He skillfully performed his 20th curl, completing his third set. The familiar burn spread through his biceps. Next were butterflies, isolating the chest, and finally, the deep, satisfying drive of the leg press.
I can thank my uncle for this gym, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. The man himself had a bit of a belly, but he was deceptively, rawly strong. Dong-seung had once seen him single-handedly lift a Miele washing machine into a truck—a unit that had to weigh at least 80 kilograms. His uncle could have been a strongman.
When Dong-seung had asked about the home gym, his uncle had simply grunted, "A man truly becomes one when he grows some muscle."
Dong-seung hadn't agreed then, and he didn't agree now. In this day and age, who needs strong muscles? Where is the saber-toothed tiger? Where is the mammoth that will stomp you to death if you aren't in a strong group?
His sets continued, his mind working as hard as his body. Muscles were a functional tool, he reasoned, essential for laborers, mechanics, and soldiers. But for everyone else? This modern world was a testament to engineering, a cage of convenience designed to make physical strength obsolete.
Freight elevators carried what men once would have killed their backs to lift. Escalators conquered slopes that would have left our ancestors gasping. He'd even read about escalators in China that scaled entire mountains. They were safe, efficient, and required no effort at all.
And what about the food? The thought intruded as he moved between machines. Our food is processed. I'm not innocent either. But the stuff people ate was literally nothing a human body was designed to consume.
It was packed with additives—some with chemical names that sounded benign, and others you'd question if you knew their true origin. But no one bothered anymore. Just like me, he admitted. We're all complicit. I guess ignorance exists on many layers.
He sat at the leg press, his hands gripping the handles. This was the real reason for obesity, he concluded—not just a lack of discipline, but the total, systemic removal of the incentive to be strong.
The world, in its engineered comfort, no longer punished you for being weak. It just made you soft, then sold you a solution—a business model not so different from his own.
After the workout, he decided to do some coding.
…
"Fucking hell."
He'd scoured the logs. The crashes weren't from internal flaws but external chaos. One client had tried to process a medium-sized website while simultaneously running a video encoder, overloading his system.
"Aghhh." He ran a hand through his hair. "Time for some bugfixes."
But this was more than a patch. It was time for a true V3. The second iteration had been a minor upgrade—a V1.5 in spirit—but he'd chosen the more impressive version number for marketing. Now, he would build a JavaScript engine from the ground up.
He dove in, creating the core logic, weaving in redundancy, and scouring online guides and Stack Overflow for optimization tricks. The process was meticulous, far more involved than his C++ backend work. Finally, he fused the new engine with his existing system.
For quality control, he unleashed it on the former client's notoriously problematic website. Then, he consulted his most reliable subordinate.
> HYUNG. Analyze these two outputs. Compare performance, efficiency, and error rate.
The AI's verdict came back: 98% accuracy. Not perfect, but a monumental leap. He could live with that, protected by a simple disclaimer: Please consult a developer to verify automated fixes.
The final touches were pure efficiency. He reused UI assets from his old ZIP file, fixed a few misaligned elements and visual glitches, and uploaded the new build to Gumroad and his newly public GitHub.
Of course, he first set the price to ₩100,000.
[Practical Grind Reward]
[JavaScript Mastery, EXP (300/2500), LVL 2]
[C++ Mastery, EXP (300/500), LVL 1]
…
Three hours passed, spent deep-diving into JavaScript optimization videos. A final, compulsive check of his Gumroad pipeline was just a formality.
He clicked the dashboard link.
"What in the heavens!"
Dashboard Overview:
Product: Website-Detangler
Total Sales: 3079
Total Revenue: 222,938,000 ₩
Support the Developer Donations: 8,385,000 ₩
His product hadn't just sold; it had detonated. It had rocketed to the #1 spot. He hadn't just created an S-class product; he had created a new category.
BRRRRR
Here comes the money.
[Shinhan Bank: Your Balance is 178,958,000 ₩]
The first order of business, the one piece of lingering friction in his new reality, was crystal clear. He immediately initiated a transfer.
[AMEX: Your Balance is 0.00 ₩]
[Shinhan Bank: Your Balance is 156,202,027 ₩]
The zero on the Amex balance was more satisfying than any sales number. He was debt-free.
"Seo-yeon!" he called out, a rare edge of pure triumph in his voice. "I've got serious money now!"
