Let's Pull Some Cash (1)
After Choi Junseok’s aunt, startled, wired back the remaining 270 million won—excluding the amount she had borrowed—to his account, she fled the building as if escaping.
“Mom, was that why you haven’t been buying groceries or spending money lately?”
“…No, of course not.”
“Do you owe money to any other cousins?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Go inside and rest.”
“Dad’s debt is my debt too. You just heard it yourself—I got 300 million won. It’s fine. The cousins’ loans, the apartment mortgage…”
“…Let’s talk inside.”
Her eyes and the tip of her nose had turned strangely red.
The remaining debt totaled 320 million won. It wasn’t a small amount, but it wasn’t an enormous sum either. In a country drowning in household debt, most people carried at least that much. Still, for an ordinary family that had lost its breadwinner, its home, and its livelihood, it was more than enough to break them.
The bank loan stood at 280 million won, three million owed to his aunt, and another ten million borrowed from acquaintances. After using the condolence money and insurance payout from his father’s funeral to clear the smaller debts and urgent loans, only the 300 million won mortgage on the unsellable apartment remained.
“Mom, don’t worry about the debt anymore. I’ll pay it all off within a month.”
Back in his own apartment, Choi Junseok received a call from Team Leader Kang.
Throughout the conversation his expression grew increasingly grim. Song Hana, who had been playing tag with Kkamdori, froze. Lee Nayeon, mid-swing with Kim Chun-sik’s sword, slowed her movements. Receiving only 300 million won suddenly felt like a fleeting dream.
He had received the money. Yet the final settlement from the tenth floor alone was only around 130 million won.
‘Reality is never that generous.’
Even though he had solo-cleared the tenth floor—a raid floor ending in zero—and claimed every reward, Team Leader Kang’s final words hit like a bolt from the blue.
- The final settlement is 128.74 million won.
“Team Leader Kang.”
- …Yes?
“You definitely said 300 million, didn’t you?”
A brief silence stretched across the line. Ten floors plus the modest earnings from the ninth floor came to roughly 130 million. Even if that was his daily wage, it was an absurd amount of money, yet the disappointment was real. Monsters didn’t always drop items.
“Hold on. Does this mean I now owe the Player Management Agency 170 million won?”
- Think of it as an advance, not a loan. You’ll be climbing the tower again anyway. You seemed to need a lump sum right away, so we fronted it.
“Then where did the original 300 million come from?”
- Well… honestly, I thought it would sell for more. To put it simply, it came from part of the contingency fund allocated to the Function project.
“You didn’t sell it at a bargain price, did you?”
- Absolutely not. It went through a proper online auction.
When Choi Junseok sighed in disappointment, Team Leader Kang tried to console him.
- After taxes, fees, and other deductions… Magic stone sales carry a 53 to 48 percent commission. You’re not suspecting I skimmed anything in the middle, are you?
“I should be tax-exempt. You’re making me feel bad.”
- Junseok, there are two things no player—no human—can avoid.
“…?”
- Death and taxes. No one escapes either.
Team Leader Kang’s voice was firm. If his aunt hadn’t returned the 270 million won she claimed to have borrowed, things could have gone very wrong. The tax office had apparently flagged the large transfer, but moments after the audit notice arrived, a follow-up message canceled the investigation. The Player Management Agency must have stepped in.
Government authority certainly had its perks. They handled annoying matters without being asked.
“You blocked the tax audit too, didn’t you? Then can’t you also cut the player taxes?”
- Junseok, even this settlement amount is after we waived the fees. The actual 130 million is already post-commission.
‘Wait… even that was after fees?’
- The items and magic stones were valued at roughly 300 million before deductions.
“So in other words, taxes and fees normally exceed 50 percent?”
- Which also means we gave you preferential treatment compared to other players… That’s one way to look at it.
Only then did Choi Junseok understand the true engine behind the Magic Towers’ contribution to the national economy. Enormous taxes on tower-related profits were sucking players dry. He had heard high earners faced steep taxes, but this felt especially harsh for someone who had only just begun earning from the towers.
- The higher your income, the higher the tax rate, Junseok. It’s not unique to players. People earning hundreds of millions a year lose half to taxes…
“Is there any other way to reduce the tax burden?”
- Player tax reduction? There are corporations, but…
“A corporation?”
- Since you mentioned wanting to establish a personal guild, you could set up a player corporation. It gets complicated, though. The money won’t feel like it’s truly yours anymore. Still, considering how much you’ll earn going forward, the tax savings would be significant.
High earners faced steep taxes, and for someone who had only just started making money from the towers, the burden felt merciless. At this rate, even clearing all one hundred floors might not buy him a penthouse with a pool, sports cars, or a life draped in luxury brands and art. He would probably remain nothing more than someone who owned a nice apartment in Seoul.
Click.
After hanging up, Choi Junseok let out a long sigh. Yet a clear resolve stirred inside him.
“I’ve finally started earning real money from the towers.”
The scale of incoming funds was finally changing. 130 million won a day—mostly from item drops, but even selling only magic stones would outpace a large corporation salary in a single day. How could that not feel hopeful?
“Everyone, attention.”
