Chapter 70: Understanding ADHD: Traits, Challenges, and Growth

When people ask what ADHD is, most imagine the same stereotype: restless kids who can’t sit still.

Of course, that isn’t wrong—those behaviors are part of ADHD. But ADHD has many forms.

Take “quiet ADHD,” for example. These individuals aren’t visibly restless. They focus well—so well, in fact, that they won’t notice someone calling them while they’re engrossed in a book.

Because of this, many with quiet ADHD live their entire lives without realizing they have it.

“I can focus just fine,” they think.

“I write well too. Why would I have ADHD?” They remain unaware that one of ADHD’s hallmarks is hyperfocus.

These same people might frequently leave umbrellas in taxis, zone out mid-conversation, or forget to write a thank-you note for a donation to their serialized work—only remembering it just before bed.

Then they scramble to edit the pre-scheduled chapter to add the acknowledgment.

Despite all these signs, they don’t suspect ADHD because they excel in certain areas of focus.

Understanding these nuances is crucial. Knowledge allows us to take action.

“So,” Paepae began.

“Yes?” I replied.

“Are you saying she has ADHD?”

“She’s borderline.”

“…I’m sorry.”

As Paepae and I talked, a turtle-themed avatar of a young woman, Chae Narin, kept bowing her head apologetically.

She had been 30 minutes late logging into the VR room, and only after I reminded her.

The guilt was written all over her face.

Paepae tilted her head. “Okay, but what does ADHD have to do with being late?”

“ADHD often comes with time blindness. They struggle to perceive time accurately, which is why it’s sometimes called ‘time agnosia.’ They’re also overly optimistic, thinking things like, ‘Five minutes will be enough,’ even though it actually takes at least 30.”

“But we’re not meeting in real life,” Paepae argued. “Logging into the VR room takes one second. What about that would make her 30 minutes late?”

“Her voice doesn’t sound like she just woke up. And we weren’t meeting outside, so it’s not about underestimating travel time. My guess? She was watching MiTube and lost track of time. That’s pretty common for people with ADHD.”

“…I’m sorry.”

As I explained ADHD to Paepae, Chae Narin looked as though she might die from shame.

“It’s fine. I get it,” I reassured her. “Instead of always being late, Chae Narin agreed to carry us in games. Paepae and I can just nap while she handles it.”

“…I’ll log in an hour early next time,” Chae Narin vowed.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. ADHD makes it hard to be on time,” I said.

“…Even if it means staying at Yurim’s place, I’ll make sure to keep it.”

With a determined voice, Chae Narin declared her intent.

Bunnyrun, however, cut in coldly, “No.”

“Why do you get to answer that? People will think we’re roommates,” Chae Narin shot back.

“Doesn’t matter. The answer’s still no. And stop calling her Yurim unnie like you’re close or something.”

“Well, you called her unnie the first time you met her too!”

Bunnyrun had done so while drunk, but wasn’t Chae Narin similarly intoxicated—albeit by dopamine? For someone inherently low on dopamine, this situation must feel incredibly stimulating. I decided to let it slide.

With a benevolent smile, I turned to Chae Narin.

Paepae, scratching her forehead, asked, “So, is Narin any good physically? The main carry needs to have solid mechanics.”

“One ADHD trait is hyperfocus. When she enters that state, her gameplay mechanics will amaze even you.”

“Then why is she stuck in Iron rank? If her mechanics are that good, her brain would have to be mush for her to stay there.”

“Her hyperfocus lasts five seconds. Think of Ichigo from Bleach when he first learned hollowfication.”

“This is a nightmare.”

The five-second “hollowfication” gameplay of Chae Narin could easily be improved. All we had to do was increase the duration of her hyperfocus.

If she could maintain it for even ten seconds during a team fight, she’d become absurdly powerful.

Moss interjected, sounding puzzled. “Is that even possible?”

“In modern society, ADHD is treated like an illness, but it’s actually more like a temperament. In hunter-gatherer societies, it was seen as a leadership trait. Depending on how it’s managed, ADHD can be turned into a strength. Of course, if the symptoms are severe, medication might be necessary. But most people with mild ADHD—who don’t even realize they have it—can manage it themselves.”

“How? Sheer willpower?”

“Willpower is a myth,” I scoffed. “You have to create an environment that triggers the right hormones.”

Moss seemed amazed, likely overwhelmed by my profound insights as a super-developer.

“So… I’m ADHD too?”

Or maybe not.

“You didn’t know?” I asked, surprised.

“How could I be ADHD? I passed the CPA exam! How would I sit still long enough to study?”

“That’s a stereotype. Let me guess—you have a daily routine, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t everyone?”

