Chapter 6 - Episode 5: The First Patient

October 22-23, 2005

Day 6-7 of Ascension

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October 22 (Saturday)

14:00 PM, Mr. Park's Apartment

The librarian's nephew lived in a modest apartment complex fifteen minutes from the orphanage. Mr. Park (the librarian, not the deceased accountant) met Je-hoon outside.

"His name is Min-jun. Eighth grade. Math is... a struggle."

"What specific areas?" Je-hoon asked.

"Fractions. Algebra. Word problems."

"I'll assess and tailor."

Mr. Park looked relieved. "He's a good boy. Just needs patience."

They entered the apartment. Small but tidy. Bookshelves filled with novels, not textbooks. Min-jun waited at the kitchen table, scowling.

Fourteen years old, gangly, with the perpetual resentment of those forced into activities they dislike.

"This is Je-hoon," Mr. Park said. "The tutor I mentioned."

Min-jun glanced, dismissed. "He's a kid."

"He's competent," Mr. Park said firmly. "Two hours. I'll be in the other room."

He left them alone.

Je-hoon sat. Placed his bag on the floor. "Show me your last test."

Min-jun slid a paper across. Red marks covered it. 48%.

Je-hoon scanned. ZEO analyzed:

· 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙜𝙖𝙥𝙨: 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣-𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

· 𝙏𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮: 𝙀𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧𝙨

· 𝘽𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘: 𝙎𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙

"You understand multiplication and division," Je-hoon said. "But you panic when letters appear."

Min-jun blinked. "What?"

"Algebra is just arithmetic with unknowns. You know 3 × 4 = 12. So 3 × x = 12, then x must be 4. Same logic."

He wrote on scratch paper. Simple, visual.

"But they make it complicated," Min-jun muttered.

"Because they teach procedures, not principles. Let's start with principles."

For the next hour, Je-hoon taught not just math, but how to think about math. Pattern recognition. Problem decomposition. Checking work.

Min-jun's resistance faded as he experienced small successes. "Oh. That makes sense."

"Because it is sense. Mathematics is the language of patterns. You're just learning vocabulary."

By the end of two hours, Min-jun could solve basic linear equations consistently. Not masterful, but functional.

Mr. Park returned, saw his nephew actually engaged, and smiled. "Next week?"

"Yes," Min-jun said, surprising himself.

Je-hoon collected ₩3,000. "Same time."

As he left, Mr. Park added, "My colleague at the high school needs a tutor for her daughter. I recommended you. She'll contact you through the orphanage."

𝙉𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙏𝙪𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙.

---

17:00 PM, The Unexpected

On his walk back, Je-hoon took a shortcut through a narrow alley between apartment blocks. ZEO's passive scan alerted:

𝙒𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙫𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨: 23 𝙢 𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙. 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨. 𝘼𝙜𝙚: 𝙚𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮.

He rounded a corner. An old woman sat on the ground, leaning against a wall, clutching her left arm. Her shopping bags had spilled—vegetables, a bottle of soy sauce, a small packet of medicine.

"Are you injured?" Je-hoon asked, keeping distance.

"My arm," she gasped. "Slipped."

Je-hoon assessed without touching:

· 𝘼𝙜𝙚: 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙭. 72

· 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬, 𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙙

· 𝘼𝙧𝙢 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙙, 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚

· 𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧: 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙮

Probable proximal humerus fracture. Possible nerve involvement.

"I'll call for help," Je-hoon said.

"No, no ambulance," the woman insisted. "Too expensive. My son... he'll be home soon."

Shock and financial fear overriding logic.

Je-hoon calculated. He could leave. Ethical obligation minimal. Or...

𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚. 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙠: 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚. 𝙍𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙: 𝙪𝙣𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙣.

"May I examine?" he asked. "I've studied first aid."

The woman nodded weakly.

Je-hoon knelt. Gently touched her shoulder—not the injury, but adjacent tissue. As he did, he activated ZEO's healing at minimal level: 0.0001% core energy.

𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙣: 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙪𝙨. 𝙉𝙤 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙. 𝙉𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡. 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙: 0.0003%.

He directed the energy. Felt the microscopic shifts—bone fragments realigning, capillaries repairing, inflammation reducing.

