The door closed with a sharp click as Min-Jae stepped into his house.
After the chaotic noise of school, the house welcomed him with heavy silence.
Neither his mother, still at work, nor his younger sister, who had been avoiding him, were home yet. The house stood empty, still and quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound lingering in the air.
His steps echoed softly against the floor as he moved deeper inside, passing the narrow hallway lined with plain walls before reaching his room. It was just as lifeless as the rest of the house — books stacked neatly, notebooks piled in order, loose papers scattered across the desk. Remove the bed and closet, and the room could easily pass for a cramped study corner.
Not bothering to change out of his dirty uniform, he threw himself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Was the day long? Or short? He couldn't tell. Too much had happened, and his thoughts kept circling back, replaying everything over and over again.
At one point, he slowly raised his hand. It still ached, dried blood clinging faintly to his skin.
Nothing unusual. Most days, he returned home like this.
But this time… it was different.
The blood on his hand wasn't his. And the pain running through it wasn't from being beaten… but from beating others.
He stared at his hand for a moment, and a faint smile crept onto his lips without him realizing it.
What kind of faces would they make tomorrow? How would they deal with what they had suddenly been dragged into?
The thought lingered briefly before fading.
Min-Jae pushed himself up from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Warm water ran over him as he washed away the dried blood and dirt, the faint sting across his knuckles lingering even as everything else disappeared down the drain.
When he finished and looked over his body again, he paused.
Faint scars from old injuries were still visible on his skin, but not a single fresh bruise remained. No swelling. No lingering pain anywhere on his body.
It wasn't the first time he had confirmed it, but even now, it still felt unreal.
His body… was completely healed.
Carrying that strange, quiet realization with him, Min-Jae moved into the kitchen, and took out the stored boxes of food.
Warm rice, kimchi, and a simple side dish — he placed them on the table before sitting down to eat.
There was no notebook in front of him this time. No pages to review, no notes to memorize. For once, Min-Jae allowed himself to relax while eating.
He had always pushed himself too hard, but today… he chose a different pace.
He ate in silence, the quiet sound of chewing the only thing filling the room, until he reached for the remote and turned on the television.
He flipped through channels absentmindedly until a familiar news segment caught his attention.
[Recently, global financial rankings were updated… and once again, one name has drawn significant attention here in Korea.]
[It's hard not to talk about her. Yoon Se-ryeong… thirty-five years old, and officially ranked tenth in the world.]
[And still the only Korean in the top ten.]
A young female announcer and an older male commentator sat across from each other on the screen, their voices filled with clear admiration. Min-Jae watched them for a moment before continuing to eat, leaving the channel on.
For something that once would have felt completely out of reach, almost unreal, he listened only half-heartedly.
[Not just that. She's the youngest among them. Everyone else on that list built their wealth over decades… she did it in, what, fifteen years?]
[Less, if we're being precise.]
[Right…]
The life and achievements of the woman called Yoon Se-ryeong were laid out one after another, each detail more impressive than the last: her rapid rise, her sharp business decisions, her influence stretching far beyond Korea.
In a country that worshiped wealth, rankings, numbers, and status, she had become something like a national drug — an obsession people never seemed to grow tired of.
[… she didn't inherit anything. No chaebol background, no political ties… nothing.]
[And yet she surpassed all of them.]
Comparisons ran in their blood, Min-Jae thought quietly as he chewed.
[Those who have worked closely with her often describe the same feeling…]
[That she isn't reacting to events…]
[But following a path she already knows.]
Mystifying. Exaggerating.
Min-Jae dismissed it without much thought as he finished his meal and stood up.
[Well… whatever that path is, it's taken her to the top ten in the world.]
[And number one in—]
He turned off the television before the sentence could finish and walked back to his room, the silence returning as naturally as it had been before.
But something remained.
A single thought, circling quietly in his mind.
I could take it all.
The wealth that this so-called legend had accumulated… if he wanted to, Min-Jae knew his Reality Manipulation could bring it within reach.
It might still be weak. Its limits still unclear.
But influencing one person… bending a decision… making someone give something up… that should be possible.
And if not her, then someone else.
A prosecutor. A powerful politician. A military general.
Or even… the president.
Wouldn't that be enough? Wouldn't that solve everything?
He stood there, the thought settling deeper, taking shape not as a fantasy — but as a possibility.
Because this wasn't imagination anymore.
It was a choice.