“Oh?”
So they hadn’t spoiled their son rotten after all.
With keen interest, I watched the woman I had once admired so deeply.
“You already wrecked two Benzes, and now you've caused another accident.”
“...I'm sorry.”
“And a repeat DUI offense? There are limits to how much disgrace you can bring to my name.”
Jo Haneul couldn't even move.
He simply stood there, apologizing to his mother.
But she didn't budge an inch.
“I've already spoken with your mother. You're handling this one on your own.”
“What? Father!”
“And I've already told Hayoung not to give you a single won. Don't even think about begging your sister for money.”
Professor Jo Hoyoung was just as merciless.
“Father, then—no, wait. How much have you heard? If you don't help me, I might actually go to prison.”
“That would probably be for the best.”
Director Choi Eunhee actually laughed.
“A drunk-driving case means insurance won't cover anything, right? Take a leave of absence, serve your sentence, and pay off your debts when you get out. Sounds simple enough.”
“M-Mother!”
Jo Haneul trembled helplessly.
For a long while, he couldn't even form a proper sentence.
When he finally managed to speak, it was only this:
“But I have to graduate. You're the one who insisted I go to school.”
“None of that matters anymore. I'll pretend I never had a son. Pay everything back yourself, and whether you finish one more semester or quit entirely is your choice.”
With those words, Director Choi got into the car.
It seemed she had come solely to deliver that message.
The couple drove away without another glance.
“Ah...”
Jo Haneul stared blankly at the departing vehicle.
“Let's go.”
Leaving him behind, Seoyeong and I exited the parking lot.
Hwang Sanghoon hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should comfort his friend.
In the end, he gave up and climbed into his own car.
Abandoned by the very family he had always boasted about, Jo Haneul remained standing there alone for a long time.
A few days later, the graduation exam results were released.
I ranked first by a considerable margin—not only over Jo Haneul, but over Hwang Sanghoon as well.
“You'll be receiving the valedictorian medal, so make sure you attend the graduation ceremony.”
The official grade review period was still far away, but even the department chair quietly let me know in advance.
“Wow. You're seriously relentless.”
“She actually did it.”
Class President Seong Ji-eun and Hwang Seoyeong both gave me thumbs-ups.
Having watched me study from up close, they looked genuinely impressed.
Their own grades had improved dramatically compared to the previous semester.
“Just trust me for the national licensing exam too.”
“Eh? I studied so hard for the graduation exam that I feel like I can coast through the licensing exam now—”
“Absolutely not. Every exam deserves your full effort. You should always aim for a perfect score!”
The national medical licensing exam in January only required a passing grade.
Still, why waste such a perfect opportunity to cram a mountain of modern medical knowledge into my head?
I didn't let go of my books for a single day until the exam itself.
Time passed.
Naturally, I passed the licensing exam with ease.
And before long, graduation arrived.
For a university graduation ceremony, attendance was surprisingly high.
One person, however, was conspicuously absent.
Jo Haneul.
I'd heard through the grapevine that he and Hwang Sanghoon had gotten into a massive fight, after which he shut himself away and even failed the licensing exam.
Could that really be true?
“Congratulations on graduating first in the class.”
Out of nowhere, Hwang Sanghoon greeted me as though we were close friends.
“Uh... thanks. Congratulations to you too.”
He had narrowly missed standing on stage to receive the gold medal and commemorative plaque.
Yet there wasn't the slightest trace of disappointment on his face.
I considered asking about Jo Haneul.
Then I decided against it.
It wasn't any of my business anymore.
“I thought we'd end up working together. It's a shame.”
Oddly enough, that was what he seemed hung up on.
Honestly, wasn't avoiding the nightmare scenario of becoming Jo Haneul's coworker a good thing regardless of me?
In the end, Hwang Sanghoon became the only member of our class to secure an internship at our university hospital.
His medical license had already been issued, and he had begun training and working.
The more exhausted and haggard he looked, the more convinced I became that I had made the right choice.
“I already told you before. I'm not doing it.”
Professor Lee Minseok had visited me personally.
He'd listed every advantage imaginable and urged me to reconsider.
It hadn't worked.
“So what's your plan now?”
“Rest. For a while.”
Seoyeong had also tried recruiting me to join Hwangje Oriental Medicine Hospital with her.
