A Genius Speaks with Money

The sky in London was heavy, as if pressed down in gray light beneath thick clouds.

Fog faintly covered the car windows, and the damp wind seeped through the gaps in the buildings, so even the interior was not free from the chill.

In winter London, even the scenery was filled only with silence and cynicism as if it had closed its mouth.

Still, compared to the cold in Korea, this much was cute.

While Korea had already entered weather that went below zero, the UK was somewhat livable.

A private jet that flew from Korea arrived at Heathrow Airport.

I was still moving while riding in a wheelchair.

As a special lift descending from the private jet operated, my wheelchair slowly came down to the ground.

I said I would walk down, but I followed as Choi Seo-jun insisted due to his stinging gaze.