Night fell over Seoul.
A long line stretched outside the emergency room. Medical staff in protective suits moved through the crowd. Ambulance sirens kept blaring as stretchers rolled down the corridors, oxygen tanks clanging. The hallways were packed with masked patients—some coughing, others just staring at the floor.
Inside was worse. Nurses shouted into phones about bed shortages while family members peered through glass doors. The smell of disinfectant was thick enough to sting.
At the end of a corridor, a consultation room door stood open.
A doctor sat behind a desk, looking at medical records and shaking his head.
"Mr. Joe Yabuki."
The man sitting across from him looked up. He wore a mask, only his eyes visible. Those eyes were calm, but there was a faint weariness at the corners.
"Six years." The doctor said. "The fact that you can still maintain daily life is a miracle. Patients with Parkinsonism, especially those with Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy like yours, usually lose their ability to care for themselves much earlier."
Joe Yabuki said nothing.
The doctor sighed. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Yabuki. We've tried every viable treatment option. Your condition isn't drug-induced, and it's not a cranial pressure issue. The brain tissue damage is permanent."
"So there's nothing left to try." Joe's voice was flat.
"Yes." The doctor paused. "If it continues to deteriorate, you'll lose even more. Depth perception, reaction speed, hand control... all of these will continue to decline."
Joe stood up. "I understand."
"Mr. Yabuki—"
"Thank you, doctor."
He turned and walked out of the consultation room.
***
The corridor was long.
Joe Yabuki's steps were steady, but his right hand trembled slightly. He shoved it into his pocket, hiding the shaking.
Passing through the waiting area, a child stared at him. Joe ignored it and kept walking.
He walked out the hospital entrance. The night wind hit him, and his breathing grew heavy beneath the mask.
'My last hope is gone too.'
His savings were completely depleted. Six years of treatment costs had drained every cent he'd won from his championship days.
He walked along the street toward the bus stop.
On the wall beside the street, boxing magazine ads were posted. Some young fighter holding a championship belt, grinning brightly.
Joe's steps faltered.
He stared at that poster, his gaze lingering for a few seconds, then moved on.
'Not my world anymore.'
The bus arrived quickly. He boarded and found a window seat.
***
54-35 Munrae-dong 3-ga, Yeongdeungpo-gu.
A small restaurant with a sign that read "Don-ga." The storefront was old but clean. Through the glass window, you could see it was empty inside except for an elderly woman bustling behind the counter.
Joe Yabuki pushed open the door.
"Oh, it's young Joe." The old woman looked up and smiled. "How did the checkup go today?"
"Same as always." Joe sat down at a table by the window.
The old woman walked over and handed him a glass of water. "What would you like? Spicy stir-fried pork or noodles?"
"Stir-fried pork. With rice."
"Coming right up."
The old woman turned and headed into the kitchen. Joe sat there, staring at the glass of water on the table. His hands were still shaking, but he didn't bother with them.
Sounds of cooking came from the kitchen.
The restaurant door suddenly swung open.
A woman in a black suit walked in. Her features were sharp, her stride rhythmic. She scanned the restaurant, her gaze stopping on Joe for a second before she walked toward the counter.
The old woman came out carrying a plate, saw the woman, and paused. "Customer, what would you like to eat?"
The woman smiled. "I'm not here to eat."
She pulled out a business card from her bag and handed it over with both hands. "I'm Team Manager Yoo In-yeong from Smile Capital. We're a financial company that was recently government-certified for excellence, and I was wondering if you had some time for a quick chat."
The old woman took the card and looked at it. "Oh, alright."
Joe set down his chopsticks.
His hand stopped mid-air, his gaze shifting toward the counter.
Yoo In-yeong smiled. "Your business hasn't been doing well lately, has it?"
The old woman sighed. "No, it hasn't."
"You owe the bank 30 million won, correct?"
"Yes."
"If you just sign here, we'll pay off that debt today. And our interest rate is only 5%, much lower than the bank's 7%."
Joe stood up and walked toward them.
"Doesn't that leave you without any actual profit?"
Yoo In-yeong looked up, scanning him from head to toe. "That's true, sir. But may I ask who you are?"
Joe pulled out a chair and sat down. "Just curious. Continue."
Yoo In-yeong hesitated, then turned back to the old woman. "You see, uh, the government has started helping small business owners struggling because of the pandemic. We received support funding, which allows us to lower our interest rates even more than other companies."
The old woman listened carefully but clearly didn't fully understand. She turned to look at Joe.
Joe smiled slightly. "A 2% difference in interest is actually quite significant, isn't it?"
Yoo In-yeong nodded. "Of course. In times like these, just staying afloat is winning."
She pulled out a document from her bag, intending to hand it to the old woman, but hesitated and passed it to Joe instead.
Debt Repayment and New Contract Agreement.
Joe took the document and flipped through it page by page.
Yoo In-yeong's smile stiffened. She took a deep breath. "We know the pandemic will pass soon. But we want to help you as much as possible so you can keep your business. This benefits us too, but it's really better for you."
Joe ignored her, continuing to read the contract.
After a while, he set the document down and sighed.
"Thank you for your offer, but we're not interested."
Yoo In-yeong froze. She turned to the old woman. "Ma'am, this is an opportunity you can't pass up. What is this gentleman to you?"
She already knew the answer. Before selecting clients, they always did background checks. According to their information, the old woman had no relatives—her son had died years ago.
The old woman opened her mouth but couldn't speak. Joe was just a customer, after all.
But seeing Joe's firm eyes, she decided to trust him.
"He... is my son's friend. I trust him."
Joe's eyes widened slightly.
He hadn't expected the old woman to say that. After all, Yoo In-yeong's offer sounded very attractive. But he'd already spotted several fatal traps in the contract.
Yoo In-yeong sighed and turned to Joe. "Sir, could you tell me why? Is there something wrong with the contract?"
Joe turned the document around and pushed it toward her. "Only someone crazy would sign this contract. In exchange for a lowered interest rate, the client has to pay an extension fee equal to 10% of the principal within 24 hours of signing."
Silence filled the restaurant.
Yoo In-yeong's expression changed.
She hadn't expected this ordinary-looking man to find that hidden clause. Indeed, if clients actually had to pay 10% of the principal, no one would sign this contract. But that was exactly Smile Capital's scam. They weren't some government-certified financial company—they were loan sharks. Recently their boss needed a large sum of money fast, so he'd come up with this scheme specifically targeting small business owners who didn't understand legal documents.
Her plan had been exposed.
Yoo In-yeong immediately stood up. "Are you a lawyer?"
Joe didn't stand, just shook his head. "No. I'm just a nobody."
Yoo In-yeong relaxed.
If Joe were a lawyer, things would be troublesome. But since he wasn't, this was easy to handle.
She pulled out her phone and made a call. "Send the guys in. There's a nuisance to be taken care of inside."
Less than a minute after she hung up, two black sedans pulled up outside the restaurant.
The car doors opened and thugs filed out. At least eight of them, holding baseball bats and knives.
The old woman shot to her feet.
Joe stood up too, his hands trembling.