The woman gasped. "Warm... feels warm."

"Increased blood flow," Je-hoon said, covering. "The bone is likely bruised, not broken. But you still need medical attention."

He helped her stand. The pain had diminished significantly—from 8/10 to 3/10. Enough for her to walk with support.

"My apartment," she pointed. "There. Third floor."

He carried her groceries, supported her up the stairs. The building was old, smells of cooking and mildew mixing.

At her door, she fumbled for keys. "You're a good boy. What's your name?"

"Je-hoon."

"I'm Mrs. Yang. Wait."

She entered, returned with a ₩10,000 note. "For your help."

"That's not necessary."

"Take it. And... come back next week. I make good kimchi. I'll give you some."

An offer of reciprocity. Cultural obligation.

He accepted the money. "Thank you. But please see a doctor. Bruises can hide serious injury."

She nodded, promising.

As he left, ZEO logged:

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙛𝙪𝙡. 𝙀𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙮 𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚: 0.0003%. 𝙉𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙨. 𝙎𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙.

Capital now: ₩12,250 + ₩3,000 (tutoring) + ₩10,000 (Mrs. Yang) = ₩25,250.

And something else: confirmation that healing worked. That he could, discreetly, alter reality.

---

October 23 (Sunday)

13:00 PM, Mi-so Family Convenience Store

The store was small but well-organized. Mi-so's father, Mr. Choi, had the weary posture of small business owners everywhere.

"You're the orphanage boy," he said, not unkindly.

"Yes, sir."

"Mi-so says you're smart and don't complain. Good qualities." He handed Je-hoon an apron. "Stock shelves. Check expiration dates. Front-facing. Nice and tidy."

Je-hoon nodded. Simple system.

For three hours, he worked. The store had approximately 1,200 SKUs. ZEO cataloged each as he handled it:

· 𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 32 𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙨, 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚

· 𝙄𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨: 47 𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙨, 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙙𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙

· 𝘿𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮: 23 𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙨, 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣-𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

He noticed inefficiencies: popular items placed low, slow-moving items at eye level. Expired products hidden behind fresh stock.

During a lull, he approached Mr. Choi.

"The yogurt drinks. The strawberry flavor sells out by Wednesday, but you restock Friday. There's two-day deficit."

Mr. Choi looked up from his accounting book. "How do you know?"

"I counted empty slots versus inventory tags. Also, the mint chocolate chips haven't moved in three weeks. Positioning them next to the milk might increase impulse purchases."

Mr. Choi stared. Then laughed. "You're not just smart. You're observant."

"Observation is data. Data is optimization."

"Alright. Next week, you can help with ordering. I'll pay extra."

𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙪𝙥𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚: ₩3,000 → ₩5,000 𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙡𝙮.

Mi-so arrived mid-shift, bringing lunch. She smiled at Je-hoon. "He working hard?"

"Too hard," Mr. Choi grumbled fondly. "Making me feel lazy."

They ate simple kimbap together in the back room. Mi-so asked, "Why do you need so much money?"

"Independence requires capital."

"You're ten."

"And?"

She shook her head, smiling. "You're different. But good-different."

A compliment. He filed it.

---

17:00 PM, The Broken Vending Machine

On his walk back, Je-hoon passed a neglected vending machine outside a closed factory. Cola, cider, coffee cans. Out of order sign.

But ZEO's scan detected something: internal mechanism jammed, not broken. Coin slot accepting payment but not registering.

A thought occurred.

He approached. Examined. The machine was old, poorly maintained. He inserted ₩500. Heard the coin drop, but no selection lights activated.

He tried the service panel. Locked, but cheap lock. With a small twist of his screwdriver (from his repair kit), it popped open.

Inside: simple relay system. A stuck lever preventing completion of circuit. He nudged it. It clicked.

The machine hummed to life. Selection lights glowed.

He pressed B3: Maxim coffee can. It clunked out.

He retrieved his coffee plus his ₩500 coin, which had fallen into the return chute.

Then he looked at the coin box. Unlocked. Contained approximately ₩18,000 in assorted coins. Forgotten money.

Ethical dilemma.

Taking it was theft. Leaving it meant it would eventually be removed by whoever owned the machine, possibly months later.

He compromised: took ₩5,000—compensation for repair services. Left the rest.

