Economic Invasion (1)
“Exports? We're already doing that.”
In the executive meeting, someone suggested increasing our export volume. We're already trading large quantities of goods back and forth. Of course, what we provide is mostly stuff like water, laundry services, and electricity—things that cost us absolutely nothing to produce.
Tank trucks from countless alliances line up every day to fill up. In every residence, people plug in a dozen multi-tap extensions to charge all sorts of electronics. Laundry services have quietly become a huge hit. With labor to spare, we take in massive loads of dirty clothes, wash them, and hand them back clean. They bring their own detergent and fabric softener, so all we do is run the machines and dryers. Just this has reportedly skyrocketed hygiene standards among the warlords in the alliances.
On top of that, we offer cutting-edge medical facilities you can't find anywhere else. We provide all these services to alliance members at rock-bottom prices. Soldiers sent by alliance executives visit regularly for reports or trades. The first time I saw them, they looked like veterans who'd crawled out of hell—dry, brittle hair caked in dust, stained uniforms.
But now? They show up with baskets full of razors, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shower towels—you name it. They line up politely at the makeshift showers, clean up, and emerge with glossy, flowing hair and uniforms reeking of fabric softener. Not long ago, I even overheard them chatting about which shampoo and soap they use while saluting me on their way back to the barracks.
I figured we were already providing plenty, but the executives brought up ramping up exports.
“How about selling off the excess liquor?”
“Hmm...”
Sure enough, ever since we built the brewery, stocks have been piling up. We're distributing it regularly to boost resident satisfaction. We've warned that anyone causing alcohol-related trouble will face severe punishment, so there haven't been any incidents—and we don't distribute enough for that anyway. With the weather warming up, workers get off their grueling shifts, shower, have dinner, and enjoy just a drink or two. That's the limit.
We used to distribute liquor acquired through trades, but post-brewery, we prioritize our own beer, makgeolli, and wine. Bottled storage doesn't keep well, especially the carbonated stuff—it goes flat and tastes awful. So we push immediate consumption. Residents love it. After work, they head home with fresh-drawn draft beer, pitchers of makgeolli, and bottled wine for their little moments of bliss.
The brewery's beer lineup alone—lager, ale, stout—comes in three varieties. The tanks for makgeolli and wine are huge, and permanent reinforcement means they fill fast. One brewery covers residents' drinking needs just fine. If short, we can always dip into the thousands of bottles stockpiled underground.
That leaves soju, whiskey, and vodka piling up. We can't leave tanks full forever, so we sterilize imported glass bottles in boiling water, fill them with the surplus, and store them. We've gifted plenty to alliance executives, but it keeps accumulating.
Our brewery liquor fetches insane prices outside. No watered-down green-bottle soju here—it's high-proof distilled. Whiskey and vodka are premium, not the cheap crap mixed with whatever water's handy.
“So, sell this to groups beyond the alliance?”
“Yes.”
In Seoul, outside the alliance, only one group can buy this premium stuff.
“Selling to the warlords and merchants loyal to the Republic of Korea government would also boost our prestige.”
Han Byeol had handed me the documents before the meeting, but I'd skimmed them while helping I-rang with homework. Now I opened them properly. This wasn't just about offloading surplus booze. The plan was to hawk luxury liquor to wealthy Gangnam warlords and merchants, flaunting our wealth and status far and wide.
Gangnam warlords may nominally pledge loyalty to the Republic of Korea government, but they're basically independent states. The government's prestige has risen lately with the Dome Head subjugation and the 1st Special Awakener Division's exploits, but it's nowhere near enough to control them.
Naturally, the government has no right—or manpower—to meddle in what its warlords and merchants trade. Even if they tried, they couldn't enforce it. So trading with Gangnam factions gives them no grounds to complain.
We hadn't dealt with Gangnam before simply because Gangbuk had plenty of trade partners—no need, no urgency.
“Gangnam's major merchant associations are already showing interest in us.”