“No, most people don’t. And they don’t lose their entire day to brain fog if they break their routine.”

“They don’t?”

“Nope.”

Moss looked like his world had just crumbled.

Truth can be brutal like that.

I calmly continued my explanation.

“Do you often leave your umbrella in the store’s umbrella stand and just walk out?”

“Is that also an ADHD trait?”

“When you were a kid, didn’t you often climb to the top of the jungle gym at the playground?”

“Is that also an ADHD trait?”

“When we first met, you made a paper airplane out of the receipt at the café. As soon as I saw that, I was certain.”

“Wait a second. So, when you said, ‘People with ADHD can’t refuse requests. Even when they’re busy to the point of exhaustion, they’ll just say yes if someone asks to meet. Now, do you understand why I didn’t call you?’—you weren’t just spouting nonsense; you actually meant it?”

Finally, the truth dawned on Moss.

Moss, mouth agape in shock.

I patted the stunned Moss on the shoulder.

“Still, you managed to come up with a routine without any prior knowledge. Pretty impressive for someone as clueless as you.”

“How do you know all this so well?”

“Why do you think?”

“Ah, I see.”

I used to struggle quite a bit myself, but after serving in the military, the symptoms disappeared completely.

Ah, the wonders of military service.

How remarkable must the experience be to rewire even your brain?

As my conversation with Moss wrapped up, Bunnyrun hopped over energetically and asked,

“What about me?”

“ADHD isn’t a superpower. Don’t ask in a tone that makes it sound like you’re being left out.”

“What about me?”

“You didn’t seem to have it, but lately, I’m not so sure.”

Particularly when it came to impulsiveness.

“Hehe.”

Seriously, ADHD isn’t a superpower.

Don’t be happy about it.

“…Excuse me.”

Chae Narin cautiously raised her hand and asked,

“…How can I control ‘Horohwa’?”

“It’s ‘Yurimhwa.’”

“…I want to completely master Yurimhwa.”

“It’s a long journey. You might want to give up halfway.”

“…I want to become like Yurim unnie.”

At those words, Bunnyrun spoke in an icy tone.

“You can’t.”

“As I said earlier, why are you the one deciding this, Bunnyrun? If someone saw, they might think you’re my manager.”

“Anyway, you can’t. And since when did you start calling her Yurim unnie?”

“Do you also enjoy running gags, Bunnyrun?”

Perhaps intrigued by the banter, ChocoBun raised his hand and joined in.

“Is it possible for me to learn Yurimhwa as well?”

“You lack the potential, ChocoBun. It’s impossible.”

First playing a game at 20 years old?

That just means you never procrastinated while studying, so how could you possibly have ADHD?

No way.

Clap.

I clapped my hands to bring order to the situation and extended my right hand forward, declaring,

“I’ll assign tasks to the two of you. ChocoBun, you don’t need to bother with solo ranks for now. Just practice moving your character naturally in training mode.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Chae Narin, start by creating a routine.”

“…Understood.”

“And.”

I shared various methods with Chae Narin to help her control Yurimhwa: how to build a routine, activate focus circuits with deep breathing, and conserve her concentration.

“For now, avoid watching MeTube. If you start, you’ll end up draining all your focus there.”

“…None at all?”

“None at all. It’s best not to listen to music either.”

That should help to some extent.

Paepae, who had been listening in on our conversation, sighed beside me.

“One moves their character more rigidly than a wooden doll, and the other only has good reflexes for five seconds. Seriously, where do you even find these people?”

“If you thought Iron-tier teammates would be competent, that’s a big mistake, Paepae.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just give them medication?”

“Even though Concerta has almost no side effects, it’s still a drug. They’ve managed fine without it so far, so it feels unnecessary to start now. Especially for someone like Chae Narin, who got into Korea University.”

“…Wait, how did you know I go to Korea University—”

“You can just tell by looking.”

As I said, ADHD is more of a temperament. Of course, if the symptoms are severe, medication is necessary. But in hunter-gatherer societies, it was also considered a leadership trait. Depending on how you use it… (rest omitted).

“Oh, Chae Narin. Still, you should visit a hospital for an evaluation.”

“…Huh?”

“You never know.”

If all of this doesn’t work, what choice would you have left?

You’d need to take medication.

And since medication requires a proper diagnosis, it’s better to prepare in advance.

I smiled and said,

“Moss will recommend a good place for you. Don’t worry.”

“I’ve always wondered, why do you keep asking me for favors? I’m not some kind of all-purpose problem solver.”

By the way, Chae Narin ultimately visited the hospital Moss recommended for an evaluation.

All-purpose solver, indeed.

Why does he keep denying it?