She darted into the room. "My god. That's a huge amount." Her eyes scanned the screen, doing a quick mental calculation. "In USD, that's over 110,000 dollars."
"How do you know that, Seo-yeon?"
"Ah, I'm good at math. Haha." She waved a dismissive hand.
He was too euphoric to probe the oddly specific conversion. Another thought surfaced: his student loan. The final anchor from his old life. He could pay it off. But that would require a visit to his dreaded former university.
Should I just postpone it?
Nah. Let's be real. If I always procrastinate, I'll dig a deeper ditch. Counterproductive. Let's do it now.
"I'm going to the university," he announced.
Silence.
Seo-yeon looked him deep in the eyes, then pointed a single, commanding finger skyward. "Don't you do anything bad, you understand? I'm currently busy; I have to stream or I'll lose fans."
Ah. She streams, too? So that was why the internet sometimes lagged. He had a 250 Mbps plan, but she somehow siphoned all the bandwidth. Did she game? Download massive AAA titles? Another variable to optimize. Maybe a new router, or a business-grade plan.
"I promise. I won't fool around," he said, grabbing his Genesis keys.
…
The ride was unnervingly smooth and quiet, a testament to the 2019 Genesis GV80's engineering. Its 2.5L turbocharged engine delivered a seamless 300 horsepower through an 8-speed automatic transmission. He knew how to drive a manual—his uncle swore by them, driving by pure, unthinking instinct—but in the city, that was a pain in the ass he was happy to avoid.
A sudden, violent flash of red. The sedan in front of him slammed on its brakes for no reason at all.
Instinct took over. "You dickhead!" Dong-seung yelled, his heart hammering against his ribs. A frantic mirror check—clear—and he swerved sharply into the right lane. The Genesis responded not with a skid, but with a stable, confident glide, the advanced stability control keeping him planted. He gasped, the adrenaline a sharp, metallic taste in his mouth.
As he accelerated past the offending car, the reason for the insanity became clear. The driver wasn't just distracted; he was leaning back, taking a long hit from a bong, his hands completely off the wheel. Is he… driving with his knees?
His eyes then caught the car's interior—the absence of a traditional dashboard, the sleek, minimalist screen. A Tesla. The pieces clicked into place. The guy wasn't just a reckless stoner; he was a reckless stoner with overconfidence in his car's "Full Self-Driving" mode. He'd heard the stories, but seeing the blatant disregard for safety firsthand was a different kind of data point.
The shock of the near-collision began to cool, hardening into a cold, clear realization in his mind. My general knowledge is lacking. I need to account for these new variables. The world was a system of interconnected technologies and human behaviors, and he'd just identified a critical gap in his own dataset.
A darker, more philosophical thought followed. This is the new divide, he mused, his grip tightening on the wheel. Not between the rich and poor, but between those who understand the systems they depend on and those who are just along for the ride. This driver was passively ceding control, while his uncle would actively fight it. Both were dangerous in their own ways.
The reasons were a tangled mess of culture and complacency—a problem complex enough that he could easily write an essay on it. He'd always liked philosophy, after all. It was just another system to debug.
…
He guided the Genesis into the parking lot, slotting it into place with a perfect reverse park. He always preferred it this way. While the car's 360-degree camera and sensors could theoretically guide him out of a head-in spot, that data stream wasn't flawless.
Pulling out forward meant placing his trust in a system that could be blinded by a sudden reflection, a low sun angle glinting off the lens, or a sensor obscured by a speck of dirt. More critically, it relied on the assumption that no pedestrian, shopping cart, or speeding car would suddenly enter the camera's narrow field of view from the sides at the last second.
Backing in was a controlled, deliberate action. Reversing out was a reactive gamble. The thick C-pillars only compounded the risk, creating blind spots that no camera could completely erase from his own instinctual need to physically see.
This was nothing. He'd once successfully parked a gigaliner for his uncle—a rigid truck with a cargo bay mounted directly on its frame, connected via a dolly to a full-sized semi-trailer. It was an articulated behemoth, a puzzle of pivoting axles and precise angles that demanded an entirely different level of spatial reasoning. Maybe in a previous life he'd been a trucker or bus driver. They were the true masters of judging space and momentum.
THUD.
The solid sound of the Genesis's door closing felt like a full stop on his past. He walked toward the administrative building, the path familiar and laden with old ghosts.
