Persuasion: Salmon Bowl or Cube Steak Bowl? That Is the Question. So I Ordered Both.
“Nami, pace yourself! Eat slowly...”
I kept stuffing my mouth full of food, and finally, the dizziness started to fade. The plump salmon belly clung stickily to my tongue. The satisfying fullness from all that rich fat eased my appetite, if only a little. But had I overdone the soy sauce? The salty tang lingered, so I shoveled in another spoonful of rice. My cheeks must’ve been puffed out like a chipmunk’s right now, but who cares about prying eyes.
Finally, I gulped down a full glass of water and came back to my senses.
“There’s no rule saying you have to handle aura in just one way.”
I pointed at each of the weightlifting club members with the spoon in my hand. I was feeling a bit exhilarated now, so why not grace them with some direct instruction?
“To put it to extremes, even the Soviet elite were communists by day and capitalists by night, right? Think of it like that. As long as the two concepts aren’t mutually exclusive, there’s no reason you can’t forge a whole new worldview.”
Was that too abstract? No wonder—they’d spent their whole lives struggling with even one type of aura, so expecting them to juggle two without them mixing was probably asking too much.
To wrap up my meal, I popped a piece of salmon and a chunk of steak into my mouth at the same time. Sadly, a lot of rice went uneaten. My stomach’s just too small.
And finally, I addressed Ban So-wol’s lingering question.
“What else is light yet heavy? Loans. They weigh down your wallet now but leave your balance feather-light.”
“Loans?”
“The aura I showed you at the end burns through your body’s ‘calories’ to unleash extreme power in a short burst. Unlike physical matter, mana and aura are defined in the negative too, so you can tap into future energy by setting ‘negative calories.’”
Of course, the principles behind Eristhon were far more complex and systematic than that. It was a structure so intricate—born from phenomena themselves, capable of thought and personality—that only a dragon’s mind could fathom it. Plenty of efforts had been made to explain aura scientifically, but we still had a long way to go. Like introducing simple economic models into a market economy, humans had chosen to refine their inner worlds through philosophy.
“Doubt everything. That’s how you define anything.”
With that, I left the philosophy students with plenty to chew on.
Even after dinner at the restaurant and everyone else had left, Ban So-wol sat there with her eyes closed, lost in deep thought. Without borrowing the power of erosion, there was no way I could’ve beaten her through sheer force. Her mind was calmer and more profound than most priests in the Holy Kingdom. Was I just weak, or was she that strong? How much effort had she poured in to climb this far? The inconveniences of not being able to see were beyond words.
“...?”
Noticing my stare, I asked Ban So-wol,
“How do you usually study?”
“I memorize what the professors say as best I can or record it. Then I review the class notes from my scribe helper in virtual reality.”
“Ah, virtual reality. Still, rewinding the same lecture twice must be tough.”
“Tough? Nah, it’s fun. But next semester I need 21 credits, and I’m still short a scribe for four classes. Kinda tricky.”
A scribe helper? This might be Shin Yeon-ho’s golden opportunity.
“I know someone who could help you, So-wol unnie. Want me to ask?”
And with that, I’d paid off all my debts. So-wol was pretty, sure, but she had this austere, monk-like vibe—zero fun. Whether his crush would pan out was anyone’s guess.
* * *
Today marked the end of the Q&A sessions with the professors hosted by the Sepiron Foundation. While Emily Mayakovsky set out 500mL water bottles and snacks at each seat, Dr. Robert Fuller handed me a Chupa Chups.
He already had one stuck in his mouth. Probably a cigarette substitute.
“Is NoName some kind of alien or something?”
“I get that a lot.”
“Hahaha. It’s a real shame this is the last day. It’d be great if you came to the States with us.”
“Thanks to your hospitality, I had a blast too.”
“Really?”
When else would I get to debate with such luminaries? Sure, it often devolved into a circus, but when our ideas clicked, the thrill was unmatched.
“But NoName. I mean this sincerely—why stay in Korea?”
“Pardon?”
“Not to disparage Korean culture, but the treatment of professionals leaves much to be desired. Especially with so many politicians lacking academic pedigrees, chasing hereditary politics like Japan did 30 years ago. The future looks bleak.”
Robert Fuller laid into Korea with calm, biting precision.
“Korea’s soft power is world-class, especially its manpower—it rivals the best. That’s why our foundation invests so heavily in Korean education.”
