Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The World's Luckiest Man
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Park Moon-pil, seventy years old and living in Daejeon, had been born with tremendous luck.
In a family lineage plagued by frail constitutions, he was born robust and strong. The impoverished rural village he hailed from underwent a redevelopment boom the very moment he entered the world.
"Whoa! We're finally gonna live in an apartment!"
Surrounded by his family, now flush with cash, he moved to the city.
As a student, he overheard talk of stocks by chance, studied them diligently, and began investing upon reaching adulthood. It wasn't long before he amassed a fortune.
"Everyone thinks I'm just lucky."
And now, he was a titan of Daejeon, owning multiple buildings, apartments, and even a department store—a true local magnate.
"But they're all talking nonsense. I'm not lucky at all."
The elderly Park Moon-pil grinned into the mirror.
"Isn't that right, Spirit?"
Behind him stood a withered jujube tree, its form invisible in the reflection.
Among those who know you, 97.34% think the same.
"It's not luck—it's because of you, Spirit."
That statement is true.
He had met the spirit right after graduating high school, while working a part-time gig at a construction site.
[Damn it! What's this!? A relic!?]
[We're in Daejeon, not Gyeongju! Hey! Smash 'em all and toss 'em! If this gets out, the whole project's budget goes poof!]
[Why does this damn country always dump the costs on us workers whenever relics pop up?]
[Halting construction by force and still demanding we pay—what the hell?]
Amid the dirt piles of the site lay several buried jars.
He'd been ordered to smash them, but he pocketed the prettiest one, radiating a mysterious aura, and took it back to his boarding room.
[Thank you for saving me.]
[Aaah! A ghost!]
And so he met the Jujube Tree Spirit.
"I was scared out of my mind back then. Why were you sealed there?"
Shamans locked me away, calling me an evil spirit. But I am no evil spirit. There is no good or evil for me. Trees know no such distinctions. Only humans and a few other beings bother with good and evil.
"A few other beings, huh."
The Jujube Tree Spirit knew many things.
"Living with you, I've met plenty of those beings."
Stocks that would rise in days.
Stocks that would skyrocket in years.
Lottery numbers that would hit.
Real estate poised for massive gains.
With the Jujube Tree Spirit, life was effortless. He became rich in a flash and lived doing whatever he pleased.
"I learned ghosts exist because of you, but there are things even worse than ghosts."
To me, you're the strangest. Using me just to make money?
"Heh heh, you think I'd stop at money? I might croak soon anyway, so let's do that one last thing."
Understood.
Gripping his cane, he left the room and patted his pocket.
The hard, cold feel of metal.
Confirming the entity within, he followed the Jujube Tree Spirit's guidance.
Straight ahead, 100 meters. At 2:41 a.m., a local woman will pass through that park. Target her for your crime, and you won't get caught.
"Thank you for the tip."
When the time came, the designated person appeared at the spot.
"Excuse me, miss, could you help me out?"
"Pardon? Sure, what's wrong?"
"Well..."
The woman approached the seventy-year-old man without a hint of suspicion.
In that instant, Park Moon-pil swiftly drew something.
"Play along with my hobby."
A garish flash erupted from the toy gun, firing a beam of light.
The woman struck by it shrank into a tiny toy figurine.
"Huh? Wh-what!?"
"Heh heh, stay quiet now."
The living toy figurine clutched in his hand.
Park Moon-pil flashed a kindly smile.
"Or it'll hurt a lot."
He hadn't always had this hobby.
"Life's so boring."
What a spoiled complaint.
With the Jujube Tree Spirit granting him every desire—money, women, filial piety, even his life's path—he fell into ennui.
The spirit provided answers to all problems; he merely acted on them, and success followed.
"Spirit, can you solve absolutely anything?"
Anything within the realm of human action.
"Then..."
Humans challenge gods.
From that moment, Park Moon-pil challenged the Jujube Tree Spirit.
"Even if I commit murder, you can cover it up?"
Yes.
"Alright, let's try it."
From that day, Park Moon-pil committed countless crimes.
Cut off the victim's third pinky finger and toss it from Hannam Bridge. Your bad luck will transfer to someone else, framing them.
Start a company. There's a man named Jo Shin-yong in Asan, Chungnam. Assign him the cooked books—he'll make you rich, and you can pin it all on him later. Stay in the shadows until then.
On the 12th at 9:30 p.m., hide under the zelkova tree. Count from that moment—the fourth woman to pass by. Assault her then, and your crime won't be discovered.
The Jujube Tree Spirit's guidance was flawless.
He was never caught, never even suspected. Instead, he received awards for exemplary taxpayer and model citizen.
"Looks like that's coming to an end too."
Had enough fun?
"Yes. More than enough."
A broken figurine in a box.
Then the old man pulled out a coupon.
Want to go to another world? Tired of soft, happy otherworlds? Craving danger and terror to test your mettle!? Use this now! Prove yourself and claim an incredible reward!
A shady dealer he'd learned of through the Jujube Tree Spirit.
Forty years of dealings with her today.
Recently, he'd bought what might be his last entity from her.
"If I succeed with this, I'll get young again, right?"
