Absolute Beginner Dad Episode 51

Auction.

Since the emergence of the Gates, this annual event had been superficially dismissed as merely the "world's largest auction" by most...

But in reality, it had effectively become an exclusive gathering for only the upper echelons steering the global economy.

While thousands participated each year, only a few dozen ever placed bids or walked away with items.

For instance...

Those belonging to long-established Jewish banking dynasties that had meticulously amassed wealth over centuries...

Or members of Saudi Arabian and Abu Dhabi royal families whose private assets were rumored to exceed a trillion dollars.

When particularly useful artifacts for Gate suppression occasionally appeared, various nations' defense departments would often scramble to secure them.

In short...

The Auction had become what one might call "their own private league"—an event where ordinary wealth couldn't even dream of participation.

Yet, a new tycoon had emerged.

This sudden newcomer had instantly overwhelmed one of the auction's dominant forces—the Rothschild family.

"Wow, overpowering the Rothschilds financially..."

"Who is that?"

"Anonymous, but clearly someone with staggering wealth..."

In another private room, an old man's face twisted slightly as he watched.

Mayer Rothschild.

The patriarch of the prestigious Jewish banking dynasty.

"Who is this?"

At his low, smooth inquiry, his hesitant secretary finally answered after some fumbling.

"Apologies, but beyond being a special-tier client of the goblin-run 'Secret Consortium of Wealth' private bank..."

Receiving this vague response, Mayer Rothschild tapped the sofa armrest thoughtfully.

"Given the lack of information, likely some upstart who recently rode the wave to fortune..."

Trailing off, he turned to his secretary again.

"I perceive this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as a blatant provocation. What's your take?"

The secretary nodded gravely.

"Unfortunately, I share your view..."

The 'Spirit's Water Bottle' wasn't valuable enough to fetch eight million dollars.

Its estimated price was three and a half million.

Meaning even Mayer's four million bid was excessive...

'Bidding exactly double clearly signals provocation...'

After a thoughtful "Hmm," Mayer stroked his beard and muttered:

"Perhaps I should personally teach that insolent nouveau riche his place..."

The auction resumed.

As the host gestured, twelve pigment samples appeared onscreen.

All were derived from otherworldly plants, minerals, or stones.

Despite the lengthy descriptions, the audience remained rapt.

Every attendee possessed both artistic expertise and deep appreciation.

"Beautiful colors..."

Kang-jun too listened intently, eyes gleaming.

"I'll get those."

Bong-gu blinked. "Since when were you into art?"

"I'm not."

"Then why bid—"

"Recently discovered Seol has extraordinary artistic talent."

"And?"

"With just store-bought crayons, she creates masterpieces. Imagine what she could do with proper materials."

In short—another gift for Seol.

"Ah..."

The host continued:

Twelve thumb-sized tubes starting over 100 million KRW.

Then:

"Double it."

At Kang-jun's calm order, Kagon submitted the bid.

The venue erupted.

"$150 million?!"

"Are they insane?"

"How much money do they have?!"

Every Rothschild incremental bid was met with Kang-jun's exact doubling.

"Damn it!" Mayer Rothschild slammed his armrest, loosening his tie in fury.

"That absolute madman!"

Converted, over 160 billion KRW.

Even the Rothschilds couldn't justify such expenditure on mere pigments.

Had he bid higher, Kang-jun would've doubled it again—correctly.

Not a single traditional elite secured any items that day.

"For my sister."

"For Crabsley."

"For our Ddongie."

"Ddongie?"

"That, uh, Marbas."

"For Iriel."

Bong-gu watched trillions vanish in moments. "Wow..."

"Bong-gu, my winning strategy—what do you think?"

"Strategy?"

"Yeah—always double."

Bong-gu swallowed his thoughts.

'More like overwhelming wealth crushing everything...'

That evening.

Media outlets buzzed about the mysterious tycoon "Immortal" who swept the auction.

"Damn it!"

Mayer Rothschild hurled his remote at the TV.

"This can't stand..."

If this newcomer targeted the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Elixir, complications would arise.

"I must secure the Elixir..."

He'd learned of an organization backed by absolute beings called "gods"—the Brotherhood.

Their goal: establishing a single-world order comprised solely of elites.

For the Rothschilds to remain relevant in the new world, assimilation was necessary.

'Prove your worth by obtaining the Elixir.'

'Succeed, and you'll be initiated.'

'Fail, and you die.'

He began liquidating assets—stocks, bonds, properties—and borrowing from fellow magnates.

Rumors suggested Immortal was merely a front for the "Secret Consortium."

Otherwise, how could someone amass such wealth anonymously?

Meaning...

He might need to financially battle the profit-savvy goblins themselves.

His mobilized funds now totaled hundreds of trillions.

"Immortal... however vast your wealth..."

Mayer smirked.

"Cough... the Elixir will be mine."

His smile dripped with greed.