So What Now?

Lounging around in a hotel room, I took stock of everything I actually wanted to do.

Society had already boiled a man's innate, instinctive desires down into three neat goals, so I figured I'd use those as a reference.

Money.

Fame.

Women.

The first one on the list—money—had already been satisfied to an absurd, almost insulting degree.

I'd pulled it off by buying a ridiculous app called Let's Become Rich!

It was a one-sucker-only app with a download price of a million won. My friends and I had been drinking at a department gathering, debating "the most pointless way to waste money," and the whole thing escalated into a bet. The moment I bought that app, I officially crowned myself the biggest idiot at the entire university.

I was a brand-new freshman back then—broke as hell—and between the sky-high blood alcohol and the peer pressure, I just went for it.

Of course, the next morning, piecing my memory back together like scraps of cut film, I regretted it so hard I wanted to die.

But the second I purchased it, the app vanished from the store without a trace. Then it started handing me missions, and over three months it piled an unthinkable fortune into my hands.

Like every cliché, it started spitting out money in the thousands, then the millions, and I just snorted. But the moment I cleared one mission and tried withdrawing from an ATM, it started pumping out two hundred fifty-thousand-won bills at a time—ten million won, just like that.

Sweat poured down my forehead like rain.

I'd nearly gotten myself investigated by the police for yanking out cash so recklessly. Barely scraped past that crisis.

Anyway—after that, I stopped showing off and started accumulating carefully.

Mission after mission, the kind anyone could follow, I stacked it up like a squirrel hoarding nuts.

The result: one hundred quadrillion won.

Even if the First Emperor of Qin had eaten the herb of immortality and lived to this day, his secret stash wouldn't come close.

In short, money was overflowing. Desire for cash: cleared.

Next up—fame.

This one made me tilt my head.

I didn't particularly crave recognition from anyone, and the urge to lord authority over people was relatively low.

I didn't want to be a popular idol. I didn't want to become some household-name great man. I didn't want to stand above anyone else.

So fame: pass.

The final goal—women.

On this one, I had a fucking lot to say.

Let's be blunt: women are great.

Tits, ass, that thing between their legs—I love all of it.

I'd taken a leave of absence to grind the app, but even that university I never wanted to attend, I'd forced myself through a whole year for the sake of one girl.

Wanting women, though, didn't mean I wanted early marriage.

Sweet romance is fine, but the reason is obvious.

"Doesn't every guy want to pick out beautiful women and fuck them senseless?"

If women want quality in a man, men take it a step further—they want both quantity and quality, don't they?

Maybe it's just me, but that's how I am.

I fucking love women. I want to date a ton of them, all different kinds, and fuck every last one.

But I don't want the simple act of dating. The way things have always gone, the boredom would set in again eventually.

I wanted something that transcended that—a more intense kind of relationship.

"Ah! That'll do it."

Still lounging in the hotel, a brilliant, insane idea hit me.

The second it did, I checked out of the hotel on the spot.

I flew straight to a certain city-state and started scouting for an island suitable for realizing the dream.

It would never fly in Korea, so in this city-state where money made anything possible, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

First, I bought a private island with the cash I could freely move around.

Area: 281.7 square kilometers. Maximum length: 21 kilometers. A pretty big island.

From the air, it looked a lot like Jeju Island.

Maybe a sixth the size, but with emerald waters, palm trees scattered here and there, and perpetual clear sunlight keeping the heat and humidity just right—it was the perfect resort destination.

Once I'd bought it, I didn't hesitate. I called in specialist firms and launched a massive construction project.

Hotels went up. Shopping centers took shape. Leisure facilities were built out.

Not just residential zones—commercial districts, even a bit of farmland. I built infrastructure that wouldn't lose to any island in the world.

This must be what real-life SimCity feels like.

Riding the high of building a nation, I crammed in every element I could think of.

Paved roads across an island of sand and forest. Built a marina. Even put in a small runway that could handle a private jet or light aircraft.

From absolute nothing, I cultivated the foundation of the island step by step from the ground up.

"Hmm… is this enough? Maybe I got a little too greedy…?"

