Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Owner of a Workshop in a Ruined World (24)
The first thing I noticed was a set of inaccessible menus.
[Silver Members Only: Access Denied]
[Gold Members Only: Access Denied]
–Boss, looks like this guy Thunder was seriously low-level. Everything’s locked.
Picker was right.
The message displayed at the top was blunt.
[To raise your rank, accumulate transaction records and credit ratings.]
So to see better items, I had to first sell good items myself and earn recognition.
“Even if you have money, without credit it doesn’t matter.”
Clicking my tongue, I tapped the [Food / Daily Necessities] tab that was open to Bronze rank users.
Basic commodities would reveal the level of this Black Market.
But as soon as the tab opened, my brow furrowed.
[Canned Pacific Saury – Expiration Date Removed]
–The can is slightly swollen. A gamble.
–30 UP
[Dried Meat of Unknown Origin]
–Slightly sour taste but still edible as protein.
–10 UP
[Purification Filter]
–Heavily used (20% durability remaining)
–150 UP
The more I scrolled, the more sighs escaped me.
UP was Union Market Points.
One rifle round equaled 1 UP.
“So that rotten canned fish costs thirty bullets?”
Picker, watching the screen beside me, cried out in disgust.
–Boss! Look at that can! It’s swollen like that and they call it a gamble?
“I’d call that a biological weapon.”
–Eat that and you’re buying a one-way ticket on the typhoid express!
“Exactly. And that sour meat? That’s just a fancy way of saying it’s about to rot.”
Yet despite my sarcastic laugh, the harsh reality stabbed deep into my bones.
People out there were risking their lives to buy garbage like this—paying thirty bullets for it.
The Knife-Beak Chicken meat I ate for dinner yesterday.
Clean rainwater filtered through my purifier.
Compared to the outside world, life inside this workshop was practically a royal banquet.
“I’ve been living too well.”
–Boss, you should feel guilty when throwing away chicken bones.
Even though I could eat Knife-Beak Chicken freely now, hunting one meant traveling all the way to Hyochang Park.
Even around Mapo Shelter, the area was crawling with Contaminated Wild Dogs.
If their meat wasn’t thoroughly cooked, eating it would make you sick.
Their flesh was soaked with toxins.
–Still… why would anyone eat spoiled canned food?
“Well… I can understand it.”
Even the supposedly delicious Knife-Beak Chicken was starting to feel repetitive.
People older than me remembered the world before the collapse.
They missed the rich, stimulating flavors of the old days.
And in this world, not just ingredients but even simple seasonings were hard to obtain.
“Maybe I should produce MSG and sell it.”
–That would definitely sell, Boss! But MSG requires complex chemical processing or organic materials like sugarcane, so it’s difficult right now. Instead, I recommend salt.
“Really? I already make salt for personal use.”
–Salt is an essential electrolyte for hunters who sweat and fight. Because of contaminated rivers and groundwater, obtaining clean salt is extremely difficult.
“Oh… I see. That’s why salt is so expensive even in the daily necessities tab.”
I had been in elementary school when the world collapsed.
My common knowledge was lacking.
That was why Kim Cheolmin constantly mocked me as an idiot.
Talking with Picker like this filled in those gaps.
Leaving the tragic food section behind, I moved to the next tab.
The category sparked curiosity—and unease.
[Labor]
The moment I opened it, three subcategories appeared.
[Slaves / Mercenaries / Organs]
[Woman in her 20s (Grade A)]
–Healthy, decent appearance, capable of domestic labor
–Auction (Starting price: 5,000 UP)
As expected, the price of women was astronomical.
Pleasure, labor, and even reproduction.
A resource with endless value.
Below that were skilled workers.
[Repair Technician, 30s (E-Grade)]
–Slight hand tremor due to alcoholism
–Capable of basic firearm and electronics repair
–2,500 UP
A repairman with shaking hands cost 2,500 UP.
It showed just how valuable technical skills had become.
But what truly made my expression harden was the category below.
[Ordinary Men]
[Mutant-Luring Bait 4+1]
–200 UP (50 UP per person)
–Condition good. Eats a lot.