I'd turned that down too.
My mind had been made up a long time ago.
I was going to do absolutely nothing.
More diligently than anyone else, I would devote myself to doing nothing.
After all, thanks to certain people, I'd already studied far more than enough.
“Okay... but if you ever need help finding a job or scouting locations for a clinic, call me.”
Huh?
Was he secretly a real-estate expert or something?
I nodded vaguely.
Not that I'd ever need to contact him.
After opening and closing his mouth several times, Hwang Sanghoon finally gave up.
Kim Mingyu and Lee Cheoljin dragged him outside.
As for me, I took photos with Seoyeong and several classmates I'd grown close to.
Then we attended the after-party.
Perhaps because of her outgoing personality, Ji-eun had already secured a job and would begin working as soon as her license was issued.
Most of my classmates were either preparing for employment or planning overseas vacations.
Unlike them, my entire plan consisted of having no plan.
The only thing I'd done was sign a lease for a tiny apartment.
I needed somewhere to live once I got kicked out of the dormitory.
“Ah... freedom at last.”
As I left the campus I'd grown surprisingly attached to, I threw my arms wide and celebrated my liberation.
Now it was finally time to enjoy life.
“Ahhh, my stamina bar's full. Time to grind the event.”
My morning routine was simple:
Mobile games.
I ordered delivery, set a few auto-battles running, and by the time the food arrived, I'd already completed several daily quests.
While eating breakfast, I finished the rest.
And after that?
Naturally, it was time for PC games.
Mobile games were only the side dish.
How long would I play?
Until I got sleepy.
The next day followed the exact same schedule.
“Ugh! Why does enhancement never succeed on the first try?!”
Day after day passed identically.
“Finally! An SSR! Wow... I actually got one before hitting pity for once!”
And somehow, April arrived.
“Ughhh...”
“Seoyeong! You worked hard! Want me to massage your shoulders?”
“Thanks...”
The friend who had been buried under work while adapting to life at Hwangje Oriental Medicine Hospital finally came to visit.
“You've really been living like this the whole time?”
Seoyeong stared at my dual-monitor setup.
One screen displayed NewTube.
The other had two games running simultaneously.
“Pretty much.”
“Lucky you. Maybe I should've taken time off too...”
“Stay strong. Fighting!”
The more miserable she looked, the more convinced I became that I'd chosen correctly.
Except for eating, sleeping, and basic household chores, I spent every waking hour in cyberspace.
“This can't be real. That story is one hundred percent staged.”
Sometimes I got emotionally invested in ridiculous NewTube stories.
“Maybe I should travel somewhere.”
Other times I explored the world through travel videos.
Then May arrived.
“Travel... definitely not China. Japan... what if another incident like that happens? Europe and America are too expensive.”
Staying home felt stifling.
Yet I couldn't quite bring myself to go anywhere.
I did take one domestic trip to Gangwon Province.
But even there, scrolling on my phone proved more entertaining than breathing fresh mountain air and practicing cultivation exercises.
“Yeowon.”
One day, Seoyeong spoke with unusual seriousness.
“Are you really not going to get a job?”
“Hm?”
“I found a position in Yongin. The commute looks manageable. Why don't you try submitting a résumé?”
She had even searched job boards herself and found an opening for an associate director position.
“Hmm...”
Only then did I begin seriously thinking about the future.
During my entire time in the martial world, I'd focused on one goal:
Returning to modern Korea.
There had never been a chance to rest.
"Divine Physician, please save my son!"
"My elderly mother can't eat anything. Could you at least check her pulse?"
How could I ignore people who came to me so desperately?
I treated every patient who sought me out.
Whenever I had spare time, I researched the Soul-Returning Great Art.
Eventually, the technique succeeded.
I thought I'd finally earned the right to relax.
Then I returned home and immediately started a new semester.
I still needed my medical license.
As a student, there was only one path forward.
Graduation exams.
National licensing exams.
Graduation.
I'd achieved every goal I'd set.
What remained was simply enjoying life.
Or so I'd thought.
But if I want to keep living... eventually I'll have to work, won't I?
Scratching my head, I answered:
“Let me enjoy myself a little longer before I decide.”
It still wasn't enough.
“Fair enough. I was just worried, that's all. Don't mind me.”
I glanced briefly at my steadily shrinking bank account.
