The next morning arrived with a quiet heaviness.
His mother moved slowly around the apartment, her eyes swollen from crying, her steps dragging as if she were carrying the whole world on her back.
Ruined fabric still lay in the corner near the door—a reminder that poverty wasn't the only enemy.Cruel people were worse.
But today…the world had other plans.
Around noon, there came a knock on the door.Not sharp like the sewing shop owner.Not impatient like the landlord.
Gentle.
Measured.
Respectful.
His mother froze.
"Who… who could that be?"
She wiped her face, tucked her hair behind her ears, and opened the door slowly.
A man stood there—middle-aged, tall, neatly dressed in a navy coat, wearing glasses. He looked nothing like anyone from their neighborhood.
His eyes were calm, thoughtful, not judgmental.
"Good afternoon," he said softly. "Are you… Mrs. Seo?"
"Yes…" she replied cautiously.
He bowed politely."My name is Han Junseok. I'm the director of Mirin's boutique chain. Mirin is my daughter."
His mother gasped.
The son—or father?No—he said daughter.
So this man was powerful.
Stores.Money.Connections.
A completely different league from the sewing shop owner.
Junseok smiled warmly. "Mirin told me about your work. I came personally because she said she discovered a rare talent."
His mother blinked rapidly, speechless.
He held up a shopping bag. "I bought every wallet she displayed this morning."
"E-every one…?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "And three customers asked if we could restock. That's why I'm here. I want to offer you an ongoing partnership."
His mother grabbed the door frame to steady herself.
The baby watched from the floor, eyes narrowing slightly.
This man had:
Influence.Business insight.A good family.Good posture.Good speech.
A possible ally—or someone who could become important later.
But not an enemy.
Not like the others.
Junseok stepped inside, removing his shoes politely.
"I hope this isn't too forward," he said, "but I wanted to see your environment. Not to judge—just to understand how to support you."
His mother immediately bowed deeply. "It's very small… I'm embarrassed…"
"No need," he replied gently. "Skill matters, not the size of a home."
He sat at the foldable table and examined one of her newer wallets.
"This stitching…" he murmured, impressed. "Precise. Clean. Better than many amateur crafters."
Her eyes filled with tears again. "Thank you… I really tried…"
He nodded. "I can see that. And I want to help. If you're willing, I'd like to commission 50 wallets for a new boutique branch we're opening next month."
She swayed, overwhelmed.
"F-Fifty…?"
He smiled. "Yes. And if sales stay strong, we'll increase to 100 monthly."
Her legs gave out and she sank to her knees, covering her mouth.
"I… I don't know if I can…"
"You can," Junseok said softly. "And we'll pay fairly. Not like the people here."
Her entire body trembled.
The respect in his tone was something she had never received.Not once.Not from anyone.
Her lips quivered. "I… I don't know what to say…"
"Just say yes," he said kindly.
She whispered, "Yes… yes, I will…"
And tears streamed down her face.
He stood up and bowed again."I look forward to working with you."
Before leaving, he paused.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said. "I heard from Mirin that someone tried to sabotage you. I don't know the details, but if anyone harasses you again… call me."
He placed his business card on the table.
Han JunseokDirector of MJ Handmade Co.Phone: xxx-xxxx-xxxx
The sewing shop owner had threatened her.
But today?
Someone far, far stronger had protected her.
The power dynamics had shifted.
A small push now had become a tide.
After Junseok left, the apartment felt different.
Bigger.Lighter.Filled with possibility.
His mother cried quietly, holding him in her lap, whispering,"Thank you… thank you… thank you…"
He watched her tears fall—not from despair, but from hope.
And he began thinking.
Hard.
Step 1: Stabilize mother's income through the boutique.This would destroy the sewing shop's control.
Step 2: Improve her skills even more.Higher quality = higher value = higher income.
Step 3: Expand beyond the boutique.Market stalls.Online communities.Foreign buyers.
Step 4: Save money.Every won mattered.
Step 5: Prepare for the future economy.Tech growth.Online marketplaces.Economic shifts.
But the most important:
He needed to grow.Faster.Smarter.Stronger.
He needed books.Knowledge.Information.
His toddler body limited him.
But reading…Reading would free him.
So when his mother wasn't looking, he crawled to the donated book pile and pulled out a thin children's storybook.
He opened it.Slowly.Carefully.
He stared at the letters.
Sounded them out in his head.Matched them to meaning.Connected patterns.
Soon—he would read fluently.
Soon—he would speak fluently.
Soon—his mind would no longer be trapped behind baby lips.
And then the world would shift even more.
That evening, while she cooked, voices drifted through the paper-thin walls.
The sewing shop owner was yelling again.
"Why did the boutique stop ordering from us!?""Why is nobody buying our older designs!?""What do you mean the market is complaining about quality!?""What do you mean we're losing customers?!"
The teenage boy's voice trembled.
"Dad… people said her wallets were better…"
"SHUT UP!"
A crash.More yelling.
His mother froze, spoon trembling in her hand.
But the toddler?
He wasn't afraid.
He smiled.
Because this was how it started in every economic rise—
The fall of the oldThe rise of the new
The sewing shop had declared war on her.
But now?
The economy had declared war on them.
And he would make sure they lost.