Before I knew it, a thirty-seater private jet sat on the makeshift airstrip.

A massive white cruise ship bobbed gently at anchor on the sea.

And on the streets, a motor show of the world's finest cars parked and waiting for anyone to hop in and drive.

A full two years.

Two years of construction, and it was finally done.

I'd only given orders and gone off to play, but two years later, it was complete.

Correction.

I hadn't only played.

In the meantime, I'd worked hard to launder this insane fortune into legitimate society so I could spend it without looking shady.

Stocks, deposits, bonds, founding subsidiaries and investing—whatever it took to trigger taxes cleanly and weave the money into the fabric of the global economy.

Along the way, on my manager's advice, I even built a bank in the city-state, and kept stuffing money into every corner under the banner of "investment." No thought of reclaiming it later—I just force-fed the beast like fattening up some enormous livestock.

The result:

The money just won't go down…

I was dumping cash into a barren island, and the money was still growing.

Money begets money, I guess. The scattershot investments paid off, and most of the stocks were in the black.

There was so much of it that even after two years I hadn't spent a tenth—and somehow interest kept piling on, making the snowball even bigger.

For the record, the Let's Become Rich! app kept updating me on my total assets the whole time.

In reality, the money wasn't sitting in one place. It was scattered across every corner of the globe—spread so wide, octopus-tentacle style, that I'd even forgotten how to reclaim it all.

Staring at the number made me dizzy, so I shut it off.

Enough about money. Time to enjoy the paradise I'd built under the sky with pure cash.

Blue sky.

Clear water.

A beautifully constructed state-of-the-art hotel.

It was all mine anyway, so I walked into a random room and took a bubble bath.

When I finished, I stepped outside naked, fired up whatever car was closest, and took a spin around the island.

The circumference was under fifty kilometers. Floor the accelerator and you could loop the whole thing in thirty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠minutes—long enough to grasp the island's greatest feature.

"Holy shit, it's so fucking quiet!"

The only human sound was me.

A landscape unimaginable in Korea, that hell of population density.

I'd dressed it up like a resort, but all the workers were gone, and I still hadn't brought a single person here.

Employees to run the shops and tend the gardens would be arriving soon enough, but there were zero residents and zero tourists.

The people who set foot on this island—named after me, Junhyuk Island—would be the ones I carefully selected from this point forward.

That's right.

This was a small nation of my own making.

Technically an island within a city-state, but that city-state had been swallowed by my money too—so from here on, I'd run it however I damn well pleased.

This utopia was the extension of my desire for women.

In a peaceful resort filled only with women, I would collect the females that caught my eye and stuff the place full of them, to enjoy as I pleased.

"Alright. Time to put that to use."

Done with the nude drive, I walked barefoot across the sand into another random hotel room.

It was getting dark, so I flipped on the lights, cranked the air conditioning, picked up the fountain pen resting on the clean desk, and started scratching words onto paper.

The contents were as follows.

It was about the level of a pledge scribbled by a kindergartener, but I figured a lawyer or someone would polish it up later.

Crude as it was, it was done.

The overture to a fantasy that would go wherever my dick pointed.

Polygamy wasn't allowed in Korea, but in the city-state that owned this island, it was perfectly legal.

One, ten, a hundred, a thousand—as long as I had the power, any number was possible.

The island could house over five thousand people, and I could expand if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I wanted.

Whatever woman I chose, whatever race, whatever style—within the reach of my power, everything was free.

"Alright…! It's finally beginning. My life."

Conceived at twenty-one, completed at twenty-three.

The anticipation was as big as the preparation.

Whether I could fill this fifty-story hotel to the brim, or whether pure passion would leave me collapsed on the first floor—

I was looking forward to finding out.

"By the way… who should be first?"

Naked, scratching my chest, I mulled it over.

The world was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠full of all kinds of women, but for a first—well, that word came to mind.

"First love has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Sweetly enough, my high school first love floated up.

The moment she did, my lower half agreed so hard it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sprang to a full erection. I immediately called the pilot and headed back to Korea.