Is This... New York?
Donovan stared blankly at the tablet screen.
Gazing at the dense parade of zeros packing the screen, Donovan muttered under his breath.
"...Money can just... copy itself?"
Put option profits: thirty million dollars.
Commission reward: five million.
Total: thirty-five million dollars.
A fortune amounting to roughly fifty billion won had landed in his account.
"Insane..."
A hollow laugh slipped from Donovan's lips.
Behind him, Cole—who had been peering at the screen over his shoulder—already had his mouth hanging wide open, with no sign of closing it anytime soon.
"M-Mr. Donovan... I-Is this real?"
Even Cole, who had weathered every storm imaginable, couldn't help but be stunned by the sum.
Donovan answered in a dazed voice.
"...It's real. It all just got deposited."
"Hah... W-What on earth are you going to do with this enormous amount of money?"
Donovan turned off the tablet and slowly opened his mouth.
"Cole. Have you ever gone building shopping?"
"...No, I haven't. Actually, most people haven't."
"Right. I've never gone shopping for one either."
But now?
"Let's do it today. I'll throw in a free room, so think of it as your own place and shop with me. How about it?"
In that instant, a lightning-like spark lit up Cole's previously blank eyes.
He had learned something while following Donovan around.
When opportunity comes, you have to enjoy it to the fullest.
The chance to go building shopping had arrived, and he'd even been invited—so all that was left was to seize it.
"I'm ready, Mr. Donovan."
At Cole's reply, which even carried a hint of solemnity, Donovan snickered and took the lead.
"Great, let's go. From now on, don't call me Mr. Donovan—call me 'Landlord.'"
"Yes! Understood, Landlord!"
"Ha! After all, above the Creator sits the Landlord. Let's start by buying this whole one-dollar fortune-telling shop building!"
With thirty-five million dollars sitting in the account, there was nothing in the world to fear.
Even in the heart of New York, he firmly believed that slamming down fifty billion won in cash would let him swagger around as a landlord.
Donovan and Cole headed toward the real estate office with imposing confidence.
But.
It didn't take long for that bold spirit to be utterly shattered.
"...What? How much?"
A large real estate brokerage office in central Manhattan.
Donovan, who had been leaning back on the sofa, suddenly lurched forward.
The elite real estate agent sitting across from him maintained a perfect sales smile as he carefully repeated what he had just said.
"It starts at a minimum of one hundred fifty million dollars—approximately two hundred billion won—sir."
"...That three-story old building where my shop is?"
"Yes. In truth, rather than the pure value of the building itself, you should consider it due to the billboard attached to the exterior wall."
The agent explained why the building was so absurdly expensive.
"The billboards on Times Square's Main Street generate tens of millions to hundreds of millions in advertising revenue alone per year. And as you know, there isn't a single building on Main Street without an outdoor billboard. Naturally, when they come up for sale, the rights to that billboard revenue are calculated into the package."
The agent manipulated the tablet on the table to bring up a map.
Then he slid his finger from the Main Street where Donovan's shop was located.
"Take a look at the map. You'll need to leave Main Street, cross one road, and come out to this side street before... you can start looking at two- or three-story small commercial buildings within your budget."
"No, I've got thirty-five million dollars. And all I can get is a small shop on a side alley, not even Main Street?"
"Yes. Thirty-five million dollars is, of course, an enormous sum. If this were the Upper East Side, you could have bought a top-tier penthouse in cash and still had money left over."
The smile on the agent's lips deepened further.
"However, this is Times Square. It's a bit... special."
"..."
When Donovan was left speechless, the agent drove the point home.
"So, will you be purchasing a commercial building on the side street?"
In that moment, Donovan resorted to the universal last resort.
"...I'll look around a bit more and come back."
"Yes, sir. I'll be waiting."
In the end, Donovan only managed to freeload a coffee before trudging out of the brokerage.
Cole also followed hurriedly behind, clearing his throat in embarrassment.
Not an upgrade—a downgrade.
There was no point in buying a building like this.
"Ha... life."
Looking up at Manhattan's dense skyscrapers, Donovan muttered emptily.
"I've got thirty-five million dollars, and I can't even buy the one building I'm renting? Just because there's a billboard stuck on it, I have to burn two hundred billion?"
In Korea, this money could have bought a building right in the middle of Gangnam.
"Is this... New York?"
But on Times Square Main Street in New York, it wasn't even close.
"New York real estate prices really are ridiculous."
Cole offered consolation in a sympathetic voice from the side, but it didn't reach Donovan's ears.
Starting at one hundred fifty million dollars?
Becoming a New York landlord truly wasn't easy.
That afternoon.
Ding-.
An unexpected guest opened the shop door and entered.
It was Arthur Wallace, the Yacht King of the East Coast.
"Not only did you save my daughter's life, but you also crushed that massive corporation that dared to touch my family overnight... You are the eternal benefactor of our family."
The moment he entered, Wallace firmly grasped Donovan's hands and bowed his head deeply.
"I've come to keep my promise. That blank check of mine, saying I'd grant you anything you desire."
At those words, Donovan's ears—which had been suffering from a money drought all morning—perked right up.
"About that blank check. Would borrowing money also be possible?"
"Borrow? How cold of you, Benefactor. Just name the amount you desire, and I'll write it out myself."
"Well, the amount is a bit large, you see."
"Just how much do you need to be speaking like this?"
"Uh... roughly about one hundred fifteen million dollars? I was thinking of buying a building on Main Street."
Adding one hundred fifteen million dollars to the thirty-five million Donovan already had would make exactly one hundred fifty million dollars.
The cutoff for a Main Street building.
"..."
For a moment, a brief silence crossed Wallace's face.
One hundred fifteen million dollars.
Even for someone called the Yacht King of the East Coast, simply handing over that much cash from his personal pocket rather than company funds required resolve.
But before he was a seasoned businessman, he was a father who kept his oaths.
To him, his daughter came before the company.
She was more precious than anything else.
He had saved her, and even taken revenge for her.
He had promised to give anything in return.
Going back on his word here would be no different from changing his heart toward his daughter.
"...It truly is an enormous sum, but a promise is a promise. As I first promised, I will write it on a blank check."
A firm, unwavering voice.
Donovan instinctively examined Wallace's face.
He's sincere.
Through Color Reading, his face showed not a single speck of falsehood or regret. There was a solid will to truly hand over one hundred fifty billion if it was for his benefactor.
But then, the very next moment.
"Wh-What?!"
Donovan shot up from his seat in shock.
On Wallace's face, which had been calm until just now, a black, storm-cloud-like aura of great misfortune began pouring down like a waterfall.
It was a sign of a massive calamity that could shake the very foundations of his company.
"Wait, wait a minute! Stop!!"
"What's the matter? I can arrange the money as early as tomorrow..."
"No, your company's about to get wrecked—what money are you giving?! Just lend it to me, lend it!"
When Donovan waved his hands frantically in absolute opposition, Wallace's shoulders flinched.
He had put on a bold front, but given his current business situation, handing over that much money would make things wobble.
He hung his head low in shame and sighed.
"Haa... To have to remain a petty man who can only lend money to the savior of my life... I'm simply sorry that my abilities amount to only this much."
"No, if you just give me one hundred fifteen million dollars outright, the company will go under, I'm telling you? Can't you just lend it?"
"...If Benefactor insists so. I will lend it interest-free with no deadline. Please, do not refuse this at least."
Whoosh-.
In that instant, the black aura of misfortune covering Wallace's face vanished completely, as if it had been a lie.
Confirming that his face had returned to that of a calm, prosperous rich man, Donovan finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Whew, thankfully lending it interest-free is fine. No problems for the company. Your face looks completely at ease now."
"Ahem. Though I cannot give it to you..."
"But, is it okay to just casually lend out a sum as large as one hundred fifteen million dollars like this? I don't even have any collateral."
When Donovan asked, Wallace burst into hearty laughter as if he had never been depressed.
"Hahaha! Is that something a man who crushed a massive IT corporation overnight should say? With that remarkable ability of yours, I know better than anyone that you'll earn that kind of money back in no time and then some."
Wallace grinned and added.
"And to be honest, you saved my daughter. If it really comes to it, I don't care if you never pay it back for the rest of your life!"
"No, I'll pay it back. I'll definitely pay it back, so don't worry."
Donovan clicked his tongue and muttered inwardly.
This old man really is impossible in more ways than one.
A rich man who had been struggling under pressure from a giant corporation.
But a doting father who was willing to risk even the collapse of his company for his daughter's sake.
Inside the shabby fortune-telling shop bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight.
Even though the cutthroat sum of one hundred fifteen million dollars had changed hands, only a strangely warm and pleasant laughter lingered between the two men.
The next day.
Large real estate brokerage office in Manhattan.
The agent sipped his coffee, recalling the young Asian man and the burly bodyguard who had left empty-handed yesterday.
Thirty-five million dollars. It's a large sum, but far from enough to aim for Times Square Main Street.
He was certain they would either give up after hitting the wall of reality, or turn their eyes to properties on the side streets. It was the common path taken by wealthy people tasting New York real estate for the first time.
Ding-.
But the two who had exited bitterly yesterday opened the glass door and entered again.
"Oh, sir. You've already decided..."
The agent's words cut off as he rose from his seat with his capitalist smile equipped.
"Shall we go look at some buildings? Show me everything that's on the market on Main Street."
"Uh... sir? For Main Street, the budget..."
"Ah, don't worry. I filled in the missing money."
The agent scoffed inwardly. It wasn't a small amount—over a hundred million dollars was short. And he'd secured that astronomical sum overnight?
That doesn't make any sense!
Of course it should be considered bluff or a joke. But...
Swoosh.
Donovan wordlessly thrust his tablet screen right in front of the agent's eyes.
"...Pardon?"
"Check the balance. With this much, I can buy a Main Street building, right?"
The agent's gaze locked onto the screen. It was a mobile banking app screen.
The parade of zeros filling the screen. The agent's pupils shook madly at the breath-stopping number.
Even after pushing up his glasses with trembling hands and looking again, it was a real bank VIP account screen—no fabrication or error.
A mad funding power that had deposited an astronomical one hundred fifty billion won in cash into a personal account overnight.
That young Asian man wasn't a bluffer—he was a genuine monster.
When the agent, lost in shock, only trembled without answering readily, Donovan withdrew the tablet and turned without hesitation.
"No. If you still don't believe me even after seeing the account, I'll go elsewhere. Cole, let's go."
"Yes, understood."
The party walked toward the door with knife-like decisiveness, without further questions or arguments. The moment he saw that resolute back—
Catch him! That's the real deal! If I let him go, the biggest commission of my life flies away!
The agent abandoned all dignity and urgently ran to block Donovan's path.
"W-Wait a moment! Sir!!"
He immediately bent his waist at a ninety-degree angle.
"No, sir! It's not that I don't believe you—I just lost my mind for a moment because you brought such an enormous balance overnight! I'll take you to the finest properties right away!"
Looking back at the desperately clinging agent, Donovan let out a snicker. His gaze swept over the agent's face.
"I thought so."
"Pardon?"
"I was wondering why your face seemed fuller of luck than yesterday. So it was because of me."
The agent couldn't fully understand Donovan's peculiar words, but a sharp thrill ran down his spine. Before this inscrutable unknown big shot, he kept bowing his waist repeatedly.
"Alright, let's go."
With Donovan at the lead, the burly bodyguard strode out of the real estate office with imposing confidence.
To go shopping for buildings on Times Square Main Street.
