Two Five-Stars and a Loadout

I'd been too busy admiring the harmony of light and dark to pay it any mind, but the five-star armor from the loot rewards had excellent options of its own.

People were recommending it.

I wasn't really feeling it.

"It's got Magic +5 and 5% magic damage. Do I really have to throw that away?"

"Hmm."

Personally, the slime hat was more my style. I prefer offense to defense. Still, I couldn't brush the viewers off entirely. The way they put it, what mattered for me wasn't blindly stacking damage like a glass cannon—it was staying alive while still putting out overwhelming DPS. What good is any of it if you die?

This level-1 five-star dungeon had been a special case. I'd only chosen to brute-force it with extreme attack power. In most situations, dealing damage without dying matters more, and it isn't wise to let that habit settle in early. From level 30 on, the cost of dying even once would be enormous. No matter how much money I had, that was a way of playing I ought to avoid.

So I took the advice.

"Then let's do it like this. Easy spots, I wear the slime hat. Anywhere that looks dangerous, the World Tree helm."

Haven has no inventory, but it does have magic backpacks—a pocket inventory that does roughly the same job. You can stash things in one and carry them, or leave them at home and gear up whenever you head into a dungeon. Most people store the pocket inventory at home, since there's a real chance of losing it. Anyone playing Haven with any seriousness tends to have at least one house in their own name.

"Maybe I should buy a house..."

A house isn't a perfectly secure system either, but so long as the building itself isn't destroyed, another user can't walk out carrying items stored inside.

You could furnish a house that way, they said, and my interest stirred. Swapping gear and building loadouts was something rankers already did. No need to overthink it.

"Five-stars don't even cost that much. I won't sell them. I'll do it that way."

Decision made, I moved at once.

"Where's a good place for a house?"

Names started piling up. Every user connecting to Haven from Korea begins in Seoul, so plenty of those names overlapped—luxury complexes tucked into quieter districts, apartment towers, the lot. None of them lined up with anything in the real world.

"Hmm. In real life too, I like somewhere easy to get to."

Most of what chat was throwing up would be good homes. I spend a lot, so the suggestions were bound to skew expensive. Even among those, I needed one that fit me. My conditions were simple. I already lived in a tower penthouse with hotel service waiting on me; convenience was what I wanted. The recommendations narrowed to a single name.

"The Windy mixed-use complex. That's a funny coincidence."

The heart of the industrial complex where I'd handled all that business. The soaring mixed-use tower standing there was the place we finally settled on. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't realized it was mixed-use. Hearing it described, the location really was excellent.

"Nice. Here. I'll go with this one."

"...Sorry?"

I'd been strolling toward the real estate office on the first floor in a perfectly good mood when the chat stopped me cold. Had I misread that? I looked again.

"You mean four or five million, right?"

"Whoa..."

From where I stood—someone who tosses tens of billions into the game without blinking—the price almost felt fine. Not feeling the burden and being shocked by the number are still two different things.

"Housing prices here are even more hellish than real life."

People startled at what I'd muttered without thinking. I ran the numbers. I'd have to hear the exact price at the office, but if the rumor held and the sale price was 75 billion, a cash exchange rate of 2.5 turned that into 30 billion.

"...Almost the same."

How much had I paid for the penthouse again? It hadn't been that long, and already I couldn't remember. Somewhere around there, probably. Would anyone sink that kind of money into a Haven house that isn't even real? If you're so rich your cash is rotting and you live more in Haven than in reality, it isn't impossible. But why? I was turning that over—why buy a house in a game where not having one barely inconveniences you?—when chat started eagerly trading the upsides of a Haven home among themselves.

"Whoa. For real?"

I talk to Windy directly, and this was the first I'd heard of it. A feature like that exists? I knew Haven was linked to reality and offered all sorts of services, but I hadn't known that signing a home this way handed you one in the real world too.

"Oho."

In that case. I had no intention of giving up the penthouse I already had, but curiosity had me. I stepped into the office and asked.

"Among the largest floor plans, is there a unit available for sale?"

Listings arranged themselves into a message before my eyes—building and unit, floor area, price.

"Ninety-one billion?"

Buying this would mean purchasing an apartment of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same size in the real world. Even so, it was expensive.

"If I buy Seocho Windy Apartments in real life, how much is it?"

"Whoa..."

For a moment I considered just renting. But I'd decided to start taking Haven seriously, and having come this far, I meant to see it through.

"I'll take it."

And so I had a house in Haven as well. Step outside and the subway was right there; the nearby amenities were a short walk. In some ways the location was better than my home in reality. More than that, the place was so large I could use it however I liked, the way you'd use a warehouse.

It was already furnished. They'd said fully optioned, and they weren't kidding—everything that ought to be there was there. One enormous room even held mannequins you could dress in gear.

"Whoa. Looking at this, I kind of want to plaster the whole place in five-stars."

The view was good, too. My penthouse in reality sat higher and showed off the Seoul skyline better in a single sweep, but this was something else. Haven's thirty-fourth floor felt stranger. More dreamlike. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dungeons scattered here and there, a Magic Tower thrusting up between modern buildings, a temple in a medieval style. Farther off, blighted land—an unexplored region still waiting to be opened. Modern and fantasy, blended, all in one view.

"As long as I'm at it. Let's go get that last five-star."

Putting Haven together piece by piece had woken my greed. One accessory slot, still empty. I wanted to fill it.