A faint winter sun crept into the room, washing the old wallpaper in pale light. The heater rattled weakly, barely enough to warm the air. His mother was boiling rice porridge again—stretching it thin by adding more water than rice.
He watched her from the crib, silently.
She worked too hard.She slept too little.She worried too much.
And none of it was her fault.
This world punished the poor more than the guilty.
He refused to let that continue.
He gripped the crib railing and pulled himself up—slow, careful, testing balance. His legs trembled slightly but held. His mother turned just in time to see him standing.
"Oh! Already? You're really growing fast…"
She clapped gently, her smile brightening the entire room.
Other babies fell often.But he didn't.
Because every time he stood, he visualized weight distribution, posture, stability—the same way he once studied presentation stances in business seminars.
He released the railing.
One step.
Another.
He wobbled but didn't fall.
His mother gasped, covering her mouth.
"You… you're walking?!"
He took a third step—and then sat down gently, pretending exhaustion.
Not too perfect.Not too shocking.Just early enough to be called "smart."
His mother rushed over and hugged him tightly.
"You're amazing… Do you know that?" she whispered.
He pressed his head against her shoulder, absorbing the warmth he never had in his past life.
This warmth alone was enough to make him want to conquer the world.
Over the next few months, he began absorbing Korean like a sponge. Each sound, each tone, each word.
He didn't speak much aloud, but internally, he repeated everything:
가격… price.월세… monthly rent.일자리… job.부채… debt.성공… success.
And the most painful one:
가난… poverty.
Words he once feared became words he prepared to crush.
In the evenings, his mother watched a TV program to improve her English. The pronunciation was slow, exaggerated, made for beginners.
He listened silently.
"Hello.""How are you?""I am fine.""Nice to meet you."
Repetition.Understanding.Memory.
English would become his weapon later—in global markets, foreign stocks, international deals. And learning it now meant he would be years ahead of everyone.
In this life, language wouldn't limit him.Only the sky would.
One afternoon, his mother returned after visiting the small sewing shop. Her steps were heavier than usual. Her eyes avoided his.
She knelt beside him, forcing a smile.
"Baby… mama might have to work more now."
He stared at her, unblinking.
She swallowed.
"The sewing shop… they said they don't need part-timers anymore. They're cutting people."
There it was.
The first real blow of this life.
She had lost her main income.Rent was still due.
His mother's shoulders trembled as she tried to hold her composure.
"I'll find something else… I promise."
But he knew the reality of Korea in this era:
Job cuts.Low wages.High competition.Single mothers always treated last.Foreign connections even worse.And she had a mixed child—him.
The world wasn't kind to "different."
His baby fingers gently reached toward her sleeve, tugging it softly.
She looked down, eyes watery.
"You're my strength," she whispered.
No.
She was his strength.But he would become hers.
Later that week, he overheard two neighbors talking outside the apartment:
"Did you hear? Rent is increasing again next month.""Poor single mother in Room 302… how will she survive?""She should return to her country.""What about the kid?""Probably better off elsewhere."
He lay still on his mat, blood hot with anger he couldn't express.
People talked like poverty was a disease, like struggle was shameful, like single mothers were burdens.
Fine.Let them laugh for now.
One day, he would buy this entire building…And decide who paid rent.
One day, he would build towers taller than their gossip.Walls thicker than their judgement.
One day, they would look up to him with awe and fear.
But for now…he was a baby.
He could only listen.Plan.Prepare.
That evening, while his mother cooked, he crawled toward the fallen TV remote. He pressed buttons until a business news channel appeared—stock tickers scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
KOSPI.Dollar index.Interest rates.
His mother laughed softly.
"You like numbers, huh?"
If only she knew.
He stared at the screen, memorizing everything—even though he wouldn't be able to act on it for years.
But that was fine.
Seeds planted early grow into forests.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
His mother had placed him in the crib and sat by the window, staring out at the tiny alley, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She looked so small.
So alone.
So breakable.
He gripped the crib railing with renewed resolve.
"I will make you untouchable," he promised silently."I will make you proud.""And one day… I will make the world kneel."
The moonlight filtered across his determined baby face—Marking the first steps of a man who would one day reshape global markets.