Providence Relic (3)

Over a soft ambient soundtrack, the final scene of the 120% Handmade Wallet: The Full Production Video was playing. A logo engraved with the word PROVIDENCE and the lantern—the sacred symbol of the Providence Church—had been pressed into the wallet itself, a finishing touch that lent the piece an air of quiet nobility.

It was seductive enough that a viewer who'd opened with, Providence? Where did this no-name knockoff brand crawl out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from? would pivot mid-sentence to, ...Hmm. That brand's going to be a household luxury name before long. Should I buy in at the bottom while I still can?

The problem was that they only ever made one. In exchange, a new video went up every time—a wallet with a different feel, a different shape. And it wasn't just wallets. There were videos of bags being made as well.

Other artisans appeared too—crafting furniture, assembling watches, painting canvases, carving sculptures. Every single stage of every production process was uploaded in full to YouXube (the eating, sleeping, resting, and waiting segments edited out, but otherwise the complete footage).

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

People bewitched by fifteen-second clips on Shorts, Reels, and TikX came flooding in for the full versions.

Trust. Providence Relic's defining edge was, above all, trust. It stood in glaring contrast to the existing luxury houses, where most of the production happened in Southeast Asia and Europe contributed nothing more than a quick slap of finishing work and a label.

And so everyone who watched the videos found themselves yearning for a one-of-a-kind true luxury. The problem was that these masterpieces were sold by auction only. Membership only, no exceptions. The auctions were streamed online, but to actually purchase a piece, you had to register as a member and participate in the bidding yourself.

Even then, most people simply thought the young brand was overreaching by having artisans hand-craft a mere handful of pieces. Come to think of it, handmade works crafted start to finish by a single master were hardly rare. You could still buy them at craft workshops today. So everyone assumed Providence's auction would amount to much the same thing.

They were wrong.

The day of the auction arrived. Korea's quietly formidable upper crust turned out in force at the auction house. Some attended in person; others sent proxies.

Roughly twenty percent of those attending the auction were foreigners.

The competition was savage. From the very first bid, the numbers were being tossed around in units of a hundred million won.

The general public, ignorant of what a sacred relic actually was, interpreted the whole affair through a thoroughly modern lens.

I have to own it. No matter what.

That's a sacred relic imbued with my mother's divine power!

But the people actually seated in the auction hall saw it differently. To a man, they were high-ranking Provians who believed in the Providence Church.

That wallet truly does hold divinity!

One billion? We're at the bottom of the market—buy the dip!

A finance guy making aggressive plays like me absolutely NEEDS that wallet! Mother! Grant me strength!

The price climbed in hundred-million-won increments.

The wallet of fortunate providence—the very first lot ever offered at a Providence Relic auction—sold for 3.5 billion won.

This is the absolute limit of what someone at my level can manage.

Anything past 3.5 billion feels excessive. And it's not as though that's the only relic out there.

As Providence grows its congregation, more relics will keep being born. I'll bid with that in mind!

Of course, by then plenty more rich people will have heard of Providence. The key is forecasting future supply and demand...

Come to think of it—Korea's genuinely rich, the chaebol families—where are they? A few of them know about Providence, don't they?

If the chaebol had shown up, there'd be another zero on that final price. Are they running a separate auction for that crowd?

Well, without the chaebol I don't need to strain myself. Everyone here looks to be at roughly my level anyway.

The attendees bid away, each running private calculations behind their calm faces.

"Honey! For our son's education, we absolutely MUST buy that chair!"

"That blockhead will sit in that chair and plunge straight into his games instead of his books. He gave up on the Holy Water diffuser too, you know."

"HONEY!!"

"Ugh... fine. I'll put a bid in, for now."

The auction remained neck and neck from there on out.

"Wouldn't that chair be perfect when I need to focus on work?"

"A writer like me needs that chair. No question!"

"Every single piece is artwork that will hold historical value one day. And there's divine power bound up in them on top of that? A better investment than most gold, if you ask me."

The exquisite works of the Pardner artisans—and the subtle divine power presumed to dwell within them—drove the auction's attendees half-mad.

Providence Relic's inaugural auction ended in resounding triumph.

The media gave the auction substantial coverage as well.

None of it was exactly favorable press. The Providence Foundation, which preferred to keep a low profile, didn't even need to whisper in anyone's ear. The media tore into them entirely of their own accord. As shields went, cult and money laundering were wonderfully sturdy ones.

"Here you are—1.5 billion won after fees and assorted deductions, Pardner Lee Jin-han."

"I see."

Whenever a piece sold at a premium, half the hammer price went straight into the artisan's account.

"That's an enormous sum deposited all at once. Are you not delighted?"

"I am. Hahahaha."

And yet, strangely, the Pardner artisans of Providence Relic reacted to news of their works selling for record sums with utter indifference.

"I would like to donate the money I received this time to the Providence Foundation."

"I will donate mine as well. I have no attachment to money."

"Had the Firstborn Son not deigned to grant us our stigmata, all of this would have amounted to nothing but a mirage."

"As Providence wills! All things, as Providence wills!"

