I PICKED UP A CHILD IN A DUMPSTER-Chapter 56: The Girl Who Fell Before the World Changed (II)

Chapter 56: The Girl Who Fell Before the World Changed (II)

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The spinning circle felt unusually dramatic— like the universe itself was thinking carefully about her fate

Thug, thug.

Seorin’s heart was beating fast. So fast!

Search results appeared.

Cold.

Direct.

MERCILESS...

At the very top, in bold letters that felt way too confident for something written on the internet: "YES. HEAD INJURIES MAY CAUSE..."

Seorin leaned closer to the screen, eyes trembling.

And then she read the list.

Small pox.

Chicken pox.

Regular pox.

Ultra pox.

Legendary mythic pox.

Limited-edition seasonal pox.

Sudden cough.

Permanent cough.

Temporary permanent cough.

Cough that only appears during emotional moments.

Cough with dramatic background music.

Memory loss.

Hair loss.

Eyebrow loss.

Dignity loss.

Wi-Fi signal loss.

5G signal betrayal.

Battery at 1% forever syndrome.

Cancer.

Double cancer.

Triple emotional damage cancer.

Critical hit emotional damage.

Bone cancer.

Existence questioning emotional damage.

Instant fainting.

Delayed fainting.

Lagging fainting (buffering... buffering...) •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀

Fainting but still conscious enough to regret life.

Existential crisis.

Spontaneous sadness.

Sudden realization at 3AM.

Remembering embarrassing moment from 7 years ago.

Cringe flashback paralysis.

Bone pain.

Bone sadness.

Bone disappointment.

Bones deciding to retire early.

BONE CANCER.

Snack disappearance syndrome.

Fridge betrayal disorder.

Favorite food suddenly tastes mid disease.

Water bottle empty when most needed curse.

Step on LEGO barefoot curse.

Phone falling directly on face catastrophe.

Typing long message then accidentally deleting it tragedy.

Seen zoned terminal illness.

Left on read fatal condition.

And the most dangerous of all...

Homework still not finished syndrome.

Oh...

And... death within 1 minute.

"...Ah..." Seorin’s lips parted.

"...Ah..."

Her pupils shook like unstable camera footage.

"...I’m... dead..." she whispered.

Then suddenly—

"I’M DEAD!!!! (ᗒᗩᗕ)!!!!!"

She jumped out of the chair so fast it nearly rolled backward in betrayal.

Panic level, which was already high, somehow leveled up again.

Without thinking, she sprinted toward her bedroom door, flung it open, and ran down the stairs like a dramatic slow-motion scene— except nothing was slow, and everything was extremely chaotic.

"I-I-I’M GONNA DIE!!! .·´¯(>▂<)´¯·. I’M ONLY TWENTY!!! WHY AM I DYING THIS EARLY?! I HAVEN’T EVEN FINISHED MY GAME BACKLOG!!! I DONT EVEN HAVE A... B O Y F R I E N D YET!!!"

Her voice echoed through the empty house like a tragic opera nobody paid tickets for.

She reached the living room, eyes wild, searching, searching...

SEARCHING—

Her head snapped left.

Then right.

Then left again— harder this time, like the phone might appear out in the air.

Her eyes scanned the entire living room in full emergency mode... table, floor, ceiling, random corner that had absolutely nothing to do with phones... even the wall clock got suspiciously inspected for crimes it didn’t commit.

"WHERE ARE YOU HIDING—" she gasped dramatically, as if the phone had developed free will and chosen to run.

Then—

There.

On the couch.

Peacefully existing.

Completely unaware of the emotional hurricane approaching it.

Even though that’s where she threw it earlier.

She grabbed it with shaking hands and immediately opened the screen—

And paused.

"...Oh."

The screen was normal again. No black background. No mysterious message and most of all no creepy text telling her to climb buildings like it wants her to fall.

Just... her regular home screen, that’s full with bear, dog, cat faces.

Silence.

"...So... it was a virus...? ಥ╭╮ಥ"

Her shoulders dropped in fragile relief.

For exactly two seconds though.

Then—

"WAIT I’M STILL DYING—"

She immediately dialed emergency services with fingers that could barely function due to maximum panic mode.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

A click.

Caller: "Hello? Emergency services?"

Han Seorin: "I— I’M GOING TO DIE!!! (ᗒᗩᗕ)"

A long pause followed.

Not a normal pause.

A dramatic, universe questioning pause.

Caller: "...E-emergency will go now!!! But! Please send your address first!!!"

Seorin gasped sharply, clutching her chest like a historical drama heroine in her final episode.

"A-ah... ah... I can see the light... the angels... they’re calling me... I-I’m about to pass on..."

Caller: "NOOO!!! MA’AM DON’T PASS ON!!! STAY WITH US!!! GIVE US THE ADDRESS NOW!!!"

A single dramatic tear rolled down Seorin’s cheek.

Her voice trembled with the weight of fake last words.

"...Seoul... Mapo-gu... Yeonnam-dong... street... 21... third house... with the... cute bear bedsheets..."

Caller: "WHY ARE THE BEDSHEETS IMPORTANT— NEVER MIND— STAY ALIVE!!! WE’RE COMING!!!"

Call ended....

Silence filled the living room again.

Seorin slowly lowered the phone.

Her breathing shaky.

Her soul... slightly shaky too...

"...Okay... maybe... I’m not dying in one minute..."

