On the way home after collecting her winnings, Seoyoon stopped at the supermarket.

She pushed her cart past the fruit section like always, then stopped in front of the strawberries.

Her daughter could finish an entire pack in one sitting.

But lately, a single pack cost well over ten thousand won.

Seoyoon usually stared for a while, then walked away.

Today was different.

She put a pack of strawberries in the cart.

Then cherries.

Then Shine Muscat grapes.

Normally, her hand went to the price tag first.

Today it didn't hesitate.

She pictured her daughter's face.

(Child): “Mom! You bought strawberries?”

Just imagining how happy she'd be made Seoyoon smile too.

She added the expensive cheese her husband liked, and beef she rarely bought because of the price.

The cart filled up quickly.

Seoyoon looked at it and smiled.

She could buy all this and not worry about the month's grocery budget.

The feeling was almost absurdly good.

Before heading to the register, she looked down into the cart.

Things for her child.

Things for her husband.

Things they would eat together.

A thought suddenly occurred to her.

Shouldn't I have put in something I like too?

Then she shrugged inwardly.

I like everything anyway.

It didn't feel strange.

It had always been like this.

She simply went to pay.

Having 3.2 billion won didn't transform her life the next morning.

She still took her daughter to kindergarten.

Came home and vacuumed.

Hung laundry.

Bought groceries.

Prepared dinner.

Picked her daughter up in the afternoon.

Her husband went to work and came home in the evening.

Only the number in the bank account had changed.

For a few days, that sameness was actually comforting.

There was also something secretly fun about being the only person who knew about the money.

I actually have 3.2 billion won.

At the supermarket register.

Outside the kindergarten.

Inside the elevator.

She would think it silently to herself.

But she didn't suddenly crave things.

A luxury handbag.

A new car.

An expensive watch.

Nothing in particular came to mind.

More than anything, Seoyoon wanted to spend the money well.

Then one day, after taking her daughter to kindergarten, she didn't feel like going straight home.

The weather was nice.

Maybe I'll sit somewhere for a while.

She walked into a café near home, one she normally wouldn't have considered because the coffee felt too expensive.

She ordered an Americano and took a seat by the window.

No laptop.

No one to meet.

She simply sat there.

The café was quiet on a weekday morning.

It had been a long time since she had sat somewhere without her child and without checking the time.

She took a sip of coffee.

It was nice.

Ridiculously simple, but nice.

Is this what breathing room feels like?

She set down her phone and looked outside.

Then it hit her.

Laundry.

She had started the washing machine before leaving.

She had to go home and hang it.

The bathroom needed cleaning too.

And the dishes in the dishwasher had to be put away.

One task after another lined up in her head.

The ease she'd felt moments ago began to tighten into impatience.

She checked the time.

10:48.

I should go.

She started to stand.

Then stopped.

Why?

Why did she have to go right now?

Seoyoon sat down again.

She opened a search bar on her phone.

“Housekeeping service.”

Several companies appeared.

Cleaning.

Laundry.

Kitchen organization.

You could book by the hour.

She checked the price.

Three hours.

A little over 60,000 won.

The old Seoyoon would have closed the window immediately.

Why spend sixty thousand won cleaning when I'm home all day?

For that money, we could eat out once.

That's a third of the art academy tuition.

Those would have been her first thoughts.

She stared at the screen for a long time.

Then she tapped Reserve.

A few days later, a housekeeper came to her home for the first time.

Seoyoon felt oddly embarrassed.

The apartment wasn't even that dirty.

It wasn't as though there was anything she couldn't do herself.

(Housekeeper): “Where would you like me to start?”

Seoyoon spent a while explaining.

Bathroom.

Kitchen.

Floors.

And if possible, the laundry too.

Even after explaining everything, she stood there awkwardly until the housekeeper smiled.

(Housekeeper): “You can go out if you'd like. I'll take care of everything.”

(Seoyoon): “Oh. Okay.”

Seoyoon picked up her bag and left.

She didn't have anywhere in particular to go.

So she went back to the café.

The same window seat was taken, so she sat beside it.

She ordered coffee.

This time, when she thought about the laundry, she didn't have to get up.

When she thought about the bathroom, she didn't have to go home.

Someone else was doing it.

Seoyoon put down her phone.

One hour.

Two hours.

For the first time in a long while, the time itself felt like it belonged to her.

Three hours later, she went home.

The floor gleamed when she opened the door.

The bathroom was dry and tidy.

The laundry had been folded.

The sink was clean.

Seoyoon slowly looked around the apartment.

These were all things she usually did.

Today, someone else had done them.

And during those hours, Seoyoon had done nothing.

She drank coffee.

Looked out the window.

Walked a little.

That was all.

Yet somehow, the day felt less suffocating.

She checked the payment on her phone.

64,000 won.

The old Seoyoon would have thought it was a waste.

Today, she didn't.

For the first time, she understood.

Money didn't only buy things.

She hadn't bought cleaning.

She hadn't bought laundry.

She had bought three hours in which she didn't have to do either.

Seoyoon sat on the sofa and looked at the empty living room.

Then murmured to herself,

(Seoyoon): “So you really can buy time with money.”

It was the first moment since winning 3.2 billion won that she truly felt rich.