.
In that moment, Dong-seung didn't see a rival. He saw a reflection of his own recent past—the longing for quality tools just out of financial reach.
A decisive impulse took over. "Min-jun!" he said, grabbing his old friend's shoulder. "You're lucky today. I'm gifting you these."
Min-jun's head snapped up, his face a canvas of shock and disbelief. "R-Really?" he stammered, his grip tightening on the PX8 box.
"Yes," Dong-seung replied, his voice firm but kind. "Consider it a long-overdue peace offering."
"But… how?" Min-jun's gaze flickered from the expensive headphones in his hands to the massive ASUS box under Dong-seung's arm. "How did you… make so much money?"
"I built something people needed," Dong-seung said simply, not with arrogance, but with quiet pride. "A program to optimize websites. It sold better than I ever imagined. The old treadmill… I finally jumped off."
They called a representative over. By a striking coincidence, the woman who approached was the same ASUS rep, Ji-ah. Her name tag, he now noticed, also read Store Manager.
"Finding everything you need?" she asked with a professional smile.
"We're all set," Dong-seung said, placing the Bowers & Wilkins box on the counter next to his laptop.
Ji-ah personally escorted them to a dedicated checkout counter. The cashier scanned the items, and the astronomical total appeared on the PIN pad. Dong-seung pulled out his wallet and presented the matte Silver Card.
The cashier's smile became strained. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice dropping. "We don't accept American Express."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Dong-seung's face, but it was quickly replaced by a knowing smirk. He'd almost forgotten.
"It's a new partnership," he explained calmly, turning the card over in his fingers to show the pristine front. "It's both."
There, elegantly embossed next to the Centurion, was the familiar interlocking circles of a Mastercard logo.
The cashier looked utterly bewildered. Ji-ah, however, leaned in, her brow furrowed. "I... I need to confirm this," she said, her professionalism warring with sheer confusion. "One moment, please."
She retreated a few steps and pulled out her phone, dialing a corporate number. Dong-seung could faintly hear her side of the hushed conversation.
"Yes, I have a gentleman here with a card... Silver, Amex, but it has a Mastercard logo on the front... The number is..." She recited his card number, and after a pause, her posture straightened. "I see... Understood. Yes, of course. Thank you."
She returned, her entire demeanor transformed from polite to one of deep, almost cautious reverence.
"My sincerest apologies for the delay, sir," she said, giving a slight bow. "The transaction is fully approved. They advised me to ensure you have an exceptional experience." She gave the cashier a sharp, meaningful nod. "Run it as Mastercard. Immediately."
The payment terminal chimed its approval. The small crowd of employees who had been subtly watching now exchanged stunned glances. Min-jun looked from the card to Dong-seung's impassive face, completely lost.
[AMEX: Your Balance is -856,024.03 ₩]
After the transaction was complete, Ji-ah presented him with two crisp receipts and her business card, holding it with both hands. "It was a pleasure, sir. Please don't hesitate to contact me directly for anything."
…
The weight of the new laptop in one hand and the gift in the other felt like a tangible transfer of power. As they stepped away from the counter, Dong-seung turned to Min-jun, the words forming from a place of genuine intent, not pity.
"Look," he began, his tone straightforward. "Do you want to join me? I'm building a freelancing 'company'—it's not registered yet, but the work is real. I can give you a room and teach you the ropes, starting with JavaScript." He paused, a flicker of practicality crossing his face. "The only catch is I have a... partner... I need to consult first. But my uncle," he added with a wry grin, "couldn't care less if I invited a whole platoon."
The silence that followed was heavy. Min-jun stared at the ground, his shoulders slumping as the facade he'd so carefully maintained finally crumbled.
"Dong-seung..." he began, his voice thick with shame. "I have to admit something. I... I don't even work as a programmer. I lied. I've been working at a fast-food chain."
The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable.
Dong-seung's expression didn't change to judgment, but to a quiet understanding. He had seen that particular shade of shame in his own mirror for years.
"No worries," Dong-seung said, his voice softening. "Here, I'll send you a KakaoTalk." He pulled out his phone. "We can talk there. Once I sort things out on my end, we'll see about getting you to come by."
It wasn't a firm promise, but it was a lifeline—something far more valuable than the expensive headphones he now clutched in his hands.