Recommended for those who want to use and discard quickly.
No refunds.
[Landmine Detection (Both Legs Intact) – Bundle of 3]
–100 UP
One human life.
50 UP.
Not even worth two cans of rotten fish.
In this world, two rifle magazines could buy a human life.
And the phrase “eats a lot” pierced like a dagger.
“…Now I finally understand why the shelter kicked us out.”
The words I heard during my exile echoed in my head.
Parasite.
Useless.
Excess resource.
The shelter administrators’ calculations had been cold and precise.
Keeping non-Awakened Carriers who consumed food was inefficient.
Throwing them out was profitable.
And if needed, they could simply buy replacements here for 50 UP.
“So my old price was two cans of fish.”
–B-Boss… don’t be depressed! Right now you’re a diamond that’s worth more than a hundred people in that category combined!
Picker tried to comfort me awkwardly.
“Yeah. I’m not the same person anymore.”
Finally, I opened the [Miscellaneous / Weapons] tab.
[5.56mm Rifle Ammunition]
The backbone currency of Union Market.
And the lifeline protecting humans from mutants.
–Boss, there are a lot of items in the rifle ammunition category.
“Yeah.”
[Recycled Ammunition]
–Brass reused 3 times
–Occasional jams, but still fires
–No refunds
–0.8 UP each
[Unused Ammunition Found in Warehouse]
–Slight rust on the bullet tip due to storage issues
–85% firing rate guaranteed
–1.2 UP
Even those were considered acceptable.
But the deeper I scrolled, the worse it became.
[Handmade Lead Rounds]
–Gunpowder measurement slightly off; barrel explosion possible
–Non-Awakened purchase prohibited
–0.9 UP
–Boss… people actually buy these? An 85% firing rate means one in five rounds won’t fire. If that happens in combat…
Picker shuddered.
“You die. That’s what happens.”
I glanced at the corner shelf of the workshop.
Six K2 rifles captured from Hammer’s subordinates lay there.
“No wonder they carried two rifles each.”
–Backup for jams. I wondered why they needed two.
Beside the rifles were ammunition boxes produced experimentally by the Automated Production Equipment.
Cartridges with a subtle shine.
Perfect bullet heads with less than 0.01mm error margin.
Compared to the garbage bullets on the Black Market, the technological gap was obvious.
“Let’s do some calculations.”
A calculation window appeared in the air.
One F-Grade Core had a market value of about 1,200 UP.
Converted into workshop power, that meant 25% energy.
Each 1% could produce 1,000 rounds of 5.56mm ammunition.
So one F-Grade Core produced—
“25,000 rounds.”
If I sold them at 1 UP each, the same price as recycled ammunition—
That was 25,000 UP revenue.
Subtract the core cost of 1,200 UP.
Net profit?
23,800 UP.
Almost 20× profit margin.
And if the premium of “brand new ammunition”—something nonexistent in the Black Market—was added…
My pupils shook.
This wasn’t business.
It was alchemy.
No—more like printing money or counterfeiting currency.
Should I just… sell all the ammunition?
My finger hovered over the [Register Sale] button.
The endless string of zeros flickered before my eyes.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“My head will roll before I ever spend that money.”
–What do you mean, Boss?
“Imagine how people who’ve used rotten recycled ammunition for decades would react if they suddenly saw brand-new bullets fresh from a factory.”
–Hmm… wouldn’t they go crazy? Like, ‘Shut up and take my money!’?
“Exactly. The market would explode. But that’s the problem.”
Even before the collapse, luxury goods sold instantly.
My voice lowered.
“Who’s the seller? Thunder. A nobody F-Grade lightning Awakened. A small-time raider. And that guy suddenly floods the market with tens of thousands of high-quality bullets?”
The real predators of this world.
Shelter leadership.
Major warlords.
It would be suicide.
“Would they say, ‘Wow, Thunder’s amazing’ and move on?”
–No… they’d say, ‘That bastard Thunder found a secret military supply depot.’
“Exactly. Sell one box of ammo, and they’ll assume there’s more.”
They would follow the scent.
Pretend to be buyers.
Track me down.
