Monopoly: Path of Gold (3)
A hard-fought victory seized in a sweat-drenched showdown.
Liana had practically been chased out of the library, but her steps were lighter than ever before.
Some might dismiss it as mere child's play.
Even chess could be called just a board game, not a real war.
But to Liana, every move in that game had been her all-out effort, her honor on the line.
Rather than stubbornly defending her father's devastated territories to the bitter end, she'd bought up deeds and developed them later based on her cash flow.
The Silk Road was down south, where toll rates weren't favorable.
Still, it was one of the four essential lands for a special victory, so she'd prepared for potential bankruptcy by building only the cheapest structure: a mansion.
Rules dictated that high-value assets were liquidated first.
And she'd calculated the dice probabilities.
With two dice, the most common roll was 7.
Followed by 6 or 8.
But 8 risked landing on corner "special zones," so she'd targeted 7 and snapped up the city right after it.
By mid-game, she had few cities, but they'd all been high-probability destinations.
So her pieces cruised safely while mine bled cash bit by bit.
Of course, probability isn't 100% reliable—dice shenanigans nearly bankrupted her a few times.
But in the end, she snagged the last piece, the northern trade city Snowfell, via a Star of Fate card: Seizure, securing the "special victory" condition.
A brilliant win worthy of the Golden Duke's daughter.
That's why she'd let her dignity crumble and rejoiced wholeheartedly.
It rivaled the thrill of outmaneuvering her brothers to claim the capital branch of the guild.
She'd poured in the effort, and it was worth every bit.
"That was fun. So much fun. I'd love to play with the vice president and the warehouse keeper sometime..."
Her steps halted abruptly on the way to the Liana Merchant Guild building, which doubled as her office and home.
"......"
She'd been so immersed in the game that she'd overlooked something crucial.
It was captivating enough to over-engage even the Golden Duke's daughter.
And this game was one-of-a-kind in the empire—crafted by a quirky, eccentric librarian.
In other words, it hadn't been commercialized yet.
Her dopamine-glazed eyes cooled rapidly as her fingers began crunching numbers.
Material costs were low. At most, Shape Memory Branch and a few dozen sheets of high-quality cardstock.
Clink clink. The heavy jingle of her gold pouch echoed in her ears.
Jackpot. Guaranteed.
Liana loved products that didn't exist in this world. And she had a knack for pricing them perfectly.
It was what set her leagues above her brothers and let her seize the guild's largest, most vital capital branch from under the Golden Duke's nose.
If born in the modern era, she'd have landed a spot as an econ prof or think-tank researcher.
Liana hurried into the guild's office.
Servants and staff swarmed to attend her, but she brushed past without a word and headed straight to her room.
There, she began drafting a proper estimate.
"We can rake in a fortune with this, Librarian. We'll offer 28% of pure profits as royalty. Anything more strains us. This is our top offer from the start, right?"
I was utterly baffled.
So, what she's saying is...
"You want to sell the game we just played—Monopoly, or whatever?"
She nodded slowly at my question.
"Yes. You called it a 'game,' right? We'd love to distribute it through our guild."
"Hmm."
"...If 28% doesn't sit well, we could adjust. Say, drop to 22% and offer a stake in the guild instead."
"No, the terms are fine... but how exactly do you plan to sell it?"
Truth be told, this was a windfall rolling right into my lap.
Consider how I'd been scraping by.
Embezzling library funds for Wiki's mana stones, then blowing my salary to cover it up.
Family support? Fat chance. I flunked at the academy and fell out of Father's good graces.
No disownment, but no handouts either—fend for yourself.
I got his side, honestly.
With big bro slaying dragons and little bro as the empire's youngest inspector, the Feltro name was soaring. Whispers of a marquisate from the palace?
Just rumors, of course.
To make it real amid all the palace intrigue meant bribing allied houses lavishly.
No spare coin for me.
So I skimped on food.
Hit the bakery at 6 PM for half-price day-olds. Luck out on something tasty sometimes.
