My Equipment... Upgraded?

The answer didn't come right away.

For the first time ever, I'd done it properly.

No screaming, no pain. I'd held her afterwards, and I'd even said I was sorry.

And then, immediately, this question.

'Should I not sell them?'

...Wait, then how am I supposed to eat?

"...Yeah."

That one word was all I gave her. I didn't add that I had to make a living, that she knew that as well as I did. Saying it out loud would have felt too cruel.

"...Okay."

A long while later. Quietly.

"You're not selling me, right?"

"I'm not selling you."

This time, I didn't attach a reason. Just that I wasn't going to sell her.

"...Idiot."

Cheolgeom muttered it, then came over beside me, pressed her back against mine, and lay down.

She'd cursed at me, but I felt good anyway.

Maybe because of yesterday, when she hadn't cursed at all.

"Who's going to buy her?"

"No idea. A hunter, probably. Some beginner types."

"Beginners..."

Cheolgeom went quiet for a moment. The one who'd handed her over to me was a beginner too.

"...I hope she doesn't end up with someone who throws her away."

I had nothing to say to that, so I just stared at the ceiling.

The next morning, I ate ramen with my phone in my hand.

Tomorrow, my second child would be born—with a skill attached. The thought alone made the ramen taste good.

Then, out of nowhere, I remembered the card in my wallet.

My hunter license. The rank field was blank, but on paper, I was a hunter.

And right now, I had a sword. A sword that talked, and cursed.

'...Maybe I should try being a hunter?'

Hunter Gallery, party recruitment tab. I'd poked my head in here once before, back when I didn't understand a single word of it, and left.

This time I looked things up one by one. A "safe party" was one that didn't push its limits. The DPS minimum was a minimum attack power requirement. A "regular run" meant clearing the same gate on a set schedule.

Once I understood, everything got even clearer.

D-Rank or above. License verification required.

There wasn't a single party I could join.

And then, that last line.

No bus inquiries.

It was on practically every post. Almost no exceptions.

If they had to say they refused, that meant they were getting that many inquiries.

'What the hell is a bus?'

"...They don't check the rank?"

Money was all it took. So what if they treated me as cargo? I didn't know anything anyway—what a gate looked like, how hunters actually fought, none of it.

'Let's ride the bus first.'

Follow along once, watch, learn. Hunter came after that.

I opened my bank account. Fifty thousand won.

"...One million won."

Still a long way off. But now I had a goal.

I wrote one line in my phone's memo app: Ride the bus. 1,000,000 won.

"You're here?"

Cheolgeom called out the moment I walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a shapeless lump in her arms, kicking her feet.

Once again, I'd failed to be there for the important moment.

"It's your kid."

Cheolgeom held the formless mass out to me. I reached out and touched it, and it hardened from my fingertips outward, lengthening. The feel of iron.

"...It came."

A skill. Last time there'd been nothing, so I'd assumed that was normal.

'So the factors really do become skills.'

That thing that had popped up right before I finished two days ago. The one I'd shouted "Inject!" at without even knowing what it was. It had come out attached to this sword for real.

"Hey, look at this! It's got a skill!"

"...Yeah."

Cheolgeom gave the sword a single glance, then silently turned her head away.

Her face was pale. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

My excitement suddenly felt a little embarrassing.

"...I'm going to sleep."

Cheolgeom flopped sideways onto the bed. Her breathing slowed almost immediately.

I pulled the blanket over her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and sat down beside her to do the math.

One factor came out each time Cheolgeom peaked. Inject that factor into the next one, and you got a child with a skill. Birth took a day.

But asking her to go again the very day she gave birth was a bit much.

One day to rest, one day to carry, one day to birth. One sword every three days.

...And then there was that.

Remaining birth capacity: 18.

Eighteen times, and it was over. With Cheolgeom alone.

'I need more.'

Equipment to give birth to equipment. And when those eighteen were used up, Cheolgeom would...

