'Six months had passed in the blink of an eye.
The heavens showed no mercy, and in the end, I was diagnosed with third-degree disability due to spinal cord damage and lower-body paralysis.
Fortunately, it qualified as a work-related injury, so I was receiving monthly disability compensation payments, with promises of a lump-sum disability pension down the line.
But the real problem was those insane American hospital bills.
After emergency surgery and two weeks of hospitalization, I returned to Korea—only to face a combined total of $250,000 in test fees, surgery costs, and room charges.
$250,000. Who in their right mind comes up with a number like that?
The day the bill arrived, I couldn't believe my eyes.
I rubbed them over and over, but the maddening '$250,000' stamped at the bottom refused to change.
Damn it! America really was a country where health paid the bills.
No wonder U.S. citizens flew to Korea for medical tourism!
'If there hadn't been insurance... God, what a nightmare.'
Thank goodness PD Kim Seung-hyun was competent enough to have gotten us that pricey group travel insurance. It covered 80% of the bill. Still, I had to shell out the remaining 20% from my own pocket.
Both parties—the perpetrator and the victim—were found partially at fault in the accident.
And 20% of $250,000? That's $50,000.
In Korean won, about 56 million.
Even after the 80% deduction, it was a chilling sum.
All the savings I'd scraped together from a year and a half of grueling work, plus six months of compensation, were wiped clean.
"So what're you gonna live on now? Heh heh."
My ball-sac buddy—who'd come to visit—cackled as he said it.
To be precise, he was a year older than me, like a big brother. We'd sworn eternal friendship as kids, and he still ranked in my top three best friends.
'He's not the type to spout crap like that carelessly.'
There had to be more to his attitude than just a crappy personality.
What kind of friend mocks a buddy who's become disabled?
He'd probably scouted some good work-from-home job I could handle from my wheelchair.
But my best friend, Kang Jin-gyu, just kept spewing harsh truths nonstop.
"I knew it the moment you said you were doing that documentary. Should've listened when your family tried to stop you. Tsk tsk."
"..."
"Why chase something that brutal? Sigh. It hurts this big bro's heart. Should've smacked some sense into you back then. A scrawny guy like you, doing a documentary? All that hardship wrecked your body and led to the accident. Listen, kid—you gotta stick to jobs that match your station in life. Can't just chase dreams forever. Compromise a bit. You like animals, right? Should've started with something easy like Animal Farm."
"...Before I kick you in the ass, shut it?"
No matter how close we were, I was starting to boil over just listening.
Is that what a friend says when he can't even offer real comfort?
He wasn't always this harsh...
Maybe two years of brutal corporate life had turned him into an old fogey.
And the accident? It was just that—an accident.
Pure force majeure.
But hearing Jin-gyu harp on about my frailty and offer unsolicited advice only made my chest ache with injustice.
"What're you gonna do, can't even use your legs? That's why you shouldn't touch anything dangerous again."
"...Is that really something to say? No one's letting me near risky jobs with this body anyway."
"Tch, whatever. Check this out."
Jin-gyu shoved a smartphone in my face.
"What's this?"
"Just look."
"...Silmaria?"
The screen showed footage of a game called Silmaria.
With epic BGM swelling, it looked like some kind of intro video.
"Oh, I know this one. Everyone's playing it, right?"
Silmaria—the world's first full-dive VR game from America's top developer, Tempest. With overwhelming market dominance, it was impossible not to know.
After introducing races and classes, the video cut to battle scenes.
Magic and arrows flew wildly amid rivers of blood.
Swords and spears clashed, lightning striking down.
War and heroes.
Raid parties and dungeons.
Standard RPG fare, nothing special.
"Graphics are killer."
The difference? They were indistinguishable from reality.
We shrugged off early AI robots as novelties, but VR graphics this lifelike? Science was a wonder.
"So what?"
I eyed Jin-gyu after the intro ended.
He wouldn't suggest gaming to a guy about to starve.
"Let's play this together."
"..."
His bold pitch left me staring blankly at the ceiling.
Brain damage messing with me post-accident?
I kept misreading him.
He didn't get my desperate need for stable income.
"Nah, pass."
I said it as flatly as possible.
"Hear me out. You love games. And you're good at 'em."
"No snake oil here."
"Argh, come on! Just listen."
Kang Jin-gyu raised his right hand like he was about to smack my head.
The guy was 185cm and 91kg.
Memories of being pinned by that pot-lid palm during a drunken brawl made me swallow my temper and listen.
"...Fine. Shoot."
