2. Struck Rich Overnight!
California, Santa Monica Beach.
The region was renowned for its balmy Mediterranean climate, so people's outfits were exceedingly light. It was summer to begin with, and a beach at that—tourists in Hawaiian shirts wandered about freely, while women in bikinis were a common sight.
Stunning beauties strutting in perfectly fitted bikinis drew the gazes of every man around, and the sight of adorable kids building sandcastles with their shovels brought warm smiles to countless faces.
But amid it all, one thing captured the most attention.
"What the heck is that?"
"Looks like... a sunbed?"
"A sunbed on the sand? This isn't a hotel beach!"
Right in the middle of the sand was a pristine white luxury sunbed.
If it had just been a lone sunbed of mysterious origin, one might dismiss it as some eccentric's whim. But there was a parasol staked behind it, and beside that, a matching white side table.
And atop the sunbed itself?
A petite East Asian girl lounged languidly in a Hawaiian shirt bursting with green palm leaf patterns.
Yes, a girl.
She had her legs crossed seductively, sipping zero cola from a glass as if it were a cocktail, but no matter how you looked at her, she appeared no older than a seventh- or eighth-grader.
The bizarre yet somehow perfectly fitting scene drew murmurs from the throng of Americans and tourists alike.
"She's clearly just a tiny kid playing grown-up... so why does that nonchalance feel so natural?"
"What's wrong with that? She's cute. Kids always wanna seem mature. Anyway, she's gorgeous, isn't she?"
"I never got why my daughter obsesses over those scrawny K-pop boy idols. Now I think I understand her feelings."
"What kinda dangerous talk is that?"
Casual tourists praised the girl's beauty without a second thought. If the goddess of beauty Aphrodite descended to earth, wouldn't she look something like that? A younger Aphrodite, perhaps.
Meanwhile, those with sharper eyes had different conversations.
"See that sunbed? I think that thing costs a fortune..."
"And that shirt and shorts? Designer labels, all of 'em."
"Hm, rich girl from some chaebol family? No bodyguards, though."
"You idiot. Real rich folks hate making normals feel out of place. Imagine suits and shades on a beach resort—total vibe killer. That's why you went to Brown instead of Harvard."
"Ugh, wish I had a girlfriend that rich and pretty."
"Dream on, loser. Or go hit on her. Though some jacked dudes would probably snatch you up on suspicion alone."
Their mutterings varied, but the conclusion was the same.
The girl was breathtakingly beautiful.
Her otherworldly allure worked its magic, ensnaring the gaze of everyone on the beach.
So relaxed.
How many years had it been since I'd savored leisure like this?
Ever since getting dragged to that other world, I'd been run like a dog. Hell, even back in modern times, I'd been rolling in the dirt nonstop.
So this was my well-earned respite.
A true, long-overdue break after eons.
Slurp.
I lounged on the sunbed, basking in the warm sunlight, idly sipping lime-flavored zero Pepsi. After a moment, the growing commotion around me made me lift a finger and subtly push up my sunglasses.
Without the shades' protection, the sun's rays pierced my eyes from the clear blue sky—but instead of wincing, a sinister chuckle escaped my lips.
The crowd around me was staring, whispering about something.
Murmur murmur murmur.
'Feels just like when I brought the Demon King's head to the holy city.'
I had no idea what they were saying.
I could speak the other world's tongue, but English? Not a chance.
Sigh, why didn't that other world use English? If they had, I'd be fluent by now, thanks to Uncle Sam's language.
But who cared about English anymore?
'Just hire a translator. Why bother learning it myself?'
Grinning wickedly, I checked my phone's banking app.
And there it was—a staggering cascade of digits.
Hello, Seongwon!
$20,209,140,000.00
Twenty billion dollars. Eleven digits strong.
In won? Let's see...
A little under 27 trillion.
I let out a creepy laugh.
"Heh, heheheh."
Yes, this was it. This balanced the scales.
How hard had I fought to save that godforsaken other world? Sure, it fell a bit short as compensation for my suffering, but it wasn't an insult to my dedication.
Twenty-seven trillion won. If I'd stayed in the modern world like a normie, could I have scraped together even 2.7 billion? Doubtful.
"Heheheheh..."
I could feel the beachgoers staring even harder at me, lost in delirious bliss and cackling ominously, but I couldn't care less.
With twenty billion in the bank, who gave a damn how they saw me? A mere 0.0001% of the 'power' and 'wisdom' in my account would have them on their knees.
Who was I? A twenty-seven-trillion-won asset holder.
Nothing could stop me now.
"Hehihihihi..."
I cackled for a good while before sensing footsteps approaching from behind.
The immense power I'd gained in the other world had vanished upon my return, but my senses—honed to superhuman heights—remained.
Thanks to that, I easily detected someone heading straight for me.