Capital: ₩25,250 + ₩5,000 = ₩30,250.

And a free coffee.

---

19:00 PM, First Medical Application

Back at the orphanage, an incident awaited.

Tae-woo met him at the gate, panicked. "It's Min-soo. He fell from the bunk bed ladder. His arm..."

Je-hoon hurried to the dormitory. A small crowd had gathered around Min-soo, who sat on the floor, cradling his right wrist, face pale with pain.

Mrs. Han was trying to calm him. "The clinic is closed until tomorrow. We'll wrap it for now."

Je-hoon assessed:

· 𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚: 25° 𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙤𝙣 (𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡: 70°)

· 𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙙, 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

· 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧: 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙

· 𝙋𝙪𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙮: 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠

Likely Colles' fracture—distal radius.

"May I examine?" Je-hoon asked Mrs. Han. "I've been reading medical texts."

She hesitated, but the clinic was closed, and she was overwhelmed. "Gently."

Je-hoon knelt. Touched Min-soo's forearm, above the injury. "Can you move your fingers?"

Min-soo grimaced, tried. Limited movement.

Nerve compression possible.

Je-hoon applied the lightest healing energy: 0.0002%. Directed to reduce swelling, stabilize bone fragments, relieve nerve pressure.

Min-soo gasped. "Feels... cooler."

"Reducing inflammation," Je-hoon said. "It needs proper setting, but this will stabilize until morning."

He fashioned a makeshift splint from cardboard and bandages from the first aid kit. Proper technique: wrist in neutral position, fingers free to monitor circulation.

Mrs. Han watched, impressed. "Where did you learn that?"

"Library books."

"You're full of surprises."

Min-soo looked at Je-hoon, pain replaced by confusion and something like gratitude. "Thanks."

"Don't use it. Keep it elevated. Ice if available."

The crowd dispersed. Crisis managed.

Later, in the bathroom washing up, Je-hoon examined his own hands. The energy expenditure was negligible. But the satisfaction was... notable.

He had alleviated suffering. Efficiently.

That felt different from making money or acquiring knowledge. More... human.

---

21:30 PM, Strategic Review

Lights out. The dormitory settled.

Je-hoon lay awake, running calculations.

One week since awakening. Progress assessment:

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡:

· 𝘾𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡: ₩30,250

· 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙩𝙨: 3 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨, 1 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠

· 𝙒𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙟𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: ₩14,000-₩18,000

𝙆𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚:

· 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙚: 𝙀𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙢𝙖, 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮

· 𝘾𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚: 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚

· 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘾 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚

· 𝘽𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨: 𝙍𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

𝙎𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙉𝙚𝙩𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢:

· 𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚: 𝘿𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 (𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙), 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙛𝙛 (3 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚), 𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙨 (6 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨)

· 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙡: 𝙈𝙧. 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙠 (𝙡𝙞𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙣), 𝙈𝙧. 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙞 (𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙚𝙧), 𝙈𝙧𝙨. 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙜 (𝙚𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙮), 𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 (2)

𝙋𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙐𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣:

· 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜: 2 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨

· 𝙄𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙮: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙡

· 𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚, 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

Not bad. But the orphanage's instability loomed. Inspection coming. Potential merger. His position was precarious.

He needed a contingency plan.

An idea formed: what if he could generate enough capital to... not be dependent? Not now, but eventually?

The tutoring chain could expand. The store consulting could scale. The sports analysis could become formal.

But all required time. And he had 26 days until Soo-jae's return.

He needed acceleration.

The calculators he'd repaired—he could sell them. But that was one-time cash.

Better: use them. For something.

He remembered the vending machine. There were likely others. Neglected. Repairable.

A micro-business: vending machine repair and maintenance. Small fees. Recurring.

But he needed access. Tools. Transportation.

Problems to solve.

He closed his eyes. Tomorrow: Monday. School. Library. And perhaps... reconnaissance.

---

𝙒𝙚𝙚𝙠 1: 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚

𝘾𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡: ₩30,250

𝙆𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚: 4 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨

𝙎𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨: 5 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡

𝙉𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠: 12 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘼𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙙

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩: 𝘼𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙙

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨: 𝙄𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨. 𝙎𝙡𝙤𝙬, 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮, 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚.

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End Episode 5