Rolling the Class Exclusive Options

The class was made, and at last I logged into the game.

"Whoa. First login in days."

It hadn't taken all that long. Three days of rolling, maybe—was today the third? If it had dragged, I'd braced for a full month, but if anything it had come up faster than I'd expected. And wasn't everyone saying the same thing.

It was a game people enjoyed in the hundred-millions. Not merely a game—a market where simply playing earned you money. The moment it turned into an investment, the unit of money changed, and of course plenty of people were said to have spent billions. The problem was that they hadn't pulled it.

There were surely plenty of rich people who could keep spending until a five-star appeared. But to hunt a five-star, you had to throw away every four-star that showed up along the way. Endless money, poured into digging for an emerald mine that might never surface? And more important than any of that—pulling the class wasn't the whole story. That was why they said my luck was good.

"Alright. So what should we try first?"

Logged in at last, the scenery was familiar. Seoul. The buildings sat a little differently, but I knew the shape of it.

"Whoa. This is wild."

It was astonishing. Virtual reality. I knew it was a game, and still there wasn't a shred of disconnect—nothing in me believed this was a virtual world.

"Whoa."

I moved. It was natural. It felt like my own body.

"Insane."

"Status window!"

I did exactly what the chat told me to.

The window was clean. Everything sat at 1, except mana at 10—and a mana of 10 was apparently high.

"Is mana 10 good?"

"Aha."

So the money had been worth it.

"This is how it ought to be."

I was pleased with myself. For a user who'd dropped 3.4 billion, the payoff had to be at least this good—otherwise you couldn't even call it a pay-to-win hell game.

"What should we do next?"

Before stepping into Haven Online, I had studied up on the things I was supposed to do. But the moment I turned the stream on, I understood: not the theory. The field tips from people actually playing Haven were far more useful. And didn't a single word from me get them explaining it all so kindly.

"Ah."

The viewer count had already passed a hundred thousand. Korean and every other language were being translated up into the chat, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠which told me just how enormous a five-star really was. I could feel Haven's popularity in my bones. Hours of them, watching a stream from a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nobody like me—someone who wasn't even entertaining.

And then, all at once, the urge to mess with them kicked in. If not now, when was I ever going to cash in on the attention.

"Not for free, though."

"Ahem."

I sat down with my arms folded, the look of a man waiting for something, and laughed at the chat detonating in front of me. This was the flavor. I'd meant to tease them a little and then show it.

And then.

"Gah!"

I shot up out of my seat, just as startled as they were. A fifty-million-won donation. The first money I had ever been given in my life.

"Aigoo. Money like this. I was joking.... You really didn't have to..."

Next to what I'd spent pulling the class, of course, it was a drop in the bucket. But spending money you already have and taking money from someone else don't weigh the same. It felt like more attention than I deserved. The mood in chat, though, wasn't the shock of a huge number going off.

"Is this person famous?"

Curiosity about the donor named Sarang. One muttered line, and the chat caught fire even hotter.

"Huh? Lovely?"

Explanations of Sarang flooded the chat. An idol and an actress, they said. Also the hottest commercial model around these days. In a word, a celebrity.

"Ah!! No way. Don't tell me it's that Sarang?"

The truth was, I didn't know her. For nearly two years in the military I'd watched seniors and juniors put on girl-group videos, but I'd never cared. Losing yourself in that was one way to forget grief; I had chosen other ways. Even so, I couldn't honestly say I didn't know her. Not here. It wasn't that I wasn't allowed to—it was more that the air felt like saying it would get someone killed. The problem was only that my acting had been a little clumsy.

"Come on. Anyway, thank you. A famous person is watching, and I can't make them wait. Revealing it right now!"

To drag their eyes somewhere else, I opened the class information at once.

"Oh."

Reading the description, even I—playing a game for the first time—could tell.

"This is good, right?"

Profanity everywhere. Rage, wall to wall—rage at Haven Online. In a game built on motivation through an unmistakable gap, it was showing them exactly what the highest-grade class looked like.

In truth, almost nothing solid had ever been released about five-star classes. Only three users owned one, and even they had never properly made the information public. In a sense, this was a first. Which was why there was someone willing to donate a fortune of fifty million won just to see it. And this time, it had come out for certain.

"No casting is good, right?"

The viewers laid it out for me.

The conclusion was simple.

"Hell yeah."

Just imagining it made my heart race. Magic embroidering the sky, and my own endless magic chasing right behind it.

Before I knew it, people were looking forward to it. Even while their stomachs twisted with envy, the five empty stars beneath the class info seemed to pull a smile out of them anyway.

"What are these?"

Why were they empty? I had a feeling I knew.

"Don't tell me this is a pull too?"

"Whoa."

The gasp came out on its own. I pay 3.4 billion to pull a class, and now they want me to pull the options inside it with money too? And now I understood what people meant when they said the higher the grade, the more it costs.

And why people went red-eyed trying to pull a high grade. Exclusive options. Just owning one more than someone else already opened a gap in the game. A one-star and a three-star differed by two exclusive options. A one-star and a four-star, by three.

"No matter what you do, you can't catch a five-star, can you?"

"So I have to do another reroll stream?"

Hearing prices that made no sense, my heart pounded. Had I turned into a full degenerate too? The will to take the challenge caught fire. Could Haven Online even punch a hole in a balance that looked like it wouldn't show a scratch if I spent it my whole life? I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠curious, too.