Preparing for Enrollment: Securing Funds (2)
Thud!
“Whoa, this sword is incredibly flashy. The blade looks razor-sharp too. What’s your take, Ligret?”
“Balance is off and the edge is dull. I wouldn’t use it even if you paid me.”
“Tch. So it’s not a magic tool—just ceremonial junk.”
Thud!
“This time it’s a ring. Look at the size of that gemstone. Absolutely gorgeous.”
“Doesn’t wearing something like that get in the way? Isn’t it uncomfortable? Or do rich people just deal with it differently?”
“Who knows? It’s not like they ever have to put real strength into their hands for work.”
Thud!
“Another gold bar? Come on, give me something useful like a magic tool already.”
“Where should I put this?”
“Just shove it over there.”
Dorf Brams wondered if he was still hallucinating.
Potions created through special alchemy or rituals were incredibly effective at healing wounds, but some of them carried side effects. The more potent the medicine, the more likely it was to induce vivid hallucinations. After being beaten to a pulp and then spending days jostling around in a wagon, his injuries had been severe enough to require massive doses of healing potions. The aftereffects were bound to be just as intense.
Fearing he might make a catastrophic mistake while under the influence, Dorf had been about to pinch his own cheek as hard as he could when a series of sharp slapping sounds made him turn his head. Johan, the experienced warehouse keeper he knew from his days as the former chief clerk, was smacking his own face repeatedly.
“Weird… I didn’t even drink yesterday. Why can’t I wake up?” the man muttered, raining blows on himself with a manic intensity that sent chills down the spine. Most people would probably turn tail and run if they encountered someone like that on a dark road at night.
Only then did Dorf realize the truth.
‘Wait… so this isn’t a hallucination only I can see?’
A blacksmith covered in rough scars was laying out weapons so elegant they could have been family heirlooms passed down for generations. Beside them, a wooden box the size of a bathtub overflowed with jewelry encrusted in dazzling gemstones. Even now, gold bars and coins kept pouring out, unable to fit into proper containers and simply scattered across the floor.
Could this possibly be reality?
Dorf’s merchant instincts—honed over decades after joining the Midas Merchant Group as a low-level employee in his youth—immediately calculated the value of the treasures before him. The result left him trembling. And the wealth was still increasing by the second.
Unable to contain himself, Dorf grabbed one of the dazed servants nearby and shouted.
“Magic stones! Bring every magic stone in the mansion! Hurry!”
“B-but Sir Dorf, the warehouses from number one to three cannot be opened without the patriarch’s permission. Moreover, the patriarch is currently away on business—”
“Then buy them from somewhere else! No, forget it—I’ll go myself!”
His body, which hadn’t seen proper exercise in years, screamed in protest at the sudden sprint, but that was the least of Dorf’s concerns right now.
‘I don’t know what kind of bizarre sorcery that boy used, but if he can do the same thing to the Cubes in other branches… No, if he can do it to every single Cube currently wandering the market like unwanted baggage…!’
What should he even call this? A goose that lays golden eggs? A millstone that pours out salt and gold with every turn?
One thing was certain. The connection he had forged with that boy named Chrome Midas was nothing less than a lifeline that would lift him back into the heights once more.
Unsealing the Sealed Artifact. In other words, roughly an hour after I began opening Cubes, I finally let out a breath.
“Whew. I think that about wraps it up.”
“Huh? There are still tons of Cubes left.”
The pile had certainly shrunk, but plenty remained stacked throughout the warehouse. Ligret tilted her head.
“Those are fine. They’re probably all duds anyway.”
“……Is there a way to tell them apart? No matter how I look at them, they all seem the same to me.”
Ligret picked up two different Cubes, examining them closely and even juggling them to test their weight, but eventually she shrugged, unable to find any distinction.
It wasn’t surprising. If people could tell them apart that easily, Cubes wouldn’t have earned their reputation as worthless junk. But to my eyes, the misty glow emanating from each Cube was crystal clear. Valuable ones shone so brightly they nearly hurt to look at, while the mediocre ones gave off only a faint haze that you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.
“Call it intuition. I just… know when I see them.”
If it had been just Ligret, I could have explained, but with so many ears around, I didn’t want strange rumors spreading. So I kept it vague.
Still, what a bumper crop. The value of the items I’d pulled out so far probably matched an entire year’s revenue for an average Midas branch. Anyone unaware of the circumstances would wonder why people didn’t simply open every Cube they found. But I knew the truth.
It wasn’t that everyone else was doing something wrong. It was that my financial luck was completely abnormal.
The magic stones I’ve burned through alone would be worth over five hundred million won in my previous life.
Of course, the returns had been more than worth the cost. But that was only because I had precisely selected the winning Cubes from the massive pile. If I had mindlessly opened every single one, would I even have broken even?
Besides, magic stones were in high demand everywhere, so their market price fluctuated wildly, and it was difficult for any individual to hoard large quantities. That was exactly why Dorf had been forced to buy more with his own money midway through.
“By the way, does that mean the black ones are duds too?”
Ligret pointed at the two obsidian Cubes in the warehouse. I shook my head.
“No, at least one of them should be a winner. We just don’t have the right key.”
Unlike white or gray Cubes that could be opened with enough low-grade magic stones, black Cubes were also affected by the quality of the stone. The high-grade magic stones required to open them were extremely rare, and those stored in the Midas family warehouses could only be used with the patriarch’s permission.
Well, it’s only a matter of time.
After causing this much commotion, it was inevitable that the patriarch would summon me again. Bern Midas would have realized by now that I wasn’t just his easily manipulated youngest son, but someone capable of delivering enormous profits to the entire family.
A short while later, Bern Midas returned from his duties, assessed the situation, and cut straight to the point.
“Can you apply the same process to the Cubes in our other branches?”
I nodded.
“Yes. However, I can’t guarantee we’ll see gains this large every time. I’m only selecting the promising ones from the pool. I can’t create value where none exists.”
“That doesn’t matter. We’ll transport the Cubes and magic stones currently stored at other branches here. All you have to do is sort through them.”
Unlike his usual cold demeanor, he looked genuinely excited. It was understandable—years of accumulated junk were about to transform into mountains of gold and treasure.
Which was exactly why I answered as I did.
“And what do I get out of it?”
Bern frowned.
“This is family business. If you perform well, a suitable reward will naturally follow. Your impatience is unbecoming.”
“Yes, it is a merchant family’s business. Which makes this a transaction between merchants.”
Family-like corporation? Precisely because we were family, transactions needed to be even more rigorous. A proper deal required both sides to give and receive. One-sided exploitation followed by whatever scraps the superior felt like tossing over wasn’t a transaction—it was plunder.
Bern stared at me silently for a long time, but when I met his gaze with a shameless expression, he eventually shook his head. He had realized that clashing here would only hurt himself.
“Thirty percent of the profits. Is that sufficient?”
“Without me, there would be zero profit, wouldn’t there? You could afford to be more generous.”
“Then perhaps you should go out into the streets yourself to gather Cubes and magic stones.”
Wow, he really went there. Since a breakdown in negotiations would hurt me as well, I decided to compromise.
“Twenty percent is fine. However, I’d like to keep any items that come from the black Cubes.”
“In that case, there will be no profit sharing for those.”
“……Twenty percent, limited to three items from the black ones.”
“Ten percent. Regardless of Cube color, I’ll give you five items. Additionally, that girl—Ligret, was it? I’ll make sure her living arrangements are comfortable as well.”
This shameless bastard. Even as I cursed the notorious miser in my head, I signed the contract. No matter what, I had successfully secured my war chest.