Business Point

Having topped off my dopamine with the V-topia auditions, it was time to get back to business.

As for the ventures our crew was currently running in Rena World, they broke down like this.

First: the mining operation that Mayo and I were grinding through during our regular stream hours.

It might look tedious, but it was pure gold. The gear was already set up, so there was no seed capital to sink, and every diamond we pulled could be liquidated on the spot—a massive boost to our cash flow.

The downside was that viewers could bail ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the endless mining loop, but that ultimately came down to a streamer's personal skill. There were plenty of ways to handle it.

Recruit people to mine alongside you and spin entertaining stories over Discord to keep the audience from getting bored. Radio-style content has demand everywhere, so it was a solid countermeasure.

Or you could just take Candy donations and play videos the way Rabbit TV did with video donations. Streamers who mined in the pre-regression past used that method all the time—it was proven. There was a reason Rabbit TV's video donations got called a scam in the best possible way. Nail the reactions and you could pull in solid donations while holding onto your viewers.

Second: the construction business Miho and Lucy had teamed up on.

For a while, alongside mining, it had been one of V-Live Company's main revenue streams. The margins were so absurd it briefly claimed the top spot among our ventures. Land a single contract and the money coming in was on a completely different scale.

But it turned into a sunset industry almost overnight. Once heavyweight streamers led by Mist started moving in, the small-time marks who'd been our bread and butter finally figured out how important cash was. When holding liquid money was king, nobody was going to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠splurge on construction commissions.

So our construction track record to date consisted of exactly four contracts from the early days. Those alone had netted us a total of 17.25 million Rena—but I was still hungry.

Just like Guus Hiddink.

And right on cue, a sweet business opportunity had come knocking.

People who make real money tend to have a vision that runs ahead of the times. I wasn't about to call myself a genius, but a good idea had definitely landed in my lap.

The spark had come from Rena-ttang's announcement the day before—the warning that she would inspect every resident's My House and boot anyone who came up short.

The community was a mess of clashing reactions. Some called it pure theater: a show of force meant to put residents on edge and jack up the server's concurrent numbers at the same time. Others pushed back hard.

With public sentiment for Rena World soaring, the server dogs who'd flooded in tore into the original poster without mercy.

If the audience was this confused, how were the streamers themselves holding up?

The partner streamers, Mist at the head of them, were completely unbothered. Get expelled for not having a My House? After they'd been given Taesan-class VIP treatment and practically enshrined on the server? If that actually happened, Rena-ttang would be spitting in her own face. Still, for appearances' sake they had to go through the motions—slap up a building or just dump the whole job on the hangers-on trailing after them.

Among the small-time streamers, opinion split roughly down the middle, same as the viewers.

One camp didn't seriously believe anyone would get kicked and took it easy. A lot of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the returnees from the Poko Server fell into this group. Burned out from the war's aftermath, they were chasing nothing but healing content. Fair enough—if I'd pulled two all-nighters at the end of a national war myself, the last thing I'd want to think about was construction.

The other camp was fretting themselves sick over actually getting booted from the server. People with half-baked building skills scrambling to throw something together before it was too late.

And there it was. I'd found my business point.

The marks who'd vanished without a trace at some point.

Ah-ha. So that's where you'd all been hiding.

I urgently called the crew together and laid it out. Time to score another big score.

The day before, a server bulletin board had gone up in front of the Pokémon Center. Onto it, a massive screenshot file was uploaded.

It was a masterpiece of copywriting.

Multi-level product sales via a referral system! And by stressing that schedules could slip if commissions stacked up, it lit a fire under every consumer's sense of urgency. Rena-ttang's My House inspection wasn't exactly far off, after all.

Sure enough, not long after the notice went up, people started flooding into the V-Live Company building. Mostly complete beginners who'd never built a thing in their lives. They stared at me with the terrified eyes of fawns being chased by hunters.

"Oh my, you mar— ahem, valued customers, right this way. You've come to exactly the right place. Opportunities like this don't come around often, you know."

The method for handling them was the same as always. Escort them down the ladder into the discreet underground consultation room. And of course, every consultation was one-on-one. That was the only way to properly fleece the mar— the customers.

"Oh dear, I see, I see. Minecraft's your first time, so building's been really hard, hasn't it? Good, good. So how far have you looked into things before coming here?"

"Huh? Uh, I've got my entire fortune—1.53 million Rena."

"I'm sorry—1.53 million Rena?"

I raised my voice like I'd just heard the most absurd thing in the world. The other party recoiled, terror written all over their face.

"W-why are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you suddenly pulling out a diamond swor—"

"Ah! My bad. Got a little carried away there without realizing. Sometimes a second personality just pops out when I'm not looking. But customer, you need to understand something. These days, how are you supposed to get a house with that kind of money? Hm? With that, you couldn't even rent a ten-pyeong studio in the commercial district around the Pokémon Center."

They just blinked at me with a vacant expression.

Good grief. To think someone this clueless about how the world worked still existed. Nothing for it, then. People like this needed me to walk them through everything from A to Z so they wouldn't get scammed by anyone else.

"Looks like you'll need to take out a loan. What's your occupation?"

"I just mine and fish on my own to make money."

"Hmm! Loan standards for small-scale self-employed folks are a bit strict, but… it can't be helped. I'll do everything I can to work this out for you."

"Th-thank you."

Before they knew it, my sales pitch had swept them up and molded them into the perfect subordinate party. I closed a 3-million-Rena loan in one smooth motion and slammed the seal down on the contract.

Ah—and there was one last line, of course.

"Our valued customer, do you happen to have any friends on the server?"

"…There's two people I hang out with sometimes."

"Wonderful. Have those friends secured My Houses yet, by any chance?"

They shook their head side to side, and an unhideable smile hooked itself onto the corner of my mouth. I kindly saw the mark off and added one more thing as they left.

"You saw the notice, so you know, right? The referral system. If any of those friends sign a construction contract with us and put your name down as the referrer, you get ten percent of the cost back."

"Wait—for real?"

"Absolutely for real. Go tell your friends. The Server Admin is inspecting houses, and who knows? If someone's place is a total mess, there might actually be streamers who get expelled."

"Got it. I'll go tell them right away."

Watching the mark's back as they scrambled off at a full sprint, I couldn't hide the satisfied smile on my face.

The pyramid multi-level scheme had begun.