Then I launched another game.
Upgrading my character's equipment was obviously more important.
At last, summer arrived.
June.
“Hmmm...”
There was nothing left to do.
I used to spend entire days burning through mobile-game stamina.
Now there simply wasn't enough content.
I'd never fully completed my PC-game gear set either.
But after running the same raid two hundred times, I'd finally grown sick of it.
Impulsively, I uninstalled the game.
“How empty.”
“Is this what people feel after achieving everything?”
Even NewTube had become boring.
I checked my favorite creators every day.
No matter how frequently they uploaded, there were only one or two videos daily.
“Isn't there any new content...?”
I downloaded and deleted games I'd never played.
I clicked through endless Shorts from unfamiliar creators.
Then suddenly—
“Oh?”
A thumbnail caught my eye.
[If you face no difficulties, you've chosen the wrong path.]
I'd never watched motivational videos during the last six months.
How had the algorithm recommended this?
For some reason, I clicked.
Difficulties, huh...
Come to think of it, I haven't faced a single real challenge lately.
I don't even feel the satisfaction of clearing a difficult raid anymore.
A deep sense of emptiness washed over me.
I remembered the days I'd treated difficult patients and shared their suffering.
Soon the next video autoplayed.
[I only work 16 hours a day, 120 hours a week, 52 weeks a year—and people still call me lucky.]
It was a famous quote from a CEO who built electric cars and rockets.
I straightened my posture and kept watching.
...That's amazing.
Watching a man devote his life to the dream of colonizing Mars ignited something inside me.
No.
This isn't right.
I can't keep living like this.
There had once been a time when I chased impossible dreams.
Back then, every day was packed to the brim.
Looking back, those exhausting days felt happier than this endless leisure.
My master had once said something similar.
A life spent striving toward something you desperately desire is the most beautiful life of all.
I made my decision.
“I need to see patients again.”
Immediately, I logged into an oriental medicine practitioners' community and opened the job-transfer board.
The top post caught my attention.
The owner was relocating to another city and wanted to transfer ownership of his clinic.
“Perfect.”
“A clinic.”
Without hesitation, I left a comment.
I wanted to inspect the practice.
Less than ten seconds later, a reply arrived.
We arranged a meeting.
Twenty-eight hours later—
I signed the contract.
The evening after completing the transfer agreement,
I invited Seoyeong out for dinner.
If I was moving away, we deserved one final feast.
“Great! I'll invite Ji-eun too!”
Apparently worried by how long I'd been hiding at home, Seoyeong brought our class president along.
“Yeowon! Seoyeong! How have you been?!”
Ji-eun greeted us energetically.
“Yeowon, still unemployed? Want me to introduce you to a few places?”
Apparently Seoyeong had told her something.
I appreciated the concern.
But I'd already made my decision.
“Actually, I've decided to open my own clinic. I signed the contract already!”
Seoyeong and Ji-eun froze.
“What?”
“Suddenly?”
“...You're joking, right?”
I proudly displayed the signed contract.
“You never mentioned this!”
“So you've secretly been preparing to open a clinic this whole time?”
The two of them fired questions at me nonstop.
“No, not really. I just got inspired by something I saw on NewTube.”
“Huh?”
“By who?”
“This guy. I even bought his autobiography. Look—I changed my wallpaper to space too.”
I proudly showed them the book.
“...Space?”
“Wait. Don't tell me...”
Their expressions became increasingly strange.
Why?
I might have spent years trapped in the martial world, but even I knew he was a famous figure everyone in Korea recognized.
“N-no, hold on.”
“The book and wallpaper aren't important.”
“You're saying you read this autobiography, got inspired, and then immediately signed a clinic transfer contract?”
Well, technically it was the videos first.
But the autobiography had been inspiring too.
I nodded.
“The joy of working 120 hours a week! Isn't that amazing? I'm thinking of opening my clinic at seven in the morning!”
Ji-eun's jaw dropped.
Seoyeong slammed her forehead onto the table and started pulling at her hair.
“AAAAAAAH! You've lost your mind!”
“Why didn't anyone stop her?!”
“I thought she was just taking a long break! Who jumps straight from that to this?!”
What?
What was wrong?
Completely unable to understand their reaction, I tilted my head and gently stroked the autobiography in my hands.