Mostly rock-hard baguettes, but whatever.
A quick Refinement spell softened them into fluffy bites.
And now, the opportunity of my dreams was knocking: money and content for the masses!
Okay, the content part excited me more.
I'm an attention whore with exhibitionist vibes—I crave crowds geeking out over my creations.
That's why kid-me started writing Monte Cristo despite being unqualified.
Couldn't in my past life, so why not indulge now?
"First, we'd stock our branches and train folks on the 'rulebook.'"
Reading my enthusiasm, Liana lit up and spilled her grand plan.
"Nobles are trend slaves, especially for our guild's wares. A few plays at the branches, and it'll ripple through high society."
I was impressed.
That's solid. Why didn't I think of that?
Distributing games ain't easy, though.
Only someone like Liana Aishinkiore, running a mega-guild, would eye it as merch.
Fine. Path of Gold sales plan approved—zero expectations exceeded.
"I'd love to hash out details."
She beamed and clapped.
"Perfect! I'll show you to the guild. Dinner plans? If not, let me treat you as thanks for today..."
"Starving, actually. Sounds great."
I followed her to the guild's upscale restaurant.
Monster-free giant fish roast and Beijing duck-like chicken? Divine.
Post-feast, we dove into business proper.
Not much to negotiate.
Sell price: 20 gold. Pure profit 8 gold, her 28% cut about 2.24 gold—a windfall for a librarian.
One snag, though: exclusivity.
"Lady Liana, why limit sales to nobles?"
"????"
She looked at me like I'd grown a second head.
I flashed back to my past life.
Why'd I become a game dev?
Simple: I wanted everyone to play nice together.
Cry over my stories, grind characters for that rush, overinvest in waifus for R-18 fanart floods.
Blow up as memes, drag the playerbase's IQ with memes. That's culture.
Underground stuff's iffy for mainstream, but eh.
Bottom line:
"It'd suck without everyone playing."
"Huh!?"
"Games are pop culture. Hoarding them for elites ain't gaming. Materials are cheap, right? Mass-produce at low cost?"
My prototype cost under 1 silver.
Her eyes narrowed.
She was the era's top merchant-econ whiz.
Me? A half-baked library hermit mage.
Challenging her? Not welcome.
"...Possible, but major issue: low price means instant knockoffs."
She nailed the imitation risk.
"We could dominate early market, but Path of Gold is easy to copy for anyone."
Low entry barrier.
Games are content.
Medium doesn't matter. Skip Shape Memory Branch; wood scraps and pebbles work.
Pebbles for mansions, midsize for guilds...
Even first-mover advantage crumbles in this copyright-less medieval fantasy world.
Hey, I majored econ till sophomore year.
Switched to game dev junior year.
"That's why premium from the start—like ivory pieces. Deters fakes."
"Which is why we go cheap."
"Pardon?"
"Games are consumed as content, not the item. Look at that chessboard.
Once jeweled ivory luxuries. Now?"
Finally, realization dawned on her.
"...Shape Memory Branch crashed the price."
"Exactly. Even our budget-strapped library stocks one. Easy access."
Premiumizing doesn't stop copies.
Hell, swap materials, same rules—same fun.
Like modern Monopoly versus this Path of Gold.
And Monopoly ain't even original!
She's hawking fake-of-a-fake as luxury.
Who wins the market?
"Ha."
Liana exhaled, face paling in shock.
She stared me down.
"You... no, Librarian, what's your deal? Golden Duke's son? Or treasury ministry...?"
"Oh, right—no intros. Yujin Feltro. Youngest son of Feltro Count."
"Yujin Feltro? Feltro Count's youngest..."
She shot up, yelling.
"The academy heretic!!! The library thug who humiliated the student president before the board and grossed out the profs! The failing weirdo mage!?!?"
"......???? How do you even—"
"How could I not? Philemon Academy, class of 56!"
Wait, you were my junior, bitch?