The Thirty-Billion-Won Bet

"...? Why? This kind of system wasn't even in any other game. So why..."

One look at the options and heat shot straight through me.

"This is actually fun?"

Whoever first stuck the words slot machine on it had been dead right. The instant the first and second options landed on the same line, every nerve I had snapped onto the third.

Please. Please.

It had you praying right up until the second it stopped. And then the figure I'd been told was 9 percent came up 13 instead, so it felt like the thing had been buffed on top of everything else.

"It's 13 percent because it's level 5, right?"

Having an option that paid out better than everyone else's felt pretty good.

"So three lines of 13 percent is 39. Stack that on three badges and it's 117 percent total?"

The higher your level, and the closer you climbed toward ranker, the more your setup for fighting boss monsters started to matter. Ordinary monsters could be handled well enough with party synergy and practiced movement, but a boss had enormous base health, and you could never predict which pattern it would throw next — so the lower your damage, the more of those patterns you were forced to watch.

Field bosses only grew more important as the levels climbed. In Haven especially, taking back a region the monsters had occupied meant killing the field boss, and a field boss was still a boss. That was why a bonus-boss-damage option was as close to mandatory as anything got for rankers.

Of course, the rankers who really built their setups properly were said to carry two different badges.

"Oh... so that's a thing too. I wouldn't need to, though, right? Shame. I kind of want two setups myself."

Just picturing it was enough to look good — six level 5 badges, each with a different setup, swapped in whenever I needed them.

"If something decent shows up later, I'll make a spare. Why not."

The money wasn't draining as fast as I'd expected, either. Fifty thousand won a pull. Cheaper than a class draw. And the options seemed to be hitting well enough that there was a real pleasure in watching them come up.

"I mean, look at this. They're all usable options. Wanting to just take it and equip it is normal, right?"

A lot of little pieces gathering into one big difference. You had to admit it was well designed. Nine percent boss-attack damage against thirteen percent status-ailment damage. The status-ailment number was so high that this particular gap looked brutal, but set a normal option like attack power next to boss-attack damage and they really did look about the same.

Stack them, though, and a difference of nearly thirty percent was a serious disparity.

So I rolled. Then I rolled again.

"Rolling again today..."

Until three lines of status ailment came up.

"Ah!"

Every option under the sun had come up. Of the ones that were practically begging to be used, this was the best hit yet. Honestly, I was tempted to just take it. I couldn't bring myself to give up that 4 percent, though, so in the end I rolled again.

"Is there a big difference between flat attack power and attack power percent?"

The one small mercy was that some options simply never appeared, depending on the class you were rolling.

"I have defense-skill options too."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes. Healers get healer-exclusive options on their badges. Tanks too. In exchange, special options like status-ailment damage drop out of the pool, from what I know."

"That's wild."

Fair enough. If all you ever fed healers was damage-dealer options, what fun would there be in rolling badges? They'd just pick up any level 1 badge lying around and wear it. There were even old stories about some game whose supports felt so little growth that, the higher the level cap climbed, the worse the support shortage became.

"When is this one even going to drop."

"When will it drop..."

"Wow... so a level 4 badge is a hundred million just to make, plus two hundred million in options, that's three hundred million, and times three is nine hundred million?"

"Becoming a ranker isn't easy, huh."

Honestly, I'd tilted my head before at what passed for a mass-produced four-star endgame spec. There had to be plenty of people with money, so why was everyone stuck like this? The further I grew, the more I felt it. Even if you decided to build around four stars, Haven was never an easy game.

"Sarang, back when you were a mage ranker, did you spend about that much on badges?"

"I was on level 4 back then too. I carried a boss set — three badges with triple boss-damage options — and a normal-dungeon set of three badges with triple flat attack."

"Ooh."

Right. No need to ask the viewers at all. Sitting right beside me was a ranker who had played Haven for two years. Someone whose face I actually knew had to be more trustworthy than a crowd of strangers.

"So flat attack is better than percent, I take it?"

"It's not a huge difference. Classes that get a lot of buffs raising flat attack are usually said to get a little more out of attack percent, and if you don't have those, plenty of people figure flat attack is a bit better."

"Aha."

"Most of the time penetration isn't bad for efficiency either, so a lot of people just build with whatever comes up. I tried pretty hard myself back then, so I spent a decent amount wanting the options lined up nice and pretty. Hehe."

"Figures. You actually know your stuff."

When you had three options sitting in a row, lining them up as the same option was obviously much prettier. Efficiency mattered, but so did style. That was every bit as important to playing a game.

"Want to make a bet?"

"A bet?"

"Yeah. Winner gets a wish."

"Pfft. Again? The viewers teased you half to death last time over that five-hundred-fifty-million-won wish."

Sitting still and doing nothing but rolling options, I needed something to do. A bet I'd made with Lim Sarang not long ago came back to me.

"If I win, one wish. If you win, I'll roll you a level 5 badge."

"Gasp. Isn't that way too expensive?"

"Oh, come on. I've still got a mountain of level 1 badges from everything I've already pulled up."

"The wish is a secret."

I said it with a shy little smile, and Lim Sarang shot me a glare, wrapping both arms around herself.

"With this many people watching... you pervert!"

"...Excuse me?"

"Sorry. I was joking."

"I just felt my life get threatened by the viewers."

"But a level 5 badge really does seem too expensive."

A three-star SS special option was something Lim Sarang's own ability could pull, one way or another. A level 5 badge was different. Its expected cost stretched out past anything you could pin down, and that seemed to weigh on her. Even I, however much money I had, didn't want to go around showering it on other people. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this was Lim Sarang. I just wanted to, somehow. And it wasn't a bet I was putting up like a prize horse simply because I felt like giving her something.

"Mindset is, I just have to win."

The viewers seemed to be cheering, too. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Lim Sarang hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"All right. You were the one who suggested it, Siwoo. I'll win, and I'll be the first person in Haven's history to put on a level 5 badge."

A bet like this was completely pointless, but the moment you were in it, a quiet tension set in anyway.

A thirty-billion-won pot, riding on a single bet. I prayed. Please.

"Just this once. Let me have one meal with a celebrity."

A lonely war against nearly four hundred thousand viewers had begun.

Click. Click. Click.

I glanced sideways. Lim Sarang was hammering the button with a deadly serious face, pure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠passion in every click.

It was a fierce match, and neither of us was giving an inch.