Kang Jin-woo did not believe in clubs.
Not because he was antisocial, no. He could make friends with a stray cat if it had credit history.
No — Jin-woo didn't trust clubs because they were traps.Traps that took time. Traps that asked for membership fees.Traps where seniors with suspiciously nice shoes lured freshmen into "networking opportunities" that somehow ended with unpaid labor.
But today… was Club Recruitment Day.
And Jin-woo was on the hunt.
Not for community.
Not for friendship.
But for free snacks.
"Okay," he said, tightening the strings of his hoodie like a man about to enter battle. "I've mapped the booths. Prioritized the ones with goodie bags. The engineering club's offering gimbap. The literature club has cookies. Finance club is giving away—get this—portable phone fans."
Yuna looked up from her novel. "You mean the thing that breaks after two uses and nearly slices your nose off?"
"It's called risk-reward, noona."
She sipped her iced Americano. "Just don't join anything shady."
He laughed. "Me? Shady? I'm sunlight in human form."
"You literally tried to start a sock-based cryptocurrency yesterday."
"It was innovative."
She held up her phone. "Your whitepaper had a typo in every paragraph."
"That was intentional. Keeps the regulators confused."
The club fair was chaos incarnate.
Tents flapped in the wind. Students in matching shirts waved signs. Someone in a penguin costume handed out flyers. The air smelled of instant noodles, desperation, and glitter.
Jin-woo made his rounds like a foraging raccoon.
"Hello! Would you like to learn about data science?"
"Only if data comes with dumplings."
"Would you like to help improve the student environment?"
"I am the student environment."
"Join our drama club!"
"I've been dramatic since birth."
Eventually, he arrived at the Finance Club booth.
It was sleek. Professional. People wore collared shirts unironically. There was even a banner:
"Turning Passion into Profit."
Now we're talking.
A girl with perfectly straight bangs handed him a brochure.
"Interested in wealth building?"
Jin-woo gave his most angelic smile. "I was born to build wealth."
She looked impressed. "Are you a business major?"
He hesitated. "I'm… undecided. Between entrepreneurship and divine prophecy."
"Excuse me?"
"I've seen things. In vending machines."
Ten minutes later, he was inside the finance club tent, holding a tiny paper cup of lukewarm instant coffee and nodding at words like capital rotation and diversified risk.
He understood exactly none of it.
But when someone mentioned a ₩1,000,000 student investment challenge, his brain lit up like Christmas.
One million won… That's like 2,000 convenience store triangle kimbaps… or 80 dates' worth of "accidental" soda spills in front of Noona…
Jin-woo raised his hand. "So, when do we get the money?"
Back at the dorm, he threw open the door dramatically.
"Noona! I joined a club!"
Yuna dropped her phone. "You WHAT?!"
"They lured me in with buzzwords and terrible coffee. But now, I'm a junior analyst!"
"You've been analyzing ramen prices all week."
"And now I get to do it with graphs."
She eyed him suspiciously. "How long until you accidentally short the school's vending machines?"
"No promises."
Later that night, Jin-woo proudly presented his first assignment:"Mock Investment Portfolio Proposal."
"Look," he explained, showing off a PowerPoint with clipart coins and a stock photo of a man laughing at his laptop. "I'm suggesting they invest in—wait for it—instant noodles futures."
Yuna rubbed her eyes. "That's not a thing."
"It could be. Imagine betting on the price of Shin Ramyun like it's the stock market."
"You're insane."
He nodded. "Insanely visionary."
🖼️ Bonus Illustration Description:
Scene: Jin-woo in a club tent, dramatically shaking hands with a finance senior while another member facepalms in the background. The banner behind reads "Wealth Today, Chill Tomorrow!"
Caption:"My financial plan is ramen-based, risk-free, and vaguely illegal."
Later That Week...
A spreadsheet on Jin-woo's screen glowed like forbidden treasure.
Rows of mock stocks. A pie chart labeled "Hot Snacks vs. Cold Drinks." A mysterious category called "Noona-Related Emergency Fund."
Yuna peeked over his shoulder. "You're budgeting for me now?"
He shrugged. "Your coffee habit impacts the economy."
"That's kinda sweet… I think?"
He clicked the mouse. "And if this portfolio wins, we get a scholarship bonus."
She blinked. "We?"
"Everything I own is half yours."
"Oh?"
"Except the vending machine keys. Those are sacred."
At 2 a.m., he was still at his desk, muttering.
"Buy two kimbaps, sell one, eat half, barter the rest for choco pies—"
Yuna turned over in bed. "Go to sleep, Finance Goblin."
"I'm almost there! I just need to make this spreadsheet sexy enough to win!"
"You're trying to seduce the judges with fonts?!"
"Money Sans Bold. It's statistically irresistible."
The next morning, Jin-woo turned in his portfolio with pride.
Later that day, he received a note in his locker:
"Creative idea. You are now banned from using the term 'Noodle Futures' in official club materials. Please report to club leader for a... conversation."
Jin-woo smiled to himself.
Worth it.