'...I said I wasn't selling her, didn't I.'

That settled it. I looked at her sleeping face once, then quietly slipped out.

The moment I posted the second one on the trading platform, a UI popped up over the listing on its own.

"Ooh..."

Last time, only the star rank had shown. With one skill line added, it looked like a completely different beast.

The problem was the price. I had no instinct for it, so I dug through other listings first.

1-Star iron swords, daggers, spears. Thirty thousand, fifty thousand, seventy thousand at the very most.

Every single one had an empty skill line.

No comparison points, so no way to price it. The first one had gone for fifty thousand, so with a skill attached, maybe a bit more.

One hundred thousand? No, it's a skill.

Let's be bold about it.

1-Star Iron Sword, skill attached. 200,000 won.

I registered the listing and was about to put my phone down when—

-Ding.

"...What, already?"

It hadn't even taken a minute.

"Two hundred thousand!"

About an hour later, riding the high, I opened the Hunter Gallery—and my finger froze at the very top of the best posts.

"...A million?"

The sword in the photo. The sword I'd made just that morning.

It had been one hour since I'd pumped my fist over two hundred thousand won. And that was one fifth of its actual value.

"AAAAARGH!"

Come to think of it, there was no way the First Strike skill could be cheap. It tripled your opening attack. For low-tier parties where drawn-out fights were a liability, it was practically the perfect item.

If you killed in one strike, you never had to take a hit.

"Goddamn idiot."

I really was an idiot, just like Cheolgeom said. Should have done a little more research before selling.

-Ding.

"The gallery guys weren't wrong."

They had no reason to lie. People even searched product reviews by appending "Gallery" to the name precisely because of how honest those lunatics were.

After sending it, my heart pounded. Offering 1,000 to someone offering 800. Had I overplayed my hand?

-Ding.

"One million won."

One million won, reserved.

That night, I went back in because I couldn't wait to brag.

Cheolgeom had slept off her exhaustion and was sitting up with the blanket rolled around her. Some color had come back to her face.

"The next one that comes out—I'm selling it for a million!"

"...A million?"

Cheolgeom's eyes went round, then her lips slowly pushed out into a pout.

"...I was only thirty thousand."

"You're not being sold, I told you."

"Idiot..."

Even so, Cheolgeom rolled over next to me, blanket and all. And then, quietly:

"Yeah... I'll give birth again tomorrow, too."

The next day, I started shallow from the very beginning.

Watching Cheolgeom's face, going only as deep as it took for the crease between her brows to smooth out.

Once I knew the route, Cheolgeom's body loosened up fast too.

"Ahh... you've... gotten better than last time?"

"Really?"

"Mm. For an idiot... ngh, there..."

-Whoo.

And then, right before I finished, the familiar window.

'Inject!'

A little short.

"One more... is that okay?"

"...Yeah."

Appraisal?

The day after that, the third one was already out when I arrived.

A lump in Cheolgeom's arms. It must have been easier than last time—some color remained in her face.

"Should I stay next to you next time? For the birth?"

"No."

Instant answer.

"Don't watch. That kind of thing."

Cheolgeom pushed the lump toward me and turned her head away.

When I touched it, it became a sword—and the moment I gripped it, the weight was different.

Heavier than the second one. The blade was a little longer, and the grain was beautiful.

"A 2-Star!"

The thirty-two percent had hit. So it was true—the overflowing gauge raised the odds of a higher grade.

"Cheolgeom, you're the best!"

I hugged her tight before I knew what I was doing.

"What's wrong with you, that's creepy!"

But I felt no resistance from the Cheolgeom in my arms.

"Get plenty of rest today."

"...Yeah."

I was pulling the blanket over her and getting up when a small voice came from behind me.

"...When are you coming again?"

"Tomorrow."

"...Yeah."

I started to write the message, then stopped.

I'd said I'd take 1,000—on a 1-Star basis. But this one had come out as a 2-Star.