“Reports say alliance executives have asked Gangnam merchants to help broker deals with Nakyuan.”
“And what do we get in return?”
“Building materials and electronics for the district restoration projects.”
“What if it pisses off the Republic of Korea government?”
Not that I'm scared of them. I just want to avoid pointless conflicts. We'd probably win a war, but casualties would be massive either way.
Han Seol spoke up. “Gangbuk merchants and warlords near Gangnam have been trading with them for ages. The government has no say or room to interfere.”
The guy who'd casually mentioned during last month's warehouse inspection that the brewery was overproducing? Yeah, that was me—no grounds to refuse now. Offhand comments of mine keep turning into formal reports. Can't even speak carelessly anymore.
“Fine, give it a shot... But will they bite? Gangnam's richer on average than Gangbuk, sure, but our brewery stuff is way premium compared to the usual trade soju. Why splurge on one fancy bottle when you can guzzle several cheap ones?”
Han Byeol replied, “It'll sell out. Gangnam's rich merchants will come running the second they catch wind.”
“Alright, proceed.”
After a week's prep, we decided to sell the booze in Gangnam through the Seonghun Merchant Association. To promote it as Nakyuan product, we labeled every bottle. When asked what image to use, I told the executives to decide and report back. Jeong Su-hwan's wing logo won out—we slapped it on every bottle as our official certification mark.
Alliance executives also requested small batches of rice, wheat, potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes—anything. With farm numbers still low, we'd consider it once production ramps up.
They probably have their own rice and flour, but they want ours to boost citizen satisfaction. Makes sense—I'd eaten outsider rice and bread back when living alone. No comparison to Nakyuan's; the quality gap is insane. Used to scrounge whatever back then, but one taste of ours, and outsider grains are inedible.
They plan to mix our premium stuff with their distribution stocks to elevate overall quality.
Points from slain monsters went straight to reconstructing the government office. Now it's five stories, making bureaucrats' jobs smoother.
Next, we kicked off restoration on District 3 Southeast. For a while, every 20 points went to upgrading existing housing to LV.2, with new builds as production facilities. Food's surging, so time to onboard more residents.
We'd planned immediate intake, but Han Seol advised upgrading all housing first, then mass-accepting as winter hits and days cool. Right now, with mild weather, farming, foraging—self-sufficiency's easy. Hard to abandon years-rooted homes. But come cold, dwindling stockpiles? Desperation drives talent here. I bought it.
By autumn's chill, we'd restore a few more buildings, reconstruct all housing. Then, at least 500 new residents.
Lately, no ability progress—getting antsy. Need Marquis rank for full unlocks, but residents top just over a thousand. Ten thousand? Sigh.
A week since brewery sales started in Gangnam. Seo I-rang always wakes before me for school, so bed's empty when I stir. Worried she'd pick up my laziness, I vowed early to bed, early to rise.
At 7:30, I hit the living room. The Han sisters stared in surprise.
“Sleep well?”
“Up early today?”
“Oh my.”
The Han sisters and Na Hye-won gawked.
“Yeah, not that big a deal...”
“G-good morning!”
“Morning.”
I ruffled I-rang's hair and sat. Han Byeol set down breakfast: bacon from Nakyuan pork belly, fried eggs from traded ones, two slices of buttered toast, salad. Then drip coffee from beans she roasted and ground herself.
Ordinary for me, absurd luxury outside.
“C-can I have some c-coffee too?” I-rang pointed.
“Five... no, seven years older, then maybe. Milk till then.”
“Okay! Let's eat!”
Han Byeol finished setting and sat to eat.
“Family breakfast in ages.”
Na Hye-won smiled. “First time since I got here.”
“I'll try waking earlier.”
Eating together felt like real family. Probably the kid made it warmer.
Sipping coffee post-meal, Han Seol said, “Oh, right. Meant to report this afternoon, but now works.”
“Huh? What?”
“The brewery liquor we started selling last week.”
“Not selling well?”
“No—all 500 bottles from the first batch sold out.”
“...”