“In this market, a product that’s too perfect is a poisoned chalice.”
Drink it, and the pleasure is intoxicating.
Then comes death.
Picker’s wings drooped as realization dawned.
–Ah… I see now. It would attract too much attention.
I closed the calculation window and sale page.
“Until I can establish a much larger and more powerful fake identity—or a proxy—we wait.”
–Understood. It’s better to first experience Union Market’s trading system.
The regret lingered, but my life was worth more.
Instead, my eyes turned toward the real junk left after [Disassembly] in the corner.
“For now, we sell something suitable for Thunder’s level—but slightly more appealing.”
–Correct, Boss. Rank progression comes first.
“Right. At Bronze rank, there’s nothing worth seeing except daily goods. Check Thunder’s transaction history.”
–He sold cores and mutant byproducts, then bought ammunition and supplies.
“Exactly. Let’s make something sellable based on that.”
Selling items appropriate to the market.
That was the first rule of Black Market debut.
So what should I sell?
I examined Thunder’s transaction records carefully.
“…Good.”
Abandoning the ammunition plan, I walked to a corner of the storage area.
A box filled with scavenged junk.
Among them were a broken-lens PVS-7 night-vision goggle and a rusted machete with a rotting handle.
What if I repaired these?
I simulated the result.
Using [Repair] would remove rust and damage instantly.
They would emerge like brand-new factory products.
No. Too obvious.
If a Bronze-rank raider suddenly sold multiple brand-new military devices?
It would attract suspicion just like the ammunition.
What I needed was something worn but usable.
Not repair.
Creation.
No—imitation.
I placed the machete on the workbench.
The design of the Standard-Issue Jungle Machete used by shelter blacksmiths already existed in my mind.
But the goal was different.
It needed to look used.
Thunder was a lightning-type Awakened, not a blacksmith.
The concept:
Loot taken from someone else.
An item originally made by a production-type Awakened.
But it still needed to be good enough to sell.
E-Grade to E+ Grade production item with signs of use.
“Let’s begin.”
Using [Manufacture], but instead of letting the system shape it perfectly, I intentionally interfered with each stage.
Hiss—
Where the blade surface should have been smooth, I deliberately left rough casting marks.
Instead of leather or high-quality plastic, the handle was wrapped crudely in synthetic resin.
While painting it olive drab, I skipped the polishing stage.
Instead, I scraped the surface with a wire brush to create a worn weathering effect.
Picker, watching from the side, couldn’t stay silent.
–Boss, what are you doing?
–You’re using nanometer-level precision equipment to imitate scrap metal! What kind of manufacturing method deliberately rusts a perfectly good blade?
“Quiet. It’s camouflage.”
–Camouflage?
Ignoring him, I finished the blade edge roughly as if ground by an unskilled blacksmith.
But I didn’t neglect the most important point.
Balance.
While ruining the appearance, I perfectly aligned the weight distribution between blade and handle.
Picker seemed speechless watching it.
Finally, the work was done.
A rough, heavily used machete lay on the workbench.
[Manufacturing Complete]
[Worn Military Machete]
[Grade: E+]
A machete with excellent balance.
The craftsman’s delicate touch is impressive.
Success.
Exactly what I intended.
Anyone who bought it casually would be shocked the moment they used it.
Why does this thing cut so well?
–Boss, I still don’t understand. If it performs this well, you could just make it look nice and sell it for more.
I swung the machete lightly through the air.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
The sound slicing through the air was sharp.
The grip fit perfectly in my hand.
“With this, it won’t attract suspicion—but it’ll get amazing reviews. Perfect bait for building regular customers.”
A shop people trust.
If Thunder’s store could build that reputation in the Black Market, the first step of my plan would succeed.
“Picker. Set up the lighting. We need it to look as old as possible.”
–Understood, Boss. Honeybees! Time to work!
At Picker’s command, the [Honeybee] drones resting on the shelf lifted into the air.
“Hmm. Maybe we should set up a tent too. Can’t let anyone know it’s a workshop.”
–Excellent decision, Boss!
The Honeybees buzzed as they began working.
Bzzz—bzzz—