"This game makes money. Even without being a top ranker or streamer, you can rake it in. It's been a year since launch, user base over 800 million, and whales dump cash like crazy. Just gold farming nets a solid income. Oh, game's gold: 1 gold = 100,000 won. Plus, in-game, you can move your legs freely for that satisfaction..."
Jin-gyu's spiel tortured me for the next 30 minutes.
Without Silmaria, my life was doomed.
"I'm going all-in on this. Convinced it'll out-earn any desk job."
Rich coming from the guy preaching compromise moments ago.
Mr. Big-Corp Swagger himself.
"...You just hate your job, huh?"
He winced.
"Can't deny it. That asshole Assistant Manager Moon... One more day as his dogsbody, and I'd snap. Tiny prick acts like he's god. Life's about going independent, man. Korea's hopeless anywhere else. Big corp? Same crap. They don't want talent—they want obedient slaves!"
Years of pent-up rage poured out.
'...Nailed it.'
He wanted out.
Made sense—he wasn't the type to take orders.
Especially from an incompetent boss.
But there was more.
"Look, Ha-yul. We're born to succeed, right? Gotta chase what you love, excel at it. I guarantee we'll crush in Silmaria. You haven't tried it, so you don't get it—it's insane. Hooks you instantly."
Enthusiasm is contagious, they say.
I mulled his pitch seriously.
"So, VR means I can walk again, farm gold, pick a high-earning crafting job for big bucks. Bonus: YouTube potential for ad revenue long-term?"
"Exactly! Start now, and you're not late. You were out in the wilds with cameras, so you missed it—this game's revolutionized the world in a year. With your skills, you'll level fast, snag gear, pile cash. Slowest when you think you're late."
"Hm? Isn't thinking you're late when it's actually too late?"
"...Not joking. Dead serious. I can make a revenue model spreadsheet. Ha-yul, let's flip our lives. Yeah?"
His eyes burned with resolve.
Couldn't brush off his get-rich gaming scheme now.
But every entrepreneur starts with success dreams—and certainty.
Reality? Most shops fold in months. Interior guys win.
Jin-gyu was sharp, entrepreneurial, but green.
Gold farming, crafting, YouTube? Red ocean anyone could enter.
Unlike him, I needed stable paychecks ASAP—not high-risk ventures.
He was fit as hell; I couldn't walk.
Different starting lines.
And Silmaria's cheapest VR rig? 5 million won. Service fee: 50,000 for three months, 150,000 yearly discounted.
I'd looked into it—craved walking in VR.
But begging parents for over 5 million? For a game?
Older gens saw gaming as frivolous; no way they'd get it.
To join, I needed a proven edge first.
"Look, thought it over. Can't right now..."
"I'll buy the VR rig."
"...Huh?"
As I started refusing, Jin-gyu fixed me with intense eyes.
Like lasers piercing my soul.
I saw unyielding ambition there.
'What a sucker play.'
Sometimes head says no, heart says go.
Like confessing to a crush despite rejection odds.
I wanted to leap.
Who knows?
Maybe she likes you back.
The rig was the real hook, though.
"Deal!"
I yelled before he could back out.
A thin smile crept across Jin-gyu's lips.
"Together, brother."
Clap.
Their hands clasped firmly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Son."
"...Yeah?"
"Good call."
Mom beamed at my plan to make money gaming.
Squeeze.
Her tiny hand gripped mine—rough and callused from years of sacrifice for me.
"Do whatever you want, my boy."
She looked me dead in the eye, voice soft.
"...M-Mom."
Mothers are incredible.
Tears welled up.
I never knew she believed in me this much...
I'll make you proud.
Earn big, treat you right!
Super cars, luxury bags by the pile!
Super car with bags in the seat, wallet stuffed inside—a full gift set!
Someday, no matter what...!
"But never do dangerous stuff again, you hear?!"
"...Huh?"
"Got it?!"
"Y-Yeah? Uh, yes."
Caught off-guard, I nodded dumbly in panic.
"Son."
"Y-Yeah?"
Still reeling from Mom's twist, Dad chimed in from the side.
"Listen to your mom. She's scary when mad."
His words flashed me back to "The Incident"—our family euphemism for that day. Sweet, demure Mom unleashing Conqueror's Haki on Dad's affair. Pure terror. Parents always win with kids, so she'd reluctantly okayed my overseas shoots. Now? Zero tolerance. I was the ungrateful son who'd hammered nails into their hearts.
"...Yeah!" Vowing never to get hurt again, I nodded vigorously.
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