Chapter 43
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Pre-Preparation (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The hypnosis I cast on the director wasn't anything special.
[Your chastity wall transforms into NTR. Watching videos of your wife in another man's arms is several times better than doing it yourself, and seeing her give birth to another man's child brings utter happiness. And you become utterly unable to resist the man who steals your wife away.]
In simple terms, it turned him into a masochist who loves NTR.
It was like the ending of some trashy NTR doujin with a vanilla conclusion gone wrong, but the effect was spot on.
I mean, I got the contract that easily.
'Who would've thought he'd accept it without even a hint of resistance.'
Honestly, I figured he'd put up at least a little fight.
The day after I thoroughly railed the director's wife and sealed that unfair contract with him...
I'd arrived at a luxury villa.
"Miharu-san, is this the place?"
"Ah, yes. This is where Yung lives."
"Nice spot."
"Yeah. She must make a pretty good living..."
At Miharu-san's words, I pulled a candy from my pocket, popped it in my mouth, and sucked on it.
Staring at the massive mansion, I mulled over the personal info Miharu-san had shared about Yung.
'Name's Takahashi Rua, Japanese... well, technically second-generation Zainichi Korean.'
Nickname's Yung—her Korean name is Yoon Sun-hwa, but she thinks Yung is cuter than Yuna.
Anyway, both parents are around, but they don't get along.
Dropped out of high school, probably due to bullying.
Passed the high school graduation equivalency exam—what they call the "High School Graduation Level Recognition Test"—so she got her diploma recognized.
For reference, that's an exam you can only take as an adult, obviously.
And... she's a hikikomori with social anxiety who loves anime, and for some reason, she has weird philosophies about women's panties. Apparently, that makes her a bit of a pervert.
'Hmm. Sounds like someone I could have a deep discussion with?'
Last but not least, she's a freelancer, programmer, and a stock investor with a solid batting average.
This came straight from Yung herself via Miharu-san, asking to pass it along.
'She figured out what I'm here for.'
I'd only vaguely mentioned needing a certain kind of program, so if she pieced it together, that's impressive.
Having double-checked everything about Yung, I spoke up.
"Miharu-san, let's head in."
"Ah, sure."
A few minutes later, Miharu-san and I stood in front of Yung's place.
As soon as we arrived, Miharu-san rang the doorbell like it was second nature.
Ding-dong.
The chime echoed, and after a moment...
Creeeak...
The door swung open.
"C-Come... in..."
A girl popped out.
She was rocking a massive black hoodie—impossible to tell if she had pants on or not. Classic no-pants look.
'This is Yung?'
She looked like an elementary or middle schooler at first glance. No, her build was downright scrawny.
The baggy clothes made her seem a bit bigger; otherwise, she'd pass for a total elementary kid.
And on top of that...
'Doesn't seem to take care of herself.'
Her face was clean enough—she'd at least washed it—but her hair was a tangled mess, and her eyebrows and nails were neglected too.
But oddly, this look made her more trustworthy(?).
In this line of work, skill often shows through how much—or little—you bother to doll up (or not).
So, I felt way more confident than when I'd first heard about her.
-Flinch.
As I stared at Yung lost in thought, she shuddered slightly and asked me,
"Um... aren't you... coming in...?"
"Ah, yeah. Coming right now."
Anyway, stepping into Yung's house, my first impression was...
'Whoa, it's spotless.'
The place was impeccably clean.
No, beyond clean.
'At this level, she's got serious talent not just for programming and stocks, but interior design too?'
Even in 2009, it felt like a sleek house from the future.
Nostalgic pangs hit me, and I muttered without thinking,
"Wow. This could pass for a five-star hotel."
Yung froze for a second, then turned back to look at me. No, not me.
'Huh? Is she looking at Miharu-san?'
It was Miharu-san she was eyeing.
As I puzzled over it, Miharu-san spoke up shyly in a soft voice.
"Um, actually... I decorated this place..."
I couldn't believe my ears for a moment.
Wait, she's not even the owner—why Miharu-san?!
Turns out, Miharu-san started out just doing cleaning, laundry, and meals. But after getting close to Yung, she hated how barren the place looked and suggested sprucing it up. Yung asked her to handle it instead.
It was quirky, but I got it.
From what Miharu-san said, Yung didn't seem interested in home decor.
"Miharu-san, if you'd stuck with this gig, you'd be killing it."
"Ah, no, it's not that big a deal..."
"Nah, I'm serious. Not many people can pull this off."
Blushing at my praise, Miharu-san looked adorable, so I kept going.
"Ugh... real-life normie, drop dead..."
Watching us, Yung muttered under her breath.
First time hearing someone say that IRL—total otaku vibes.
She'd been stuttering up till now, but this came out clear as day. That was the kicker.
'I've watched some anime myself, but looks like I need more training.'
Anyway, after lavishing Miharu-san with praise, we headed inside, sat at the dining table, and I showed her the contract details.
Oh, and tea was served—Miharu-san brewed it.
Despite her looks, Yung pored over the contract meticulously.
After reviewing it, she set it down, pondered for a bit, and said,
"It's... a really good... contract..."
This was because I'd told Miyuki to be generous with the terms.
When snagging talent, I spare no expense, no tricks. Straight out of the playbook of the most successful guy from my past life.
Though that dude overdid it and got screwed by everyone around him.
Being around types like that rubbed off—I don't skimp on paying for talent either.
Even if I hadn't gathered any till now.
"It's... so tempting... I really wanna do it... but... one last... question?"
As my mind wandered, Yung spoke up.
I told her sure, ask away.
Without beating around the bush, she fired straight.
"Do you... really think... that Bitcoin thing... will succeed?"
Her words confirmed Yung was the real deal.
I hadn't breathed a word about Bitcoin since arriving, yet she nailed it.
Impressive.
I asked out of curiosity, even though I knew the answer.
"What makes you think Bitcoin?"
"I was thinking... what job matches... the contract terms and you... and I remembered... Bitcoin from some econ news I saw before."
Someone already knew about Bitcoin?
My head went ice-cold at her words.
'The exchange rate isn't even set yet, so I let my guard down. Too careless.'
I don't assume the past is all in my palm just 'cause I regressed.
Sure, my era or country, maybe. But waking up in a different nation and timeline? I'm not that arrogant or dumb.
Still, I slacked off. Got cocky, skimped on intel. Assumed the future was set in stone.
'Gotta pick up the pace.'
And tighten up my info gathering.
Realizing my mistake, I closed my eyes briefly to reflect.
Then answered her question.
"Yes. Bitcoin will succeed. No doubt about it."
"Why... so certain...?"
Yung eyed my conviction, asking how I could be so sure about a coin's success.
Reasons aplenty.
Bottom-feeders who can't hold fiat will flock to it. Perfect for shady deals. Or scammers will band together. Whatever.
But really, just one answer.
"This coin is a monster that endlessly devours human desire."
Yung tilted her head, not getting it.
I explained.
"This coin is an illusion. No one, no institution backs it. Pure fantasy."
Virtual currency, after all—coins are imaginary money.
No guarantees if someone rugs you. That's crypto.
Yet why do so many pile in?
Simple.
"What props up the coin isn't institutions or governments. It's human desire."
Human greed for success—no, for money itself—drags people into the pit.
Unless humanity sheds all desire, this truth won't change. That's what I think.