The Four-Star SS Class-Exclusive Special Option

Lim Sarang went to confession.

"The truth is, I'm not really the lucky type... Today just happens to be a little kind to me."

"...You're not wrong. At this rate, Sarang, you'll do more than threaten my spot."

"Ahaha... no, no. It's only a short lucky streak. I'd feel so wronged. If I'd been lucky my whole life, then maybe."

Flustered, she waved it off, but luck really was a frightening thing. I hadn't spent enough for the money to weigh on me, and yet for ordinary people I'd at least planted a healthy fear—wow, so that's what it costs to wear a five-star. Lim Sarang didn't even give them that. And the scariest thing of all is planting the thought that maybe I could do it too, isn't it? The chat was already full of people wondering whether they ought to try.

"Everyone, pull yourselves together. And while you're at it, take a look at how much the people currently live-streaming their class pulls have spent."

I'd planned to hunt alone through the early game, but I'd never imagined I could carve a path through Haven by myself forever. Form a party. Build a guild. In my head, I'd already been sorting the content I meant to milk the game for, efficiently and without waste. Then Lim Sarang went and did something reckless, I watched that luck with my own eyes, and I knew the plan needed a small revision.

"Everyone. I've made a decision today."

"A fixed party. I'm putting one together."

"Yes. Starting with the Slime King, I'll be taking it down with Sarang. From here on, she comes into every one of my dungeons as my healer."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

People loved it. The users who'd been holding out for solo content did raise their voices the other way.

"Don't worry. My original, patented content—the solo dungeon clear—I'll still be running that separately."

"Of course. A party of two five-stars. As of now, that's still a world first, isn't it?"

Honestly, I'd had my doubts when Haven Online first began. I understood, of course—the structure of the class gacha, and that one fatal flaw, the fact that you couldn't save a pull, which condemned you to dig an endless mine before you ever laid a hand on the emerald. The sheer unfairness of it. But set all of that aside. Why had there not been a single person willing to spend whatever it took to pull the emerald no one else possessed, a five-star?

Maybe it was because hard information on five-stars never got out, and they dropped so rarely that the word on the street became don't bother pulling. A game this big, and still. You'd think one or two people would have sniped one anyway. Those questions were being answered now, and I was the reason.

Deep down, everyone must have wanted one. Must have ached to have one. But in those early days after launch, the mood was what it was. No one knew the world of Haven would grow this large, or that this many people would come to play it. Everyone simply settled for a four-star if one happened to appear at all, because even sniping a four-star had been brutally hard. A five-star, back then, was something only a handful chosen by God could barely scrape into being on luck alone.

But now it was different. I had shown them. A five-star was a class with this kind of potential. Of course, you had to step one layer deeper, into a Root Class, before potential on that scale came into view. I had been the first to show it, and Lim Sarang had driven the nail in. Cling to those two years and you would be left behind. The rankers were the rankers, for now. In the end, the users who pulled a five-star would plant a foot on them and climb.

Well. For the moment I was still a level-eleven newbie who had spent an entire week rolling options just for a shot at a field boss. I would show them. And to show them, I had to pull.

At first the bet had been mostly a pretext, an excuse to roll Lim Sarang a three-star SS special option. Then I watched her pull a one-star SS in ten minutes, and that feeling shrank. How to put it. I had learned she was a woman whose luck I didn't need to worry over. What I wanted, more than that, was to receive it. The wish. The wish that said she would grant me anything. I had insisted to the viewers—absolutely not, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't that kind of wish. And still. The wish I wanted to win, and then just have. That wish!!!!!

"Hff. Hff. Spin. Faster."

The auto-roll took exactly the same time no matter how I rushed it, but I shoved my face right up to the screen and stared holes through it. The first real competitive fire I'd ever felt. Lim Sarang, by contrast, sat at her ease, watching me with an amused little smile.

Did such a thing even exist? The doubt flickered through me for just a moment.

This hadn't seemed like Lim Sarang's image. She was a ranker mage who had played Haven in earnest, and if you went looking through the community boards for her reputation and the rumors around her, what you found was a likable mage with solid control who also spent a great deal of money. Not a gamer who played this shamelessly, click-click, on nothing but luck.

Fortunately, the catastrophe of it dropping again inside ten minutes did not repeat itself. Instead, right around the time we filled out two hours—

"Kya! It popped again!"

Lim Sarang shot to her feet once more, cheering. This time I couldn't match her.

"It dropped! Fuuuuuck yes!"

Each of us shouting our own thing, we bounced, we ran, and we ended up jumping straight into a hug. For that one moment, the thought that it was embarrassing, or that holding her was awkward, never even arrived. It had been nearly a full week of wondering whether this thing would ever drop. From here on out, it really was brutal. Giving up... I had no intention of that, but how long was I supposed to keep at this? I'd sunk into plenty of agony over it. And then it popped all at once, and every one of those worries flipped into joy and wiped my head a blank white.

It didn't last, of course.

"..."

"..."

I was the one still holding on, and I was the one who eased back first. Lim Sarang retreated two steps as well, her face flushed a deep red. We sat down again as if nothing had happened.

"No. This is a special happy-points situation, all right?"

"Right. When you're that happy, it can happen."

"Right, right. You know the World Cup, don't you? Back then, people who didn't even know each other's faces were throwing their arms around one another."

"Uh... fair. I wasn't. Anyway."

"Right, right. I wasn't either, but that's how it went."

"..."

"..."

Anyway, once the feelings had settled a little, we looked at Lim Sarang's option first. Someone could have asked what the fuss was over a mere two-star SS, but the option itself was worth every bit of the fuss.

"We're a perfect couple, aren't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we?"

"...We are, aren't we... hehe."

An SS had dropped, and of all things it was the same breed of mana-cost option as mine.

Was I really allowed to call that a coincidence? Of course, if you assumed there simply weren't that many SS options, and if the sort of common option I'd thrown away once never showed up, then landing the exact same line might not have been so difficult. Low grades could spit out endless useless options, but slipping something useless into a high-grade option was a harder sell. Whatever you called it, she was lucky. That much was true. And it was also true that my unique options and Lim Sarang's had become a matching couple set, all the way out to two stars. It made me want to hang some grand meaning on it.

"Looks like Windy's giving us a present, to celebrate us becoming soul-buddies."

"Oh my. That's huge."

Lim Sarang caught my cheesy line without missing a beat. Seeing her only inside Haven, I'd always thought she seemed a little shy, but the more comfortable she grew, the more of that good nature came out. And since my own option had dropped as well, I was definitely overdoing it more than usual. If it had been nothing but an ordinary SS-grade option, I might actually have been disappointed. Let a stack you'd built for that long burst on something like that, and—superstition, sure—the feeling that you had to start piling it up again from nothing would only come on harder.

Four stars. SS. A special option.

"God. Windy. Thank you so much. And Buddha too. In all the world, an option that looks this goddamn good at a single glance..."

It was the moment the long grind felt worth it. I seemed to be the only one who thought so.

"Really, congratulations!"

I was grateful that Lim Sarang, at least, meant it.