Chapter 1

American Physical Genius 1

1

I have loved novels since I was a child.

Especially adventures, friendships, and love stories that make my heart race... Even if others might find them childish, I particularly enjoyed novels with such youthful sentiments.

...Perhaps it was because I couldn't experience those things in reality.

“Why does he even bother living when his body is a mess?”

“Yeah, if I were him, I’d just die. No, wait... He can’t even commit suicide, can he?”

“Wow... That’s true. Maybe he has no choice but to keep living.”

“……”

Those were the exact words of the orphanage kids.

I was a person with a congenital diagnosis of full-body paralysis.

I was a newborn who had been abandoned in a garbage bag, and a passerby found and reported me. They say I was discovered in a bloody state, and that my spine was damaged due to physical trauma, not genetic factors.

‘Well, what does the cause matter now?’

The only fortunate thing was that it was incomplete paralysis, so there was a slight chance of recovery, even if it was as small as a mouse’s tail?

– Be a good boy, okay? If you listen to the doctor, you can become healthy like the other kids. Come on, let’s do a little more exercise.

When I was young, I used to participate in rehabilitation with all my heart, believing in the doctor’s encouragement.

It was quite effective.

Over a few years, I managed to support my neck, move one hand a little, and even speak, albeit hesitantly. But that was the limit.

After that, there was no progress, and the doctor gave up and moved on to more interesting “cases.”

It was around that time that I was transferred from a medical facility for disabled infants to a regular orphanage.

The world of the orphanage was harsh, unlike the medical facility where I always received focused care.

“Isn’t a kid like that just a waste of tax money? He can’t function as a human being for life, so why support him?”

“Really disgusting. We lose our subsidies when we become adults, but disabled kids get to live and eat for life.”

“Parasite. Why don’t you just die?”

The older kids who were about to leave and enter society were especially harsh. I understood their perspective, but it still hurt a lot.

“...Mia, I’ll try to be a helper in society too.”

“Surprise. You’re awake, cripple. At least open your eyes. You’re embarrassing people.”

“Just pretend to be sleeping, you have no sense at all, do you?”

“……”

I tried to improve my relationships, but it wasn’t easy.

Each orphan had their own wounds, and their defense mechanisms were very strong.

‘Let’s read a novel.’

Perhaps reading novels was also a defense mechanism for me.

My reality was too harsh, so I found an escape in the imaginary world. Immersing myself in the protagonist allowed me to temporarily forget my situation.

The adventures I experienced indirectly through the protagonist made my dead heart beat again.

Through novels, I could move to a world full of charm whenever I wanted.

Of course, I always had to return to the cold reality.

*

The decision to write a novel wasn’t due to any special reason.

I proudly told the orphanage kids, “I can do something too. I’ll do my best not to be a burden to society,” but there weren’t many things a person with full-body paralysis could actually do.

Since I loved novels and had read a lot, I thought I could write one too. I had tried many times with vague hopes.

‘Actually, writing isn’t easy.’

I failed repeatedly. Perhaps my standards as a reader were too high, and I was disappointed by my poor creative abilities, which made me determined to try again.

So, I secretly gave up on my dream of being a writer and instead completed realistic training for jobs like call center operator, data researcher, and remote secretary.

They weren’t prestigious or high-paying jobs, but I felt a sense of achievement as a member of society.

With constant practice, my pronunciation improved significantly, which was a positive aspect.

‘I am useful too.’

Although I faced a lot of mental and physical strain from the abuse of my colleagues and customers, it felt good to feel alive.

I started sleeping better and, most importantly, reading became much more enjoyable.

‘Although I miss the days when I could read books all day without a care, I find it much more enjoyable to read in my spare time now.’

Maybe the kids in the orphanage were right when they said games were more fun during exam periods.

Even though the amount of reading decreased, the quality improved, making my life much richer.

I started devouring books in various fields, not just novels.

Thanks to this, I could think more deeply, and my imagination became much broader during this period.

At the time, I didn’t realize it, but looking back, I was steadily preparing to be a writer during the hardest period of my life, both physically and mentally.

*

Do people who love books have similar experiences?

After 10 years of working hard and reading in my spare time, a world was formed in my mind.

It was a virtual world. It had similarities to the many novels I had read, but it also had my own unique creations.

It was a world where people lived. The characters who had stimulated my imagination coexisted, and they wrote their own small and grand stories.

Just closing my eyes and watching them was incredibly enjoyable. Sometimes they lived simple daily lives, and other times they performed spectacular actions that rivaled blockbusters.

‘Is the world where I live as a disabled person the reality? Or is the world in my mind the reality?’

Occasionally, the boundary between reality and the world in my mind became blurred, like in a dream. In fact, if I didn’t consciously make an effort, I often spent hours in the virtual world.

The doctor said it was the early stage of a mental illness and prescribed medication, but I only took a few doses and threw the rest away.

I was fine even if I had a mental illness. When I took the medication and my mind became hazy, I suffered from withdrawal symptoms, breaking out in cold sweats and struggling to breathe.

To me, the virtual world was reality.

*

“Chulsoo, this is dangerous. You’re losing your attachment to reality. You might never come back.”

I fainted from dizziness and was taken to the emergency room. I heard the doctor’s words, but they seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

However, I clearly remembered one piece of advice from the doctor.

“Why don’t you try writing? Don’t just be satisfied with wandering in your mind; bring it into the real world. It will help a lot.”

I had no motivation for real life, but hearing those words made me want to try something new.

‘I’ve always failed before, but will this time be different?’

I was curious.

Could I really bring the vivid virtual world that appeared when I closed my eyes into reality? Could I write a novel now?

In my mind, there were so many interesting and diverse characters, each living in different backgrounds.

How exciting would it be to combine their stories in the most ideal way?

I smiled.

That’s how my creative life began, so simply.

‘It’s so much fun.’

Writing was smooth and even enjoyable.

When I spoke, the notebook automatically recorded the content.

I kept writing unless I needed to hydrate my dry mouth or take a short break due to fatigue.

I took a break from work and focused on writing using the money I had saved.

I can confidently say it was the most enjoyable period of my life.

*

‘I did it.’

In just one year, I completed a staggering 100 works. They varied in genre, length, and content, but to me, each one was a friend, a family member, and a part of myself.

“……”

The day after I finished my 100th work, I took my first full day off since I started writing.

It might sound strange to call it a “life review,” but as I rested, all the works I had written passed through my mind one by one.

Although I never had the time to reread them, I remembered every word clearly.

‘I wrote these works. I’m amazing.’

I felt incredibly proud and my heart swelled with emotion.

That night, when I lay down to sleep, I was incredibly happy.

…And I never opened my eyes again.

I had died.

*

When I woke up, I felt incredibly refreshed. My body felt so light and full of energy, as if I had slept very well.

Of course, I had never experienced such a feeling before. As a person with full-body paralysis, I always felt heavy, like a waterlogged sponge.

“Hmm…”

Until just a moment ago, I didn’t understand what such a feeling was like.

But now, I understand it very well.

I got out of bed with a serious expression.

“Holy Shit.”

That’s right. I had unknowingly ‘gotten out of bed’ and fluently spoke English, which I had never properly learned.

It was hard to accept that I, who had just died, had been reborn with such a vigorous body.

But what shocked me the most was something else.

It’s something that all strong men experience, but I had never experienced it in my previous life...

“W, Why is this so big??”

A completely unfamiliar sight unfolded before my eyes.

American Physical Genius 2