Kkamdori, Lee Nayeon, and Song Hana looked up at him with slightly tense expressions. Choi Junseok closed his eyes and nodded quietly.
‘It’s come.’
The inevitable fate of every climber. The destiny of having to seriously start pulling money from the towers.
“We now face a grave climber’s destiny. A fate every climber must eventually confront.”
Gulp.
Everyone swallowed dryly and waited for his next words.
“We have to make money from the towers. And!”
Choi Junseok strode over and hoisted Kkamdori into the air like Simba in The Lion King.
“Our food, our future, the penthouse, and the sports cars all depend on this little guy!”
“Uwooo…!”
“Our quartermaster, then.”
Song Hana gazed at Kkamdori with sparkling eyes while the black dragon purred contentedly under his master’s touch.
─┼
One day later, with 190 days remaining until the collapse of Suseo Magic Tower, a luxury car bearing the three-pointed star logo pulled into the underground parking garage of Choi Junseok’s officetel. When the guard asked the purpose of the visit, the sturdy young man lowered his window slightly and grinned.
“I’m here to see my cousin.”
It was Park Suho, an A-grade player and son of Lee Jin-gyeong.
“You little punk. If you awakened as a player, you should’ve come find your big brother first, right?”
While parking, Park Suho dialed his phone. He had been worried about his cousins Junseok and Hye-ri ever since their father passed away.
‘Sigh. Mom told me not to take the money… but she went anyway and caused a scene.’
According to his mother, Junseok had also awakened as an A-grade player. That couldn’t be right. Park Suho had been planning to write a recommendation letter for him to join Ohsung Guild, one of the five major guilds. Climbing towers was no joke—it was a matter of life and death.
At the same moment, an unknown number rang on Choi Junseok’s phone. Though the number wasn’t saved, he immediately sensed who it was: his cousin Park Suho. His aunt had probably gone home and bragged about Junseok also awakening as an A-grade player.
When he answered, Park Suho’s unfamiliar yet oddly familiar voice came through.
- Hello? Hey, Junseok, it’s Suho hyung. How’ve you been?
“Ah… It’s been a while. Have you been well?”
- Me? Yeah, same as always. Whew… Mom went to your new place yesterday and threw a fit. Sorry about that, man.
He was still the same good-natured cousin. They had been close as children; distance had simply grown with age.
“Heard you awakened as an A-grade player. Congrats! Man… A-grade? Your life’s set now.”
A-grade. Typically, A-grade players were considered top-tier even within the five major guilds—essentially the upper one percent of the player world.
“If it’s okay, I was thinking of stopping by. Haha, actually I’m already in your officetel’s underground parking lot!”
Sending him away was an option, but it would only lead to more complications later. Choi Junseok decided it was inevitable anyway and nodded.
“Sure, hyung. Of course. Come up to 1302.”
He then unsummoned Kkamdori and turned to Song Hana, who looked disappointed.
“I need to disguise myself as an A-grade player. Is that possible?”
“…It is, but so suddenly?”
Song Hana hurriedly pulled out talisman paper and began drawing. Lee Nayeon drew Kim Chun-sik’s sword with a metallic ring.
“We’re not fighting.”
Lee Nayeon calmly inspected both edges of the blade before sheathing it again.
“I was aware.”
Before Song Hana could finish the talisman, the elevator chime sounded. Choi Junseok opened the door just as Park Suho raised his hand to knock.
The moment the door opened, Park Suho greeted him with a bright smile, but his eyes immediately activated his appraisal skill.
‘…E-grade?’
“Wait. Junseok, didn’t you say you were A-grade?”
Park Suho’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing. A slightly hostile atmosphere settled over him.
“Hey, Junseok. Pretending to be a higher grade is a serious crime. I’m not the kind of guy who looks down on lower grades, but if you’re going around faking your rank like other players…”
“That’s enough!”
At that moment, a cute girl came running from behind and threw herself against Choi Junseok’s back. Park Suho’s stern face softened at the sight of her beauty. Choi Junseok received the talisman behind his back and spoke.
“No, hyung, what are you talking about? Appraise me again.”
“…What?”
This time the appraisal clearly displayed A-grade on Choi Junseok’s status window.
‘…Huh?’
What? He had definitely seen E-grade earlier.
“…Sorry. I must’ve misread. A-grade, huh.”
Of course, the skill name and exact grade remained unreadable. Meeting his cousin after so long only to be met with suspicion left Park Suho feeling slightly hurt, but it was standard practice—and a virtue—among players not to reveal unnecessary information about their skills.
‘At least he knows to be cautious.’
“By the way, who’s the person behind you?”
“Hello! I’m a teammate!”
Park Suho’s eyes widened. Two reasons: the girl behind Choi Junseok was S-grade, and an elegant beauty was walking up behind her. For a moment he was speechless at Lee Nayeon’s appearance before regaining his composure.
“Have you been well? Please come in. These two are players I’ve been climbing the towers with as a team.”
Bow.
Even Lee Nayeon’s cool, slight nod struck Park Suho as beautiful. His long-unseen cousin seemed to be doing remarkably well.
“You… really have been doing great, haven’t you?”
Well enough that he was tempted to quit his own guild and join Junseok’s team.