Times Square Main Street.
Donovan walked with his hands clasped behind his back, literally shopping the streets.
"How about that building?"
When Donovan pointed at a building with his chin and asked, the agent following behind tapped his tablet and answered quickly.
"Ah, that place can fit within the budget, but the interior facilities are outdated, so remodeling costs after purchase will add up quite a bit."
"Then that one over there?"
"As you can see, the billboard size there is a bit small for a Main Street property."
Having confirmed that enormous balance of at least one hundred fifty million dollars, the agent's attitude was the very picture of wholehearted sincerity—but Donovan's reaction while checking the properties was lukewarm.
Like someone casually browsing shirts he didn't like at a clothing store, he only nodded his head slightly.
They're all pretty much the same.
Even pushing forward the astronomical sum of one hundred fifty billion won, on Times Square Main Street it was merely the basic cutoff.
The properties around one hundred fifty million dollars the agent showed all had some subtle flaw.
If it's going to be like this, there's no reason to buy somewhere else.
Honestly speaking, they weren't much better than the old Zen Psychic building he was currently renting.
Maybe I should just buy our shop building outright like I originally planned.
If the money was going to be the same either way, occupying his familiar territory might be more comfortable. He didn't want to spend one hundred fifty billion on some so-so building he felt no particular attachment to.
Donovan let out a small sigh and muttered inwardly.
First, I'll sweep through Main Street once, and if nothing really grabs me, I'll just contract for our original shop building.
Having made up his mind and walked about halfway through the remaining distance—
"...Huh?"
Donovan's steps came to an abrupt halt.
The place his gaze settled on was a five-story building that looked pitifully small compared to the surrounding skyscrapers.
It looked quite old in age, but the exterior walls and window frames were managed very cleanly.
Amid the surrounding shops with their dazzling flashing billboards, it gave off a strangely calm and solid atmosphere.
"How about that building? Explain it for me."
The agent who followed Donovan's fingertip showed a slightly flustered expression.
"Ah... that building? Actually, that place fits comfortably within the budget, but for Main Street, it's not a particularly special property. The floors are low at five stories, and the billboard is an older model, so the yield isn't overwhelmingly better than other buildings."
The agent flipped through his tablet and added.
"Of course, the management is done very cleanly, but there's no particular reason to choose that building specifically..."
But the agent's explanation didn't reach Donovan's ears.
An ordinary building with nothing special.
Yet strangely, his gaze kept being sucked toward it.
Just then.
The first-floor glass door of the building opened, and a middle-aged white man walked out.
Donovan's eyes, which had been casually examining the man's face, suddenly widened greatly.
What is this?
The man's physiognomy itself was extremely ordinary. No—looking at his weak jawline and sunken cheeks, it was closer to the face of a weary ordinary citizen far removed from wealth fortune.
Yet bizarrely, through Color Reading, the man's face was overflowing with a dense, vivid golden light of luck so bright it was dazzling.
An overwhelming aura that would only appear on someone who had seized a once-in-a-lifetime great fortune.
A perfect contradiction—born physiognomy was unremarkable, yet the color covering it shone like that of a king.
But then, an unbelievable thing happened.
Thud.
The very instant the man stepped off the building's entrance mat onto the sidewalk.
As if it were a lie, the golden luck covering the man's face vanished completely without a trace.
Like an illusion that had never existed from the start. The man's complexion returned to that of a weary ordinary New Yorker, just as his original physiognomy suggested.
...The aura didn't disappear.
Donovan's eyes narrowed sharply.
It wasn't the man who had been radiating luck. It was that building itself.
Is that what they call a geomantic treasure spot?
Then, the agent opened his mouth as if recognizing the man.
"Ah, the gentleman who just came out is the owner of that building. He said his business hit it big and he's moving to another state, so he put the building up for sale in a great hurry."
The moment he heard the words "building owner," a deep smile rose on Donovan's face. There was no room for doubt.
"This is the building."