They even went so far as to donate every won they earned, keeping back only enough cash for daily living.

"Brother Pardners, if you keep this up, our Foundation is going to look like some vampire leech sucking the blood of master craftsmen."

Lee Seop was genuinely troubled by the phenomenon.

"Then let us do this! The Foundation will hold your money in trust. Think of it as a bank deposit!"

And so, after a fierce(?) tug-of-war with the utterly immovable Pardners, they settled on the deposit arrangement.

"Oh! Master Fujimoto! Might I use this desk?"

"Of course, Cleric Heo Yuna."

"Thank you so much!"

"The honor is entirely mine—to have you, Yuna, use a desk I built with my own hands."

For the artisans, having a member of the Providence clergy use their creations brought them far greater joy than watching those same creations go under the hammer.

"These are... rather a heavy burden, aren't they? I know perfectly well that Pardner Lee Jin-han pulled two all-nighters making these shoes. No wonder he suddenly asked after my shoe size."

"It would be an honor if you would wear them, Elder Heo Jae-soo."

"Dear me... Then I shall wear these to every important gathering from now on."

"As Providence wills—all things, as Providence wills."

The clergy of the Providence Church were perpetually at a loss over the sacred items the Pardner artisans kept pressing into their hands between projects.

"AAAAAH! Lee Seop is wearing the bracelet I made! He's wearing MY bracelet!"

"Good heavens! I am so jealous!"

"With that, Pardner Jean Petit needn't worry about his Creation Points for a good while."

Of all honors, the greatest was the Firstborn Son himself wearing something you had made.

"Creation Points! These cursed Creation Points are truly, truly hard to maintain!"

There was a reason the Pardners wailed like this in chorus.

The clergy who had advanced to Pardner received a status window slightly different from that of ordinary Clerics. The difference was the Creation Point. Where other classes earned and maintained Faith Points, Pardners had to fill their Creation Point gauge instead.

And what happened if that gauge fell below a certain threshold? Their stigmata would be revoked, or their believer rank demoted. For a Pardner, there existed no graver sin against the faith.

"Please! Let this piece NOT go to the auction house!"

"Any member of the clergy, anyone at all! Please, wear my work!"

"Hosanna! O Mother! Mamma mia! My painting has been hung in the Central Temple!!"

And the single most reliable way to refill a Creation Point gauge was for the Providence Church itself to put their sacred works to use. Only when a sculpture, a building, or a painting entered a Providence facility—only when clergy actually wore and used their relics—did the gauge climb in gratifying leaps.

"The spotlight is excessive once again, Lee Seop."

"The publicity has done its work, so let's stop broadcasting the auctions from now on. The Noblesse members' auction should go private, just like the Excelsior members'."

"Understood."

Membership in the new-normal luxury brand Providence Relic was divided in two: the Noblesse members of respectable upper-class standing, and the Excelsior members of the true elite. The sacred relics that came up for auction were broadly similar, but the two tiers bid in different times, in different spaces. It was a considered arrangement meant to prevent any single chaebol from sweeping the floor with every lot—though to the public, it apparently looked like divide-and-conquer marketing.

"Sometimes I do wonder whether this is right, Lee Seop."

"O, an excellent posture. Doubt is a good thing."

"We are clergy in name, and yet lately I feel we've grown rather too eager around money."

"Legitimate commerce and the pursuit of profit are things the Mother herself encourages."

"Aha! So it was something the Mother sanctioned all along!"

At my words, Heo Jae-soo promptly pulled out his notebook and began jotting them down. Apparently the doctrine and the Scripture of Providence were about to gain an addendum.

"It is so. We merely take money from the rich and put it to better use. Wealth redistribution, if you will."

The rich gained sacred relics imbued with divine power, and were glad of it. We saw the labors of our Pardner brothers honored on a grand scale, and were glad of it. And the proceeds built temples and aided those in need. Not a single person lost out—a world in which everyone won.

"Heard out in full, that sounds like genuinely righteous thinking."

"Still, ordinary rank-and-file believers deserve a chance at relics too. Let's add sacred relics to the raffle prize pool. And let's propose that baptized believers install the app as well."

"As Providence wills—all things, as Providence wills."

Elder Heo Jae-soo, visibly moved by my answer, crossed himself.

Having finished my conversation with Elder Heo Jae-soo, I checked my status window.

Just as they say money begets money, believers beget believers. Once I'd passed ten thousand regular believers and advanced to Oracle, the growth in my congregation turned dramatic.

It exploded after the global version of Raising a Clergy launched.

The overseas expansion had been the true trigger. Things had since settled into a lull, but there was a stretch when the numbers climbed by the thousands daily—sometimes by the tens of thousands.

The problem is that devout believers dominate the ratio even in the global version. Even now, the pace of regular believers converting into devout ones keeps accelerating.

I had launched the global version earlier than planned precisely because I wanted to grow the regular believer count. But perhaps because this world had no divine power of its own, the devout ratio stayed stubbornly high there too.

So I'm stuck filling that two million no matter what, aren't I?

When it came to devout believers, I had in effect already met the advancement condition.

I clicked my tongue.