He meticulously counted the bills, organizing them into neat stacks. "One thousand won… five thousand won… ten thousand won… fifty thousand won…," he muttered, feeling like a character in a bad movie about a down-on-his-luck guy who suddenly wins the lottery. Except, he hadn't won the lottery. He had traded a wrench for a small fortune. Which, when he thought about it, was kind of like winning the lottery, but with more manual labor and less probability.

"Forty-eight million four hundred thousand won," he announced to the empty room, the grand total echoing slightly. He paused, remembering his… culinary explorations in Aethel. "Plus, let's say a couple million for the… exquisite dining experiences. So, roughly fifty million won. Not bad. Not bad at all for a day's work. If by 'day's work' you mean 'traipsing through a magical portal and haggling with potentially unscrupulous merchants.'"

He grinned. He was rich! Well, not exactly rich. More like… comfortably well-off. He could definitely afford a decent kimchi jjigae now. And maybe a new pair of shoes. And… well, he hadn't really thought beyond that. He had been too focused on simply surviving, on turning his grief into something… productive. Now, he had to figure out what to do with his newfound wealth.

"First things first," he declared, "Operation: Spice King of Aethel commences tomorrow!"

He decided to return to Aethel in the morning. His immediate goal was to stock up on spices. He envisioned himself as a culinary ambassador, bringing the joys of flavorful food to the bland palates of Aethel. He pictured villagers weeping with joy as they tasted the spicy goodness of his imported seasonings. He imagined himself becoming a legend, a hero, a… well, a very well-paid hero.

"Okay, spices," he muttered, grabbing a notebook and a pen. "What kind of spices do they have in Aethel? Fire Dust, obviously. What else? Hmm… maybe some… Earth Dust? Wind Dust? Rainbow Dust? I should probably learn the Aethellian names for these things. And I'll need containers. Lots of containers. And… a good carrying bag. Maybe I can find a magical one. One that can hold infinite spices. Or at least a lot of spices. And… what else?"

He scribbled furiously in his notebook, his mind buzzing with ideas. He needed to be organized. He was a businessman now, a spice tycoon in the making. He couldn't just wander into Aethel and hope for the best. He needed a plan.

"And what about other products?" he mused. "What else can I bring from Earth that they don't have in Aethel? Maybe… instant coffee? They probably don't have instant coffee. And… maybe some… socks? Everyone needs socks. And… definitely some… nail clippers. Those are always useful. And… what else?"

He continued to brainstorm, his list growing longer and longer. He was like a kid in a candy store, except the candy was… trade goods. He was so excited about the possibilities, about the potential, that he almost forgot about the fifty million won sitting on his living room floor.

He finally put down his pen, his notebook filled with ideas. He was tired, but it was a good tired. It was the tired of someone who had a purpose, someone who had a plan. It was a far cry from the bone-deep exhaustion of grief.

He gathered up his newfound fortune, stuffing the bills into a large envelope. He hid it under his mattress, a temporary solution until he could figure out what to do with it. He would need a bank account. A big bank account. Maybe he should hire an accountant. And a financial advisor. And maybe a bodyguard. Just in case. You never knew what kind of shady characters were attracted to sudden wealth.

He yawned, his eyelids feeling heavy. All this planning, all this excitement, had taken its toll. He decided to call it a night. He changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed.

As he lay there in the darkness, his mind still buzzing with ideas, he felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. He was no longer just Ji-woo, the grieving son. He was Ji-woo, the merchant, the traveler, the spice king of Aethel. He had a purpose, a plan, a future. And it all started with a bowl of ramen and a portal to another dimension.

He closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to Aethel, to the bustling marketplace, to the wizened spice merchant with the twinkling eyes. He smiled. He had a feeling that his adventures were just beginning.

And then, for the first time since his parents' death, Ji-woo slept. He slept soundly, peacefully, without nightmares, without grief, without the crushing weight of despair. He slept, dreaming of spices, and riches, and… surprisingly comfortable socks.