Possible.
"Even if I die, I could live another year safely."
With me, success is guaranteed.
"Heh heh, challenge accepted."
Park Moon-pil activated the otherworld coupon.
The old man and the Jujube Tree Spirit vanished from the world.
Exactly twenty-four hours later.
"...Phew."
A young man and the Jujube Tree Spirit reappeared.
"That was long. Finally over."
Success.
"Absolutely exhausting."
He looked just like his younger self.
No—handsomer, fitter.
"Let's see, the date... Yeah, exactly one day later."
You remembered?
"Haha, thanks to the 'Perfect Memory' spell, I never forget anything."
It was Park Moon-pil himself, having trained in aura and magic in that otherworld via the coupon and achieved complete body transformation.
"Back there, I wanted to return, but now that I have... meh, no thrill."
A side effect of 'Perfect Memory'. You recall leaving this place yesterday, so the excitement fades.
The otherworld was brutally hard—death was the norm.
Yet with the spirit's aid, even at seventy, he triumphed.
"My reward was the EX-grade skill 'The World's Luckiest Man'. What's that?"
You are the luckiest man alive. Everything you do will succeed.
"Oh yeah?"
The joy of return was fleeting.
Life grew boring again.
"Even those thirty years in the otherworld were dull. Just follow the spirit's words, and everything works out. Now I'm so lucky I don't even need you?"
Indeed. But don't get complacent. Luck doesn't guarantee survival—the world isn't that easy.
How far can I go?
How far to shatter this boredom?
"...Shall we wipe out humanity? That could be fun. The Foundation will come to stop me. Might make life exciting."
The current Foundation is no match for your power.
"Odds?"
0% in a fair fight, but guerrilla tactics raise it to 32%.
"Nice. Give me their coordinates. Time for a declaration of war."
213,546,0131...
He gathered mana.
Channeling teleportation magic to the given coordinates.
'If I hadn't listened to you, I wouldn't be this bored.'
But the Jujube Tree Spirit, long intertwined with his soul, was unshakable.
"That's why they called you an evil spirit?"
I keep telling you, I have no good or evil. This is merely my way of survival.
"You've become too much a part of me—I can't defy you."
I won't lead you astray. No worries.
"True enough."
Now, what to do at the Foundation?
Blast them with a meteor first, then back to Earth.
Use guerrilla tactics, shields of hostages, expose them to the world while fighting.
'Already having fun.'
Mid-teleport through hyperspace.
Something caught Park Moon-pil's eye.
'The Scales?'
Too fleeting—even his superhuman vision barely registered it.
He, on the cusp of transcendence beyond superhuman, glimpsed the Scales' will—but too late.
"Urk!?"
The coordinates warped.
A hyperspace storm twisted his path to the Foundation elsewhere. No time to react—he plummeted to the new location.
'Where am I?'
He emerged in a corridor of an all-golden building.
'Top floor.'
The view from the hall was sky-high.
Scouting, Park Moon-pil spotted a door.
[Chairman’s Office]
Where the highest value hostage would be.
He slashed the golden door and burst in.
'Ingot.'
On the desk, atop a plush cushion: a single gold ingot.
In that moment, he sensed its will.
'Intruder, Golden... Execution?'
The world receded.
His body distanced itself; everything felt alien.
The Jujube Tree Spirit's voice echoed.
Park Moon-pil mustered his last strength.
"What... is this..."
Something I don't know. Behind truth. It denies recognition to the unpermitted.
His body disintegrated.
Each cell gained a personality, devouring neighbors to dominate the flesh.
The origin of all greed.
The genesis of all progress.
The master of all motion.
The starting point of all futures.
Park Moon-pil was no longer the body's lord—just one cell battling for control.
Doctors desire to heal patients.
Gods desire to create worlds.
Humans desire to live.
Ghosts desire to resent the living.
He fought endlessly.
Dozens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions of cells—he conquered them.
Stars desire to burn.
The universe desires to embrace worlds.
Dimensions desire to exist.
Things beyond dimensions desire desires beyond dimensions.
Exouniverse beings desire to become lowly creatures in our universe.
Trillions of cells vanquished.
It felt like trillions of years.
Objects desire to exist.
Electrons desire to flow from high to low potential.
All things desire to flow from high to low.
He reclaimed the body.
His consciousness splintered across infinite universes and dimensions.
Not replication or division—everything was his true self, sharing all thoughts, time, lives.
Thus, all becomes perfect at the lowest point, the end of desire.
The Jujube Tree Spirit fell silent.
"Ah."
Then, in unison, they cried out.
Both melted into gold lumps, liquifying instantly.
The molten gold absorbed into the building.
[Chairman’s Office]
It replaced the door they had shattered.
Too much luck.
The Scales tipped sharply to one side.
Distributing luck to many good souls.
Days later.
Chaos erupted worldwide.
[16,751 Powerball Winners? First Prize a measly 2.1 million won?]
[Lottery Manipulation Scandal: "How are there 20,000 first-prize winners?!" Payouts under a million won.]
[Korea, US, Japan, China, Europe—lottery winners surging everywhere.]
A minor event, if you could call it that, over one week.