The next morning, I woke up in a perfectly calm state—no crushing hangover, no anxiety that made my blood run cold.
It felt almost unbelievable that the hellish days that had weighed me down just recently were already a thing of the past.
The morning sunlight seeping in through the window felt unusually warm.
It was as if the heavy stone that had been pressing down on my shoulders had vanished.
For the first time in years, I woke up not to the sound of an alarm—but to sunlight.
I got out of bed and stretched deeply.
This thirty-one-year-old body felt light, free of any lingering fatigue.
Last night, I'd slept the sweetest sleep of my life.
Not because of the thrill of sudden wealth—
but because of the relief that everything was finally over, and the hope that I could begin again from scratch.
I no longer needed to cling to past failures.
Nor did I need to fear an uncertain future.
With my own hands, I had seized the directional pad of my fate.
With a reverent heart, I sat in front of the computer and launched the HTS.
After logging in, I checked my account balance.
[Cash Balance: 16,428,000 won]
It was the same number as yesterday, but today it carried far more weight—far more reality.
Without realizing it, I refreshed the number several times with my mouse cursor.
It didn't change.
It wasn't a dream.
This was no longer an evaluation figure.
This was real money—money I could withdraw and use anytime I wanted, condensed from my blood, sweat, and eighteen years of memories.
I closed the HTS window and opened Internet Explorer.
Then I typed two words into the search bar.
Real estate.
There was no longer any reason for me to stay in this cramped studio.
Moldy wallpaper. A creaking bed. An old refrigerator that buzzed all night long.
The pile of laundry in the corner gave off a musty smell, and the window—untouched for ages—had turned cloudy.
This space, a symbol of poverty and failure, and I needed to part ways.
Real estate websites in 2007 were crude and clunky.
I entered the site that seemed to have the most listings and began searching for studio apartments and officetels near my neighborhood.
Deposit: 10 million won.
Monthly rent: 500,000 won.
That was the going rate at the time.
Eighteen years ago, I didn't even have a 10-million-won deposit—so I'd been forced to bounce between semi-basement units with a 2-million deposit and 300,000 won rent.
But I was different now.
Without hesitation, I set the filter to "Deposit: 10 million won or more."
Dozens of listings filled the screen.
Clean, newly built officetels.
Fully furnished studio apartments near subway stations.
I examined each photo carefully, imagining the new place I would live.
A wide window flooded with sunlight.
A separate kitchen where I could cook without worrying about smells.
And… a modern refrigerator that wouldn't torment me all night.
This wasn't just a move.
It was a sacred ritual—shedding my past self and being reborn as someone new.
I wrote down the contact numbers of several officetels that caught my eye.
This afternoon, I would go see my new beginning with my own eyes.
I called the first real estate agency listed in my notebook.
A middle-aged broker's voice came through the receiver.
"Yes, this is Happy Real Estate."
"Hello. I'm calling after seeing an online listing. Is the monthly rental officetel called Dream Tower near Sillim Station still available?"
"Ah, Dream Tower? Yes, yes—it's available. A very good listing. Just came out, fresh off the press."
His voice instantly grew livelier.
"The deposit is 10 million with 500,000 won rent, right? Is there any room to negotiate the deposit?"
Eighteen years ago, I would've asked that without hesitation.
To shave off even one million won.
But now, I didn't need to.
Instead, I made an offer he hadn't expected.
"No. I'll keep the deposit as is—could we reduce the monthly rent instead?"
"…Pardon? The rent?"
He sounded momentarily flustered.
Raising the deposit to lower rent was common—but the reverse wasn't.
"Yes. I have some cash flexibility."
"Ah… I see! Yes, yes—if we talk it over with the owner, cutting 20–30 thousand won off the rent should be very doable!"
The moment I said cash flexibility, his tone changed completely.
It seemed I'd been upgraded—from a broke young guy to a client with money.
"Can I see the place right now?"
"Of course, sir! Anytime! Where should I pick you up?"
After setting the appointment, I quickly left the house.
Thirty minutes later, I arrived in front of Dream Tower, riding in the broker's old car.
A clean, newly built building—less than a year old.
There was a security guard stationed on the first floor, and the hallway was spotless.
"This way, sir."
The broker bowed repeatedly as he led me to a unit on the twelfth floor.
Beep—click.
The door lock opened.
And the moment the door swung open—
"Wow…"
Bright sunlight poured in through a full-length glass window.
A warmth I had never once felt in my old semi-basement room.
The place was bigger than I expected.
More than enough for one person.
Along one wall, a built-in wardrobe, refrigerator, and washing machine were neatly installed.
I stepped barefoot onto the glossy wooden floor.
The sensation was nothing like the damp, icy linoleum of my old place.
I walked to the window and looked down.
The view of Sillim from the twelfth floor was an entirely different world from the one I knew.