A pause.

"...But what if the ambulance is too late..."

Another pause.

"...What if I become eyebrow less..."

Her eyes widened in horror.

"...No. No. I refuse that fate!!!"

Seorin blinked slowly.

"...I... wait... why am I panicking like I’m already dead... what am I even doing...?"

The question hung in the air.

Very deep. Very philosophical and... uh... Very useless.

She quietly turned off her phone.

Silence returned to the living room, soft and awkward, like even the furniture was judging her life choices.

She dropped onto the couch.

"...Should I run...?" she murmured.

"...Like... run away... and not wait for the ambulance...?"

A pause.

"...But where would I even run... I get tired after one flight of stairs..."

Another pause.

"...Running is cancelled."

She slowly opened her phone again and switched to the front camera.

Her face appeared on screen.

Short hair.

Pale skin.

A tiny dried line of blood near her forehead.

And still— pretty.

She stared at herself for a long moment... then gave a tiny smile.

"...Yeah... Mehehe, I know... I’m beautiful..." she whispered softly.

"Hehe... I’m Han Seorin, you know..."

The smile stayed.

Until her eyes drifted slightly upward— toward the dried blood.

"...Haha..."

A small, weak laugh.

"...Yeah... I’m dying... ಥ‿ಥ"

Silence.

Nothing dramatic happened.

No angel choir.

No slow motion wind.

No final episode soundtrack.

Just... quiet waiting.

So— with the calm acceptance of someone who had already embarrassed herself enough for one day— she opened social media.

Scrolling.

Scrolling...

Cat video.

Food post.

Someone flexing abs for no reason.

Another cat video.

Then— she stopped. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

One news clip sat at the top of the feed, gaining views rapidly.

A formal stage.

Bright lights.

A crowd in expensive suits.

At the center stood an old man giving a speech.

And beside him— a young man who looked extremely, painfully, aggressively annoyed to be alive.

Seorin squinted at the screen.

"...Huh...?"

Her thumb tapped the video.

And the broadcast began to play.

The old man’s laughter echoed through the microphones— loud, confident... the kind of laugh that only came from someone who had never once checked a price tag in his entire life.

The audience laughed with him.

Of course they did.

Rich people’s laughter was apparently contagious.

Seorin leaned closer to her phone screen, eyes still a little puffy from crying five minutes ago about her supposed one-minute death timer.

"...Why does this feel... like it’s mportant..." she muttered.

On screen, the old man slowly raised one hand.

The room quieted almost instantly.

Not because they respected him.

But because power had a sound— and everyone in the room could hear it.

"My son..." the old man repeated, glancing at the annoyed young man beside him,

"...doesn’t believe what I believe."

The camera zoomed slightly toward the son.

Messy Black hair, uniform slightly wrinkled like he didn’t care.

Face clearly screaming I don’t want to be here without saying a single word.

And yet...

Still annoyingly handsome.

Seorin squinted.

"...Wow. Life is so unfair. Some people get money and face card..." she whispered.

Back on stage, the old man adjusted his suit slowly— deliberately— like even time itself waited for him to finish.

"You see..." he continued, voice lowering just enough to pull everyone closer, "People say money cannot buy everything."

A pause.

Then he smiled.

The video zoomed slightly toward the stage.

The old man adjusted the microphone with a slow confidence— the kind of confidence that only came from never losing an argument in his entire life.

His voice echoed across the hall.

"They are wrong."

The crowd quieted instantly.

Even through the phone screen, the atmosphere felt heavy... expensive... intimidating.

He smiled faintly, like someone amused by the ignorance of the world.

"People say money cannot buy happiness," he continued calmly.

"They say money cannot solve everything."

A soft chuckle left his lips.

"Want... a shop?"

He laughed lightly.

"Money."

"Want a mistress?"

Another small laugh, completely unbothered by morality.

"Money."

"Want a car? A building? A company? A future?"

His eyes slowly swept across the audience.

"Do you want anything at all?"

A pause.

Then—

"Money."

He sounded like... the kind that sounded crazy— until you realized he might actually be right.

The single word landed like a hammer.

No music or drama... just absolute certainty.

Then somewhere in the crowd, people began clapping.

Then more.

Until the entire hall filled with applause loud enough to shake the camera slightly.

Soft murmurs spread through the audience.

The old man placed a hand over his chest.

"Right now... I am probably the richest man in Korea."

The crowd stirred.

"But give me a few more years..." he said calmly, "...and I will become the richest man in the world."

No clap or laughter now.

Only silence.

Because he didn’t sound like he was bragging.

He sounds serious... dead serious.

Seorin stared at the screen, half impressed... half confused... and slightly concerned about society.

"...Wow," she muttered quietly.

"...He really said that with full confidence..."

He then looked directly into the camera.

"So— for those who still don’t know me..."

A small smile.

"Allow me to introduce myself."

The pause stretched just long enough to feel dramatic— but not long enough to feel fake.

"I am Kim Dae-Hyun."

The name alone felt heavy.

Like it carried buildings.

Companies.

Governments.

Decisions that could quietly change thousands of lives overnight.

"And this..." he added, resting a hand on the annoyed young man’s shoulder,

"...is my only son."

The son didn’t react.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t bow.

Didn’t even pretend.

He just looked straight ahead with tired eyes that clearly wanted to be anywhere else.

"...Kim Si-Hon."