Crunch—Robert bit down on his candy, shattering it between his molars like a biscuit. He chewed a few times and swallowed.
“But without government support, talent gets tied to clans, and clans just exploit them for profit. We don’t think that ecosystem is healthy.”
“You talk like you know Korea inside out, Doctor.”
“My maternal grandmother was Korean. Harsh truth, NoName: the Korean government won’t seriously investigate Walpurgis. Sure, outsider conservative President Lee Jo-won might think differently, but his inner circle won’t budge.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“South Korea was the most vocal opponent of joint UN forces training on its soil. Weird, right? The ruling party not just accepting but actively defending the opposition’s anti-UN stance. We joke internally at the foundation that Walpurgis might have connections in the government.”
No evidence, though, he added at the end.
I sized up Dr. Fuller from head to toe.
“What do you want? Be direct.”
“You’re more adult than most adults, NoName—it’s uncanny. The Sepiron Foundation recognizes your talent and wants you as a full member at headquarters for the next 20 years.”
He slid me his business card. Electronic, apparently— the moment I took it, a sandglass logo appeared in the center, followed by his details scrolling into view.
“It’s already unanimously approved internally. Just sign the card, and you’re in.”
“Does that include Manager Kim Yong-seong at headquarters?”
My homeroom teacher, Jacqueline Carol, was Sepiron-affiliated but hired as an academy alum, not dispatched.
He smiled slyly. “Convention says we can’t disclose members. Join us, and I’ll tell you everything.”
His attitude was friendly. He’d flaunted the foundation’s intel to win me over—bringing up Walpurgis was part of it. On second look, Robert Fuller struck me more as a businessman than a scholar. Phrenology doesn’t lie, huh.
As I kept up my thoughtful pose, he added,
“The world doesn’t run on money alone, NoName. It’s just a byproduct. It’s the biggest hurdle holding back Koreans’ progress—chasing immediate salaries and bonuses blinds them to the long game. That’s why Sepiron is willing to pay you handsomely to break that mindset.”
Not wrong. With enough wealth secured, people chase higher values and goals.
“But it’s too low.”
“Not at all. 4 billion won a year for 20 years—post-tax, obviously. You’re good at math; that’s 80 billion.”
80 billion? Factoring 5% inflation, present value’s about 49.8 billion won. What are they peddling?
They clearly had no idea what Switzerland offered me.
“Pass.”
“NoName? This is an incredible offer. It even allows side gigs—hardly chump change!”
“I know.”
True. He’d been spot-on from start to finish. Even top partner mages in Raon Clan rarely cleared 20 billion post-tax annually. But the foundation’s intel fell short of my expectations, and preaching capitalism’s escape for a measly 50 billion was laughable.
A serf family in mighty Kaizen earned about 200 silver yearly—3 gold, roughly 2.5 million won today. How much had Hiasen offered to sway me?
[Two years, Estasha. You’re selling this empire’s future for a measly two years! Still not enough?]
Kaizen imperial budget for two years—simple math, 18 million gold. 15 trillion won.
Thinking back still pissed me off. He made it sound like the whole empire, but it was just the palace budget.
Anyway, I hated being tied down anywhere. I wanted to keep a good impression of Mr. Fuller, so no more of this.
“I’m truly grateful you value my talent, but I want to focus on school without commitments for now.”
“That tone says it’s not enough. If it’s the money, I’ll go to the budget office myself.”
Even the doctor clung persistently.
“Then call them right here. What I want isn’t a 20-year pension—it’s 500 billion upfront.”
“You’re joking?”
His translation spell must’ve expired; a fluent American “are you kidding me?” slipped out.
Joke? Two or three 7th-circle spells would burn through that.
This side of Robert Fuller—fretting over budgets—was pure academic.
“Doctor! NoName! We’re all set!”
Emily’s call echoed from the podium.
“You’ve got a good subordinate.”
Some boss, backseat-driving instead of helping.
I turned toward the tall Slavic beauty.
“Big crowd today, huh?”
“Last day, so the doctor wanted to open it to the public. You okay with that, Nami?”
Dr. Fuller’s political play was obvious: lure me in privately, then announce my recruitment publicly. Desperation had its reasons.
“Fine by me. As long as they don’t get too rowdy.”
“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”
She lifted one leg and shadowboxed the air. Emily, once so robotic, was loosening up after a few meetings.
“You fight well?”
“Muay Thai 6th dan.”
“Ah.”
Never piss her off.