What's Wrong with a Commoner Obsessing Over Money?

What's wrong with a commoner like me being a little obsessed with money? Honestly, now that I had some cash to my name, I wanted to dash to a department store, go on a shopping spree, and start house-hunting right away. I'm basically homeless, you see. My junkyard is both my home and my workplace. Sure, my bank balance screamed "hundreds of millions," but slurping cup ramen in the stinky corner of a scrap heap felt a bit unfair, even for a small-time guy like me.

But I held back. I had no idea how time flowed over there or when and where a message might pop up in the Multidimensional Secondhand Market group chat, so I decided to stay put calmly in the junkyard. Missing one could spell disaster.

Better to practice than kill time aimlessly.

I sat on my workbench chair and started getting a feel for the two Dragon Words magics Jermad had taught me a few days ago: Suh and Cheok, alternating between them.

After diving deep into Dragon Words magic for several days, I reached one conclusion: this was an insanely overpowered cheat skill beyond imagination.

The scariest thing about Dragon Words, from actually using them, was number one: the mana consumption was ridiculously low.

In typical fantasy novels or games, casting a spell guzzles a huge chunk of mana. But Dragon Words were different. I could trickle out just as much mana as I wanted, like turning a faucet.

"Suh."

I loaded the tiniest speck of mana onto my fingertip and uttered the word. A scrap of receipt paper on the floor fluttered up lightly into my palm.

Telekinesis. You know telekinesis?

"Heh heh heh."

I felt like a martial arts master from wuxia tales.

Conversely, ramping up the mana for Cheok let me shove around hunks of metal weighing hundreds of kilograms with ease. Depending on the mana input—from light paper to massive steel slabs—the limit was unknown as long as my mana held out.

Could I move buildings later on?

And the second advantage—maybe the biggest one: zero cast time.

No long chants or gathering ambient mana. The moment I spoke, it activated instantly. Pure will converting straight to physical force—an absolute authority manifesting in the world. It felt less like a wizard's ranged spell and more like a martial expert's technique.

The only downside? Dragon Words magic required speaking aloud. A bit embarrassing, grunting "suh-cheok-suh-cheok" like that...

I started practicing balance by using Cheok to push my body away.

"Whoa... I'm floating! Flying!"

A movement technique firing Cheok from my soles to repel off the ground. But balance was tricky.

Yeah, this was a good way to pass the time.

"Something's off..."

I anxiously toggled my smartphone screen on and off repeatedly. The alchemist had sworn a week was plenty for the promise, but that deadline had passed. Today ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made ten days.

I'd messaged the group chat several times, but the replies were all negative.

The priest and elder were anxious too, but the alchemist who needed to replicate the vaccine? Radio silence.

Damn... did it fail?

Anxiety hit hard. Maybe I'd been too naive. Reverse-engineering Earth's pinnacle of modern medicine—a chemical vaccine and antiviral—with no high-tech gear in a fantasy world? Even for a genius alchemist, that wasn't easy.

A quick search showed vaccine reverse-engineering demanded insane tech and facilities.

They must have cows over there. Should've sent the original smallpox vaccine method—scraping pus from cowpox sores onto skin cuts—instead of the finished product?

That would've fit their tech level better, higher success odds.

Sigh... pivot to primitive variolation now?

As I seethed and searched variolation info again—

Ding! My phone blared—a notification in the dead group chat after days.

"...!"

I shot up from my seat. The alchemist!

The chat exploded in joy.

No, not quite that deep...

The kingdom's top mages and alchemist grinding ten days nonstop. I sighed in relief, slumping into my chair.

Phew... close one. Thought my 70 billion was gone.

Through the chat, I could picture millions saved on a grand scale. My casual Earth knowledge and a few vials had pulled massive nations from annihilation. Sure, it was a calculated trade for the World Tree Fruit, but knowing I'd saved a world still swelled my chest with odd pride and grandeur.

"Yeah, hero status unlocked."

I grinned dopily—

Ding!

"It's here!"

A cheer burst from me. Trembling, I opened my inventory and reached into the air.

Flash!

What dropped into my palm wasn't some ordinary apple or peach. It was a pulsing orb of light, deep green and gold fused like a living heart.

Just touching it flooded me with forest phytoncide scent, washing away fatigue through skin and nose—an immense vitality. Like holding an entire forest in my hand.

Whoa, insane. This permanently boosts mana!?

Out of nowhere—I replied.

"What...? Pass out and I become a tree...?"

The elder's warning chilled my spine. But no reason to hesitate. Seo Ara was coming next week for her weapon—if my mana didn't hit 100, 7 billion won vanished.

"Alright. Die? Nah. Down the hatch."

Deep breath. Fist-sized light orb to my lips—gulp.

It melted into sweet, cool liquid, sliding down my throat.

"Huh? Tasty..."

Three seconds later.

"Gaaahhhh!!!"

A scream ripped out. Like ten thousand volts slamming my gut. The World Tree's mana crashed head-on with the Dragon Heart's wild mana coiled in my heart.

Rumble!! Crack!!

"Guhk...! Cough! You said it rarely happens!!"

I collapsed, body arching like a bow in spasms. Extreme energies fused, grinding my insides like a blender. Veins bulged red and blue, skin swelling to burst.

"Aaaagh!! Kraaagh!!"

Vision flashed white. Pain beyond human limits—brain trying to shut down.

Sight blurring, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠darkness encroaching.

Ah, just... pass out... it'd be easy...

Sweet temptation to quit. Death. I'd die. If I passed out here...

Die, and my 7 billion?!

Suddenly, Seo Ara's face and "7,000,000,000" burned clear in my fading mind.

"No...!!"

Can't die without spending it—turn into a tree?! Hell no!! After scraping grease for pennies, with billions in reach!

"N-No! Can't lose consciousness! My 7 billion!! My 7 biiiillioooon!!!"

Teeth grinding till blood, nails scraping cement to break, eyes bulging bloodshot—I fought.

Greed for massive capital over death's fear anchored my flickering mind.

"Grrraaah!! 7 billion! My 7 billion!!"

Pain divided by 7 billion—what per second? I madly calculated internally, bones crushing, refusing to let go. Think rationally. This agony lasts a minute!?

"H-Hourly no!! Per-minute 7 billion!! Gaaahhhh!!"

Brainwashing myself—pain equals profit—I endured the screams.

Soon after.

Ding—

"Hahk, haaah... fuck. Survived. I survived! No tree!"

My money obsession scared even me. Sprawled trembling— but the fruit healed me in seconds. Soon mobile, I checked the mirror.

"What the...? Hair grew this much? Wait—taller too?"

My reflection had changed drastically. What happened? Curiosity peaked—