King of 5 Quadrillion
I really wanted to become a king with 5 quadrillion in assets. The upper class was no longer my goal. What lay above them was king.
If I truly reached that level, Senior Choi Yujin's father would have his head smashed into the ground, crawling on all fours like a dog. Chairman Jang Ilhak, Euna-sunbae's father, would stand hunched over beside me holding an ashtray, servilely grinning as he attended to me.
That was the power of becoming a king. It meant gaining the strength to make Korea's chaebols grovel.
And that power lay within this perilous forest.
Success would grant me absolute royal authority to do anything I desired. Of course, failure meant death and losing everything.
That's why, to avoid failure, I had no choice but to train like hell even when I didn't want to.
"Huff... huff... whoo..."
Han Yaseong swung his wild sword countless times, caught his breath, and let out a long sigh.
Why the hell was he doing this? He could just be content with what he had now...
"Push too hard with greed, and you'll lose it all..."
He wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel, grimacing.
It felt like he was in a casino right now. He'd won a decent amount and should head home, but instead, he was clinging on for more. People like that always ended up losing everything. Luck doesn't hold out forever.
There was a saying in casinos: If you've won, don't look back—go home. Try for more, and you'll lose it all.
But that's exactly what he was doing. He'd gained so much already; he should stop. Yet here he was, training for even greater rewards.
He could die venturing into the truly dangerous zones beyond the forest. Not just the 5 quadrillion—he'd lose the roughly 100 billion he'd already amassed.
The gems back at his base weighed about 2 kilos; even sold cheap, they'd fetch around 100 billion. That alone would let him live lavishly in Korea. Hell, he could go anywhere abroad, play the rich playboy, and keep a harem of beautiful girlfriends.
Yet here he was, sweating through grueling training for even more.
A strange sense of emptiness washed over Han Yaseong.
"Once greed takes root, there's no end to it, huh?"
Yadoongi lay sprawled out beside him, fast asleep. The beast wasn't training anymore. Looked like he'd gotten truly lazy.
Han Yaseong set his sword down and sat by the campfire.
"I should be satisfied with where I am now... but I've grown greedy. I want more. That's what possessing something does, I guess—makes you crave even more. That's why the haves keep scrambling for everything. In my old world, the rich squeeze the poor even harder to get more. They've got so much already, but they still chase after piles more. And now I'm doing the same. I've got a ton, but I want even more. Human greed really has no limits."
Han Yaseong muttered to Yadoongi like he was talking to himself. Seeing his own state reminded him of those greedy tycoons back home. They had vastly more than ordinary folks, yet they endlessly pursued even greater fortunes—squeezing the poor, wringing out struggling workers for every last drop.
He'd never understood it before, but now he did. You couldn't stop. That greed. That avarice. That ambition. You couldn't control the burning desire for more.
He was consumed by it, just like them. He'd received so much in this world, yet here he was forcing himself to train for even greater gains.
It felt like divine retribution was coming. Like he'd head out to scout beyond the forest and actually die.
He couldn't fathom why he was pushing his greed this far. It was the sweet temptation of absolute royal authority. Every man dreamed of it—standing at the pyramid's peak, watching the world grovel at his feet.
That realization made him understand politicians, presidential candidates, high-ranking officials. They all craved the summit. To become the group's leader and issue commands. That's why they endured the public's scorn and hatred without quitting.
Maybe they even mocked the masses inwardly. How dare these pathetic worms... The people were already beneath them, under their rule. That was cold, hard truth.
Just as a mere 100,000 yangban ruled over ten million Joseon commoners back in the day, Korea's scant upper crust of 100,000 dominated its 50 million citizens.
Even if those elites vanished, the world wouldn't improve. Others would simply take their places and rule the masses. Nothing would change.
He had to change himself. Don't wish for good people in politics—step into the arena yourself.
The end of Goryeo and birth of Joseon didn't usher in utopia. Ending Korea and founding a new nation wouldn't create paradise either. Only the faces changed; the world cycled endlessly. Rich and poor, victors and losers—human history was just that repetition.
Still, Han Yaseong wanted to be a victor over a loser, rich over poor. He wanted to lord over the world without restraint. He refused to live as the bullied wretch any longer.
Even the upper class no longer satisfied him. He wanted to be a king—absolute ruler who made even them tremble at his feet.
Like Genghis Khan of old Mongolia, Jumong of Goguryeo, King Dae Joyeong of Balhae, Zhu Yuanzhang of Ming China—or even Hitler of Germany or Stalin of the old USSR. A nation's unchallenged sovereign.
The upper class wasn't enough anymore. He wanted power that made them quake.
He wanted their gold-spoon daughters—born into luxury—lined up naked, sucking his cock. To ravage their precious pussies at will.
Seniors Choi Yujin and Euna too. Naked side by side, spreading their own cunts wide. On all fours together, shaking their asses for him.
As king, he could. Ancient kings claimed the world's finest women without restraint. Noble upper-class ladies reduced to mere fucktoys. Women ordinary men couldn't even glance at, stripped bare anytime, their pussies dyed with his cum.
And if he tired of them? Discard them like trash.
In modern terms, it meant fucking and dumping K-pop idols and top actresses whenever he pleased. Goddesses to average guys, but to absolute power? Just women. Just holes.
That's the ruler Han Yaseong yearned to be.
If Kublai Khan dreamed of world conquest by his campfire in Dadu, Han Yaseong nurtured dreams of kingship by his in this world.
"Yeah. Even if it kills me, I'll go for it."
He clenched his fist tight.
He couldn't stop exploring here. Halt now, and this was it—no king, not even proper upper class. He'd bow to rulers till death, living eternally under their thumb.
It wounded his pride. Born a man, he should rule—not be ruled.
Average folks, clueless, whined about no more politicians. Laughable. Like saying don't become rich. They didn't grasp politicians' immense power, their lavish perks. Politicians hid it well—exaggerate the abuse and hassle to deter the riffraff.
Joseon kings were the same. "Overworked to early death," "tormented by ministers, achieved nothing." Bullshit. To a peasant, one day as king—before dying—was bliss. Nation's top dog. Owning everything. Everyone's head smashed underfoot.
But peasants died without basic human dignity. Never tasting a woman the king fucked at whim. Stuck with the ugly rejects no one wanted.
Pretty peasant girls? Snatched as concubines or gisaeng by yangban. Commoner men couldn't even have the attractive ones among their own—left sucking their thumbs in regret as they were taken.
All the best stolen; only scraps remained.
Yet kings whined about short lives and exhaustion? Politicians about abuse and fatigue? Just sob stories to keep others out.
Fools bought it and stayed away—kicking away their shot at ruling the masses from on high.
Thus, the greedy flooded politics, becoming rulers in a vicious cycle. They thrived on power's sweetness, scorn be damned.