Not that I reacted much.
"Good day. I'm David Kim, private banker with Goldman Sachs."
Why bother? I already knew who it was.
A quick glance sideways revealed a suited East Asian man in his late thirties or early forties, smiling politely. Judging by the surname, they'd sent a Korean-American as I'd requested from the bank. He was speaking Korean, so that checked out.
"Seongwon here. Last name Seong, first name Won."
"Yes, Ms. Seongwon. Before we proceed, allow me to congratulate you on your win. The sole Super Mega Ball jackpot in two years—truly, the goddess of fortune herself must have descended upon you."
"Hm. Luck, huh..."
Sure, becoming a twenty-seven-trillion-won heiress was thrilling, but this wasn't some random stroke of fate. I'd grinded savior metas in that other world, hadn't I?
Reducing it to 'lucky life-reversal jackpot' felt a tad melancholic. Of course, David Kim had no clue, so I'd cut him some slack.
But perhaps sensing my mood sour, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His tongue sprang into damage control.
"N-No doubt! It must be because you've done so many good deeds in the past. Fortune favors the benevolent, after all."
Elite through and through. Dodging a minefield with acrobatic finesse in seconds flat. No wonder Goldman Sachs had him as a private banker.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Sharp intuition, mister."
"Ha, haha."
Snickering, I rose from the sunbed.
As I stood, blocking his view for a split second, I sensed him dab the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. He was trying hard, so I let it slide.
No one in this world could act under my senses' radar anyway. And that quick discretion? Impressive.
"Let's talk my money."
"Of course. First, may I ask if you have any investment philosophies or preferences? Any guiding principles? If so, I'll craft a portfolio that adheres to them while maximizing returns."
Hm. How to invest. Crucial stuff.
Let money sit idle, and inflation eats it; snowball it wrong, and you're broke overnight. Basic knowledge, no econ degree required.
But...
"No grand philosophies here."
Did I even need to bother?
With 27 trillion won?
27,000,000,000,000 won. Wow! How many zeros was that? Too many to count without wasting a day.
And investment savvy? Please.
Until claiming the prize at the U.S. bank, I didn't even know what futures or options were.
Futures and options? Like picking birthday gift options? As an orphan who'd never gotten any, I was clueless.
"No plans to meddle in investments anyway. Just set aside what I'll spend and roll the rest however."
David Kim burst out laughing at my reply.
"Haha. Excellent sense of humor."
"Dead serious. Though preserving principal would be nice. Growing it? Even better."
But as I added that, his face slowly stiffened. I fixed him with a silent stare, and his pupils quivered like they were in an earthquake.
"Y-You're serious?"
"Totally. Oh, and I need about 50 billion won wired to Korea—minimize taxes? Gotta spend there, but hate getting gouged."
"My god."
Realizing I meant it, David Kim dragged his hands down his face. He chewed his lip for a long moment before steeling himself.
"Th-then, may I ask why you requested PB services? You don't seem interested in asset growth, and wiring 3.5 million dollars to Korea could be done cheaper with specialists—why full private banking?"
His words tumbled out in a rush. So tense he slipped into "Korea" and dollar conversions, though the figures were spot-on.
I shrugged.
"Delegate what I suck at to experts. I know zilch about investing, but place the right talent, and things run smooth. Especially with overflowing cash—obvious to hire pros."
He swallowed dryly.
Visibly rattled. Probably the first client with this much dough acting this way.
But what did I know? Ignorance meant hands-off.
'Never worried about this under Lord God.'
Back then, my head spun nonstop, but I had a devoted saintess, cardinals galore, bishops, and hordes of helpers.
Those were good times... wait, no.
'Is this gaslighting?'
Anyway, reconsidering, I needed subordinates to help. For an easy life.
I eyed the still-flustered David Kim. Yale grad elite, per Goldman Sachs—connections, skills, the works.
'In that case...'
Straightening up, I made my pitch.
"How about working for me instead?"
"Pardon?"
"Simple terms: employment."
He gulped again.
"Aren't I already employed by you?"
A fragile smile, feigning incomprehension with insincere words.
Too bad—I could read hearts from heartbeats alone. Ever tried demon pulse lie detection? I had.
"You're Goldman Sachs right now. Let's change that."
"..."
"Realized I need a secretary type, not just money manager. Interested in chief of staff?"
I tapped my smartphone, grinning.
"Dunno your Goldman pay, but I'll double—no, multiply it several times. Same for authority. Thoughts? No pressure if not."
"...I'll consider it."
Sweat pouring, that was his reply. Natural retreat for now.
'But can you really?'
Don't let the looks fool you—I'd run a religious order for years. Tamed wild zealots; reeling in a desk-jockey pen-pusher? Child's play.
'David Kim, you're mine.'
Work like a slave under me.