Sure, I'll Accept the Terms... Huh? What Did You Say?
“Sure, I'll accept the condition... Huh? What?”
My refusal caught the club manager off guard. The smile vanished from his face as he stared at me in bewilderment. I repeated myself clearly for him.
“Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to pass.”
“...You're really turning it down? So you don't need the consent form?”
“No, that's not it. What I mean is... I have a different proposal for you.”
“A different... proposal?”
I pulled out my phone and dialed the top number in my recent calls. After two rings, a voice answered.
“I've got it?”
“Yes, I'm waiting right outside the door.”
“Come in.”
“Understood.”
I hung up and pocketed the phone. Just then, the door to the sub-room swung open, and Han Seojun stepped in.
“Young master. Here you are.”
He placed two document bags on the desk in front of me, gave a silent bow, and promptly exited. The manager, who had been staring blankly, let out a disbelieving chuckle as Seojun left.
“...Who the hell was that guy?”
“Does it matter?”
I unlatched the bags without looking away. Inside were stacks of file folders. I pulled out a few and scattered them across the board game boxes, then turned to the manager.
“Board Game Club. Bronze-rated, located on the first floor of the club building. With only ten million credits coming in once a month, you can't keep up with all the new board games flooding the market every year. So you've borrowed money at near-usury rates through economic clubs, and it's snowballed to fifty million now... Right?”
“Hold on—how does a freshman like you know all that...?”
“You know that's not the point. Plus, last year you had no new recruits, so there was talk of adjusting your base funding... You're really on the edge, aren't you?”
“N-No, that's not—!”
“Whatever. The real question is why I'm telling you all this.”
I snapped my fingers to refocus him. Suddenly, realization dawned on the manager's face, and his eyes widened as he glared at me.
“...Don't tell me. You're buying the consent form?”
I grinned.
“Bingo.”
“Buying a consent form with money? That's ridiculous—!”
“—Fifty million credits.”
“What?”
Thud.
Clatterclatterclatter—!
I opened the other bag, and its contents spilled out. Bills, bills, bills. Every stack covering the table was pure cash.
The manager gaped, utterly speechless at the impossible sight.
“Uh, uh...”
“Here's my proposal to the Board Game Club.”
An offer they couldn't refuse.
“Right here: fifty million credits. Freshly withdrawn from my account.”
“What are you even...?”
“Oh, and look—your club's debt is exactly fifty million credits. What a hilarious coincidence, right? Hand over one consent form, and poof, debt gone!”
I leaned in close and whispered in his ear.
“Pretty sweet, huh?”
If they won't take the offer, give them money. If they still refuse, make them rethink if the money was enough. I didn't know who said it, but damn, what a gem.
The manager, who'd been staring in a daze, extended a trembling hand toward the desk.
Scrape.
He pulled the bills toward himself, then looked up at me with pitiful eyes.
“But... the club's fate can't hinge on money alone—”
“Hmm, disappointing if that's how you see it. Is this just money to you? What I'm offering is a chance. A chance for the Board Game Club to survive.”
Oh, and by the way—
I gazed down at him impassively and murmured.
“Don't even think about negotiating. If you pass, I'll just go to another club.”
Fear wasn't just about violence. It was using their situation and psychology to make them realize what a massive opportunity this was—and what they'd lose if they blew it.
That was how to instill terror without lifting a finger, just through circumstance and atmosphere.
“...Just write the consent form?”
“Yes. Then take this bag and pay off your debt.”
“...Give me a minute. I'll grab it quick.”
“Sure. I'll wait right here nice and slow, so no need to rush, senior.”
After wrapping up with the Board Game Club president, I returned to the kids. They all stared at me blankly.
“...Why are you all looking at me like that?”
I hadn't messed up anywhere, so what was this?
“Uh... Eugene, you're nicer? Scarier? Than I thought.”
“Boss, I nearly pissed myself...”
“...Buying a consent form with cash? Unbelievable.”
The kids, having watched from behind, reacted in their own ways.
“I thought it was just bribery at first... But the Board Game Club loses nothing. Fifty million credits is huge—can you really spend that much?”
