A Nobel Prize-worthy hair loss treatment
Clack, clack, clack, clackclackclack,,,,,
"Yes, Salgop-nim, the Shovel feature has been updated. Please review."
"OK"
"Developer, this won't upload — looks like a bug?"
"AAAAAAARGH"
Huff, huff — thank God, it was a dream.
I've been having nightmares like this often since launching the Shovel platform.
When I first started Shovel, it was all joy and excitement. But once we actually launched, the reality of running a platform turned out to be brutal. I pour blood and sweat into earning users' love, but the moment a single bug shows up, the sheer terror and stress make my hair fall out in clumps.
These days, mealtime is when I'm happiest. When I eat after finishing a hard day's work, all the random thoughts, worries, and anxieties vanish. Maybe I was born to eat. When I browse Shovel while eating, I sometimes think, 'Am I really allowed to be this happy?' Today, while waiting for pizza delivery, I discovered Bloodhound Express on Shovel. Bloodhound? My English isn't great, so I quickly opened the Nxver dictionary. Apparently it means a large dog used for tracking people. I'm not sure exactly, but the wiki says they deliver anything.
I already had a hunch. Haven't we all seen this before? They claim to provide everything, but each item surely comes with massive side effects — it was so predictable. I was already smirking as I scrolled through the shovels.
'Obviously these are people who ordered stuff and got burned lolololol'
But it was the opposite of what I expected. Sure, there were reactions like 'how is this possible' and 'is this some dark portal' — but the reviews were overwhelmingly positive.
If nothing else, this tagline was really impressive: "Even if it's not in the catalog, don't worry. We can deliver anything."
Does this even make sense? No matter how advanced technology and science get, can something like this actually exist?
Custom items were pricey, but judging from the reviews, this wasn't some AI gimmick or part-timer operation.
So as a gamble, I first searched for a robot that codes for you. But it didn't exist. Then an AI developer — that didn't exist either. "What DO they have?" Then again, if something like that existed, every developer on the planet would be out of a job. Browsing the site more, I found a button: "Request an Item" The request form had a field where you could describe features, and amazingly, the price updated in real-time as you typed.
First I tried requesting an AI robot that implements whatever features I describe — but the price shot past 10 million won. 'At this rate I'll end up homeless building Shovel.' Next, a coding AI — but that was also in the millions. Even when a revolutionary platform exists, the broke can't afford to use it. So I thought, well, if I can't get someone to code for me, at least let me save my hair — and searched for a hair loss cure. The price came up: 142,000 won.
142,000 won is very expensive for medicine, but I figured it wouldn't be a total loss even if it was a scam. It was suspicious that they showed the price but no photo, but at that price, it felt like a gamble worth taking.
The moment I pressed the purchase button, ding-dong — the doorbell rang. Did the pizza I ordered earlier arrive already? I went out and found a package labeled Bloodhound sitting at my feet.
Goosebumps shot up my arms and a massive thrill surged through me. The reviews were real. I get this feeling sometimes — like cresting the peak of a roller coaster right before the drop — when I'm extremely excited or a groundbreaking idea strikes.
"This is absolutely insane?"
Over 3,000 years of medical advancement had pushed the average human lifespan to nearly 1,000 years, yet no hair loss cure had been developed. Yet here, with a single click, in one second flat, a Nobel Prize-worthy hair loss treatment was sitting at my doorstep. I was curious about the ingredients, but as a developer, I couldn't let it slide without figuring out how anyone delivers that fast. I pulled the SD card from my security camera and scrubbed through the footage — and my jaw dropped. Frame by frame, nothing in one frame, and in the very next frame a box suddenly appears at my door. No person, drone, animal, robot, vehicle — no trace of anything.
Something felt off, but the delivery matched the reviews exactly. Thinking 'surely I won't die from taking it,' I opened the box. An ordinary pill bottle from a pharmaceutical company I'd never seen. The pill was labeled BH — seemed like short for Bloodhound. Unlike normal bottles with multiple pills, this bottle contained just a single pill.
'They run a pharmaceutical company too?'
I got some water and took the pill. Since there was already a big bald spot in the middle of my head, I'd be able to tell clearly whether the treatment worked or not. After taking it, an overwhelming drowsiness hit me. "Wait, this isn't what I think it is, right?" My body went limp and I collapsed onto the sofa.
When I opened my eyes, it was nighttime. Thinking I'd taken a nap, I checked the time — it was the next night. I had slept for nearly 30 hours. Grateful to be alive with my eyes open, I suddenly wondered if the medicine had worked and looked in the bathroom mirror.
Good Lord — the big bald spot in the middle was filled in. But honestly, year 3xxx hair growth products can do that much. People with full heads of hair wouldn't understand, but if you're losing it, you can tell the difference the second you shower. Since I'd already slept 30 hours and was guaranteed to get nagged by Salgop-nim anyway, I went to shower with peace of mind.
I focused especially hard on shampooing. Amazingly, I kept checking my hands as I shampooed — not a single strand of hair was falling out.
Overcome with emotion, I was about to write a review on Bloodhound when these thoughts rushed in.
Why isn't this company releasing this drug to the market? Why are they offering it at such a cheap price without even patenting it?
I opened another tab and started investigating the company called Bloodhound further...