I was no longer underground, in darkness and moisture.
I was above the world—looking down at it.
"How is it, sir? Great view, right? It's south-facing, so it gets lots of sun—warm in winter, cool in summer."
The broker kept chattering excitedly beside me, but I couldn't hear a word.
I was overwhelmed by the fact that all of this could be mine.
I turned to him and said,
"Let's sign the contract. Right now."
#003
At my firm declaration, the broker's eyes widened.
He looked like he'd just won the lottery.
"R-right now, sir?"
"Yes. No need to see anything else. I like this place."
"Ah, as expected of someone who knows quality! An excellent choice! You'll never regret it!"
He fussed so much it felt like he might lift me up and carry me.
We headed straight to his office.
Happy Real Estate.
The name felt perfectly chosen.
Because right now, I was genuinely happy.
Inside the office, he brewed instant coffee, showered me with flattery, and catered to my every mood.
I calmly reviewed the lease contract.
Eighteen years.
I'd reviewed countless contracts in that time.
That experience hadn't gone anywhere.
I precisely pointed out several toxic clauses that an average thirty-one-year-old would've overlooked.
"Sir, this clause under special conditions—'The landlord bears no responsibility for repairs of major facilities'—is problematic. Under civil law, the landlord's duty to maintain and repair is mandatory. This clause wouldn't be legally valid and could cause disputes later. It would be better to remove it."
At my sharp observation, confusion flickered across the broker's face.
He'd clearly assumed I was just another clueless young guy.
"Ah… y-yes! Of course, sir! My mistake—I didn't catch that. You really are meticulous!"
He hurriedly revised the contract.
I signed, then went straight to a nearby bank with him.
Standing in front of the ATM, I transferred the 10-million-won deposit, first month's rent, and brokerage fee—all at once, without hesitation.
The moment the deposit confirmation text arrived on his phone, his mouth fell open.
He'd probably never seen a young man move over ten million won so casually, in a matter of minutes.
"Sir… that's truly impressive."
His voice now held genuine reverence—beyond mere flattery.
"For anything real-estate related from now on, please contact only me! I'll stake my life on finding you the best listings!"
I accepted his business card and smiled lightly.
As I stepped outside, the sun was already sinking.
I looked down at the envelope holding the contract.
It was only a few sheets of paper—but it felt unimaginably heavy.
This wasn't just a housing contract.
It was proof that I'd completely severed ties with the old Park Cheolmin and been reborn as a new one.
I was no longer a semi-basement loser.
I didn't return directly to my old semi-basement room.
Instead, I stepped out onto the main road and flagged down a taxi.
"Lotte Department Store, Gwanak branch, please."
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, then turned the wheel without a word.
A new home needed new things.
I didn't want to drag the worn remnants of my past into my new beginning.
As I entered the department store, cool air-conditioning, subtle perfume, and a refined atmosphere greeted me.
I headed straight to the electronics section on the seventh floor.
"Sir, what kind of product are you looking for?"
An employee approached politely.
Eighteen years ago, I would've answered,
"The cheapest one."
And then spent over an hour scouring price-comparison sites to save even ten thousand won.
But now, I replied without hesitation,
"Show me the best computer you have."
The employee's eyes lit up.
He excitedly recommended a top-of-the-line PC for the time, equipped with a dual-core CPU and the latest graphics card.
The price exceeded 1.5 million won.
An amount equivalent to my monthly salary at thirty-one.
"I'll take it. And give me the biggest, best monitor to go with it."
I pulled out my card and paid in one swipe.
Watching the employee's expression as he accepted my card gave me a strange, unfamiliar thrill.
Eighteen years ago, I would've agonized for a month over a 150,000-won graphics card—then gone hunting for a used one.
But now, I chose the best without hesitation.
This was the freedom money gave.
The employee bowed nearly ninety degrees.
"Thank you very much, sir!"
Next was the TV section.
I thought of the bulky old CRT TV in my old place.
I chose a 32-inch PDP TV—one that had been especially popular with newlyweds at the time.
Then I headed to the bedding section and ordered a high-end mattress that would support my back properly, along with a hotel-style bedding set.
Everything would be delivered to my new officetel.
By the time I finished shopping, several million won had disappeared from my account.
But I didn't feel the slightest bit of regret.
This wasn't simple consumption.
It was a gift to myself—to completely sever ties with the poor version of me.
When everything was done, I headed one last time to my old home—the semi-basement room.
As I opened the door, the familiar smell of mold and damp air greeted me.
Without turning on the lights, I looked around in the darkness.
The creaking bed.
The stained wallpaper.
The old desk.
All of it bore witness to my failed past.
I no longer belonged here.
Quietly, I turned around and closed the door.
Goodbye, past me.
And with that, I bid my old home a final farewell.