This time, I looked it up first. Bare 2-Star blades went for 400, 500, 600 thousand won. 2-Stars with skills? Still none on the market.

If a bare 1-Star was 50,000 and a 1-Star First Strike was a million, then a 2-Star would be...

I stopped the calculation because it scared me.

The platform displayed the star rank, so I couldn't hide it. And I didn't want to anyway.

-Ding.

"...Four hundred?"

"Holy...!"

The sound escaped me before I could stop it.

Four million won. In my bank account.

And that day, I spent money.

Three months of overdue phone bills. Two overdue building maintenance notices. New sneakers to replace the ones with holes. A winter jacket.

I packed the fridge full of meat and fruit instead of ramen. For dinner, I grilled two pounds of pork belly.

And my account still had over three million left.

The line in my memo app floated up in my head. Ride the bus. 1,000,000 won.

I could afford it now. Three E-Rank runs.

Patting my belly, I opened the gallery.

"Word's out."

Because of two swords I made.

The number on my message inbox kept climbing. Three. Seven. Twelve...

Other skills, huh.

All that came out of Cheolgeom was First Strike Amplification.

I'd worry about that later.

I was lying there full and satisfied when that voice kept coming back to me.

When are you coming again?

Took you long enough. I thought you weren't coming back.

It was the same even when I'd only stepped out to the convenience store for beer. What was a day to me was far, far longer to her.

No phone, no TV worked in that room.

'...She must be lonely.'

I understood that feeling. I grew up in an orphanage, after all.

Then I should just bring her a friend.

Right now, I had the money for it.

When I turned the phone on, the listing looked different from yesterday. A number sat beside each piece of equipment's name. Thousands on some, hundreds on others. Rarely, a zero.

"Ah, so this is the Appraisal."

You could see how much someone had used a thing, as a number. Every used listing had a big number.

'Better than something someone else wore out, right?'

This was a friend for Cheolgeom. Bringing home something someone else had used and thrown away felt a little wrong.

And one more thing.

The scratch on Cheolgeom's side, the stain beneath her collarbone. They matched the dents and rust on that 30,000-won used iron sword exactly.

An equipment's appearance carried over into its female form.

So if the equipment was pretty, the girl would be pretty too.

I was buying her as a friend, but she'd be living in my room with me anyway. All else being equal, I preferred a pretty one.

And that's how I found this.

A 2-Star, brand-new, women's dagger. A blade the size of a palm, with silver flower vines on the sheath. A tiny hammer engraving at the base of the blade—the mark of a blacksmith guild workshop.

It was a model crafted with real attention to its looks, and it cost far more than any other new 2-Star.

Usage Count: 0.

1.2 million won.

A number that would have made yesterday's me's hands tremble—and I pressed the button without a moment's hesitation.

Light bloomed in a corner of my room, and a dagger dropped to the floor with a soft thud. Silver glinted between the flower vines.

"She's pretty..."

No factors. Didn't matter. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was bringing her home as a friend.

"I want to wreck her."

"...You're back?"

Cheolgeom's voice was a little brighter—I'd said tomorrow, but here I was again the same night.

Then it cut off mid-sentence.

A woman lay on the floor beside the bed. A small frame. Flawless, unblemished white skin.

She wore clothes embroidered with silver flower patterns. The same vines that had been carved into the sheath.

Her eyes were closed. She was breathing, but she didn't wake.

"I brought you a friend!"

"..."

"You'd be bored all alone, wouldn't you?"

Cheolgeom climbed off the bed and crouched down next to the woman. She gave her shoulder a light shake.

No response.

Once more. Harder this time.

The woman didn't open her eyes.

'...Huh?'

Come to think of it...

When I touched them, equipment became women. So if I'd brought back the ones I sold, would they have turned into women like this too...?

'...Never mind. They're already sold.'

Thinking about it wouldn't change anything.

Cheolgeom stared down at that face for a long time.

Then, slowly, she raised her head and looked at me.

"Was I like this, when I first got here too?"