My name is Kang Joon-Woo, and this is where my story starts.

It was 2004 in a quiet little town called Geochang, South Korea. Picture a peaceful village nestled in the valleys, with rice fields stretching like green waves and hills rising like sleepy giants. A place where tractors are more common than smartphones, and folks still shout greetings across the road.

On a bright spring morning, the air smelled of fresh earth, garlic, and wildflowers. Chickens clucked, dogs barked, and somewhere, a radio played a trot song from the 80s. Grandmas sat outside on low plastic chairs, peeling garlic and gossiping like it was their life's mission.

Suddenly—

A man sprinted down the dusty road like a cartoon character late for his wedding. Arms flailing, sweat flying, one sandal half-off.

"YAH, MR. KANG!" called out an old man tuning a rusty motorbike. "Is the baby here yet?"

Mr. Kang, mid-run, yelled back, "I was on my way, but my dumb tractor broke down! That's why I'm running like a maniac!"

The old man chuckled and waved his rag. "Aigoo! Well, tell me later—boy or girl?"

Mr. Kang shouted, "I will! Just don't kick the bucket before I get back!"

Then he vanished around the corner, leaving behind only a trail of dust and panic.

---

At the hospital...

The automatic doors flung open like he'd just entered an action movie. Mr. Kang exploded inside, dodging a mop bucket, sliding on the polished floor like a baseball player diving to home plate.

He crashed into the counter.

"Nurse—ha… ha… is the baby—"

The nurse didn't flinch. She raised one hand like a seasoned general. "Sir. Deep breaths. In. Out. Now—what's the name and details?"

Still panting, Mr. Kang rapidly listed everything—his wife's full name, her resident ID, blood type, favorite drama, even her preferred kimchi brand.

The nurse blinked. "Uh… okay. Yes, sir. Your baby just arrived… a healthy baby boy."

Mr. Kang froze. His eyes sparkled like he'd won the lottery.

"YES!! A BOY! THANK YOU, UNIVERSE!!"

In his excitement, he accidentally dropped the hospital register. It hit the floor with a dramatic BANG.

"Oh no—sorry, sorry!" He scrambled to pick it up, bowing at the nurse like five times. "And my wife? Which room is she in?"

"Room 445."

"THANK YOU!" he cried, already sprinting away—then paused, spun around, and fished out a crumpled gift bag from inside his jacket. "Please give these snacks to the staff! Tell them: Kang's baby is here!"

---

He burst into Room 445 like a war hero returning from the frontlines.

His wife, pale and radiant, was propped up on the bed, holding a tiny bundle swaddled in soft blue blankets.

"You made it," she said gently.

He dropped to his knees beside her. "How are you? Are you okay? Is this—our son?"

She nodded with tears in her eyes. "He's perfect."

Before Mr. Kang could reply, a loud voice boomed from behind the curtain.

"THAT'S MY BABY!"

Mr. Kang's soul left his body.

"Huh?!" he blinked.

Then a woman's voice chimed in, "Yobo! I'm here! This is our baby!"

Confused, Mr. Kang tiptoed to the curtain, heart pounding, and slowly pulled it aside—

Only to see another couple on the other side… with their own newborn.

He bowed so fast he nearly headbutted the floor. "AH! So sorry! I thought—uh, your baby boy is… very cute!"

The new father gave him a death glare. "It's a girl."

"Even cuter!" Mr. Kang whimpered, backing away like a dog that just got caught chewing a shoe.

He returned to his wife's bedside, face flushed. "So much happened on the way here…"

She burst out laughing. "Well, you're here now. That's what counts."

---

The two of them looked down at their tiny son. Eyes shut tight, cheeks puffed like mochi, fists curled up like he was ready to box the world.

"This is Kang Joon-Woo," she said proudly.

Mr. Kang reached out, gently touching the baby's cheek. His fingers trembled. "He's really… mine."

Suddenly—

A pen rolled off the side table and landed on the floor.

Their baby's tiny hand reached out like a hawk snatching prey.

"AH! NO, NO, that's dangerous!" his mom shouted.

"Give that to Appa, come on!" Mr. Kang pleaded, crawling to intercept.

But baby Joon-Woo, focused like a man on a mission, gripped the pen with impressive control… and brought it down to the hospital form beside him.

SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH.

Lines. Curves. Wobbly Hangul. Doodles with purpose.

"HE'S WRITING!" his wife screamed.

Mr. Kang's eyes widened so far they almost fell out. "A baby's not supposed to do this until three!"

"Even then, they just draw spaghetti lines!" she cried.

He lunged for the pen, carefully pried it from Joon-Woo's grip. The baby let out a tiny offended cry, like a betrayed artist.

Mr. Kang looked at the paper, squinting.

"…Joon… Woo?"

They both stared.

Then screamed in unison,

"WHAT IS THIS?!"

A moment of stunned silence filled the room.

Somewhere in the distance… a fly buzzed by.

Then the baby yawned like nothing happened—

—and reached for another pen.

---

To Be Continued…