“...Huge money?”
Fifty million credits was about fifty million won. Maybe because even in the game, a single piece of decent gear cost around a hundred million on average, but handing over the equivalent of fifty million won felt like nothing. No sense of loss at all.
Especially since...
“It's just pocket change.”
“...Huh?”
When I thought about my balance as Eugene Han Calione, this was chump change. The Calione family was one of the world's top underworld powers, so my accounts were beyond flush.
Besides, this fifty million was just a fraction of what my father gave me after handling the Blunti family last time. My personal wealth hadn't even budged.
Unaware of that, the others just gawked like I'd lost my mind.
“Freshman.”
The president returned with the document envelope, consent form complete.
“Here. The Bronze club consent form you wanted.”
“Faster than expected. Thanks.”
I took it and handed it straight to Jinwoo.
“Spending that much on a Bronze club like ours to get the form... You're serious about this, huh?”
“Yes. Exactly as you're thinking.”
He chuckled at my reply.
“Never thought I'd live to see a freshman start a club. Sure, handing it over like this means I can't complain... But since you're taking our consent form, give it your all.”
His voice rang with sincerity as he extended his hand. I shook it firmly and nodded.
“No worries.”
With that, our business here was done. We left the Board Game Club and headed to the first-floor lobby.
“Didn't expect a Bronze consent form this easy... How about Silver?”
Youngje asked about the next step. It had taken less than an hour, so we had plenty of time. I slowed my pace.
“Silver will be even easier.”
“Huh?”
“You'll see.”
The target Silver club had its sub-room on the fourth floor.
“Whoa, upper floors are on another level. This place is spotless—practically gleaming.”
Jinwoo gawked first as we stepped out of the elevator.
“Boss, what's next? We conquered Board Games, so... archery club? Shooting club?”
“Nah, nothing that fancy. We're heading to a business club.”
“Business club?”
We turned right from the elevator, and there it was: a sleek black door with a plaque.
[International Trade Club]
“International Trade Club? What's that?”
“I've heard of it!”
Sea-a shot her hand up, like she'd prepped on this one.
“The club that delivers overseas goods you can't get in the academy or local markets—fast and accurate, through their own routes! They say if you pay, they can get anything. Right?”
“Huh? Boss aside, how do you know?”
“I looked into it 'cause they pay well.”
Jinwoo marveled at Sea-a's unexpected savvy. I smirked at their camaraderie.
“Not anything, but yeah—most special stuff, they can get.”
As Sea-a said, the International Trade Club was like a broker: pay up, and they'd source anything. In the game, it acted as an in-academy shop. Follow the academy route, and you'd learn one key fact about them naturally.
“No time to waste. Let's go in.”
“Huh? Just like that?!”
Sea-a panicked as I opened the door without prep. Inside: a massive office-like space, chilled air from the AC. Or rather, a cold atmosphere welcomed us.
“I said bring authentic goods, and you fetch fakes? How are you covering this loss?!”
“S-Sorry, vice president!”
“Sorry? Sorry? Think 'sorry' ends club life? It'll come out of your pay—got it?!”
“Sorry! I'm sorry!”
A sharp voice hit us right at the entrance. Noticing us, the woman scolding the staff whipped her gaze our way.
“...What? We're not open for club hours yet.”
Her polite way of saying scram.
“Not here to buy.”
“Then what?”
“To see the International Trade Club president.”
“What? Wait, your name tags—freshmen? Hey, know what this place is? Think the president is some dog you can just summon?”
“Not a dog.”
“Huh?”
I grinned at the flustered staffer and mimed shaking a bell.
“Wanna see me for a sec?”
“What the hell are you—”
Jingle jingle.
She shoved the shouting staffer aside and approached, jingling along. Dressed in a cadet uniform modded to look like a black suit, her expression blank as she reached me.
“Long time no see, right?”
“...Huh?”
Her hair tied back, exposing a pale neckline—a stunning woman. She stepped in front of the confused staffer, bowed to me, and spoke calmly.
“International Trade Club President, Inomiya Haru, at your service, young master.”