"Dong-seung?"
He turned. Across the parking lot stood Young-Mi, his former girlfriend. The one who had used him during their second semester as a "prestige shield"—a human trophy to ward off other boys and impress her friends. It was all in the past now; he felt no grudge, only a distant pity.
"Young-Mi? How are you doing?" he said, scratching the back of his head out of old habit.
She hurried over, clasping her hands behind her back. "Oppa? Why are you driving that?" Her eyes flicked to the Genesis with a mix of suspicion and greed. "I thought you were broke."
Seo-yeon's warning echoed in his mind. Don't you do anything bad? The safest path was a bland, corporate lie.
"I work as a programmer now. At a big firm."
"Ohhh… Good for you." Her smile was sharp, calculating. "Say, Oppa… are you still interested in reestablishing our relationship?"
He didn't need to think. The projected return on investment was catastrophically negative.
"Sorry," he said, his tone and expression perfectly calm. "I have a girlfriend."
"Umph." She scoffed, her pretty face twisting in displeasure.
"I have to do something now!" he said, locking the car with a definitive chirp from the remote. He walked away without a backward glance.
This guy! Young-Mi fumed internally. He thinks he can treat me like this? My sugar daddy just left me, and my father won't give me a cent! A venomous idea sparked. She pulled out her phone.
"Daddy? Can you investigate someone for me? He's driving a Genesis, but he was a pauper. He's probably a fraud!"
…
Inside the office, a secretary looked up. "Hello, Dong-seung. Is your uncle fine?"
"Yes. He's fine." He got straight to the point. "I want to pay off my debt."
She slid the payment terminal across the desk. "Just pay."
He tapped his Amex. The secretary gave the silver card a fleeting, uninterested glance. The transaction was complete in a second.
"Alright, it's paid off! Keep working hard, Dong-seung!"
BRRRRR
[Shinhan Bank: Your Balance is 116,202,027 ₩]
₩40,000,000. Gone. A quest from a previous life, cleared. There was no fanfare, no reward, and he found he didn't care. He was debt-free. He didn't even want to check his credit score. The only thing that mattered was the zero. The balance was settled.
…
Before boarding his vehicle, a new subroutine booted up in his mind: Security Check.
He'd read the horror stories—stalkers hiding AirTags in wheel wells, jealous exes planting GPS trackers. His complex had no security guard; his primary defense was anonymity. That was a variable he couldn't afford to compromise.
Methodically, he circled the Genesis. His eyes scanned the wheel wells, the undercarriage, and the magnetic crevices where a small device could be hidden. He gave each of the four tires a firm kick, a crude but effective check for a sudden pressure loss that might indicate a tampered valve stem.
Nothing. No unfamiliar magnetic pings, no blinking lights, no hiss of air.
Clear.
Satisfied, he slid into the driver's seat. The new priority was to create distance. He started the engine, the quiet purr a signal to move. The goal was simple: get back to the fortress before the unpredictable variable of his past could decide to follow him home.
…
Author's Note: A Milestone & A Thank You
I'm incredibly happy to have reached the 11th chapter of this story with you all. Thank you for being here.
A quick note on the schedule: I'll do my best to continue updating regularly. My goal is at least 2 chapters per week, and I'll push for more whenever possible. The reason for this is health-related. I've pushed myself hard, often racking my brain late into the night with the "help" of one too many energy drinks. A sustainable pace is crucial for me to keep delivering a story I'm proud of.
The motivation for this novel came from a gap I noticed. I love reading system and progression stories, but I rarely found any that featured programming in a meaningful way, and few were set in South Korea. Since I enjoy manhwa and the unique vibe of Seoul, I thought, "Why not create my own?"
This story is actually my second attempt. My original idea was a fantasy system about fielding a modern military (inspired by a certain series with zombies, wink). But I hit a wall with it, which led me to channel my energy into this business/programming novel instead.
A quick heads-up for the road ahead: I've added the harem tag. However, expect a focused, character-driven approach—likely centered on two female leads. This won't be a sprawling manhua-style parade. As for faceslapping? It might happen, but only in very specific and (hopefully) satisfying doses.
Finally, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has read this far. If you have a moment to leave a rating or a comment, it would mean the world to me. Your feedback is the best compass I have for this journey.
Thank you for your support and understanding.
— Benjamin S.