First Loan: Becoming Handsome Again

The branch where I started working was located in Podoks City, about 8 km south of headquarters.

"Good morning."

"Hello, Team Leader."

Mornings at the Dimensional Credit Vault West Podoks Branch started early. I exchanged greetings with the teller specialists in the employee hallway as I clocked in. Just like some major Korean banks, I'd be working as a team leader during my six-month probation period. Once probation ended, I'd get promoted straight to assistant manager with a raise—thinking about it alone made me happy.

"Morning, Jian."

"Hey, Fred sunbae. What's for lunch today?"

"Uh... B set?"

I chatted idly with my senior banker in the vault, pulled out the cash we'd need for the day, loaded it into the tills, and finished prepping for business. There was something satisfying about slipping into a suit and settling behind the counter. The pride of landing this job fueled my motivation in a beautiful virtuous cycle.

"You're getting fast now, Jian."

Fred, the merman assistant manager, clapped me on the shoulder. His catfish whiskers twitched as he grinned, looking pretty pleased.

"All thanks to you teaching me, sunbae."

It wasn't flattery. We'd grown close over lunches and coffees in the past month, so I'd picked up the ropes from the tellers and other seniors smoothly.

"Nah. Even among the public recruits, no one learned this quick."

"I'll keep pushing harder... haha."

I was lucky my mentor didn't treat me like some parachute special hire dropping in. I'd figured it'd take at least three months to work without mistakes, but I adapted way faster than expected. This job really suited me.

"Did you finish that movie I lent you yesterday?"

"Watched the first one, gonna binge the rest today. The action was insane."

Fred sunbae, with his neat afro that really stood out, was a total movie buff. He even lent me classics from this world, being kind beyond just work stuff.

"Right. You know the section chief's desk is empty starting today?"

"Yeah. Heard he's on sick leave. Pretty serious?"

"That's why. I had to step in as acting chief with approval authority. Limit's 20 million gulden, though."

"For real?"

Fred scratched his head and nodded. Approval authority let you approve loans under a certain amount without the branch manager or HQ credit department sign-off. Section chiefs could lend 20 to 30 million gulden—converted to won, that was no small change. Not huge for the bank, but several months' salary for an average salaryman. I got why Fred, only two years ahead of me in seniority, felt the pressure.

"Why I'm telling you this? Deputy's out on a business trip too."

"Yeah."

"I'm covering section chief duties, so the boss wants you to handle my old tasks."

"You cool with that?"

Honestly, I wanted to cheer. Fred handled consultations for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠individuals and small businesses seeking mid-sized loans or smaller. Sure, you'd submit proposals up the chain for approval, but for a rookie team ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leader on month one of probation, it was a golden chance to dip into credit work.

Why did I want credit duties? Simple: lending money to people was what I'd dreamed of most since becoming a banker.

"What's not to like? You've watched me do it plenty. You review after hours too. You know how to write proposals, right?"

"You had me practice last week just in case. But first time live—mind reviewing it, sunbae?"

"Thorough guy. No wonder the president brought you on."

"Ah..."

Wonder who told him that. Before I could recover, Fred grinned and continued.

"Curious where I heard it?"

"Kinda, yeah..."

"Friend at HQ. Don't worry, I won't blab. Just... if you make it big, don't pretend you don't know me. Got it?"

He slapped my shoulder with that cheeky grin, leaving me speechless.

"But sunbae, truth is, I've never met the president. As you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know, I'm from Earth, Dimension 3-1—no travel visa or anything. Still don't get why they hired me."

"You'll figure it out. Rumor has it something similar happened ten years ago... Anyway, not our worry now."

"True, big shots have their reasons. So, loan consultations start today?"

"Duh."

"Yes sir...!"

I pumped my fist dramatically, grabbed my nameplate from the deposit/withdrawal counter, and moved it to the loan window. Even as the handler, the approvers bore most of the responsibility—no need to stress. Sayonara to boring deposit work and opening accounts. Finally, time to put that Job Authority I'd been saving to use.

"Alright then. Loans—let's consult without judging."

I slapped my cheeks to hype myself up. My shoulders tensed with excitement. Counting the days until I could handle loans felt like standing at the starting line of a dream.

But maybe because it was early in the month when wallets were flush, no loan seekers showed in the two hours after opening. Meanwhile, I handled walk-ins for account openings and deposits/savings.

Regrettably, the boredom dragged on until lunchtime.

"...Why's no one coming?"

Usually, people—personal or business—jockeyed for numbers to borrow. Today? Zero applicants. Like a lie.

"Not messing with me, right."

Why'd this happen right after I took the counter? A few earlier customers bit on funds and IRP (personal retirement pension) sign-ups for some performance points, but no walk-ins, no consult calls. Honestly, screw performance—I just wanted a loan case.

"What's up? Itchy?"

"Nah, Fred sunbae. Just sweaty."

"I get the pressure, but relax. Ask if you're stuck. Lunch when?"

"After you."

"Cool. Be quick."

Fred grabbed smokes and headed to the staff cafeteria after morning ops. Guy's speed was unreal—rumors of him being an ace public recruit checked out. No slacking for me.

Fifteen minutes after I reset with perfect smile and posture...

"Customer B-001, please proceed to window 4."

The man with the ticket glanced over. Doberman-like ears and tail on a humanoid frame. Shaggy hair and beard, glasses hiding his face. Medium height, bit paunchy. Not casual—more like he grabbed whatever was clean. Face hard to see, but maybe 40s. Not salaryman from the hair and beard. Self-employed? Freelancer? Either way, if he needed the bank and lived honestly, I'd greet with a smile. Time to work.

"How can I assist, sir?"

"I want to borrow money. About 3,000."

30 million gulden—unsecured loan territory. Credit-dependent, but perfect size for my first case. I could nail this.

"Purpose?"

He replied in a low, husky voice.

"I need to be reborn looking cool and handsome. By month's end."

His eyes burned with fierce determination.

"......"

"......"

Brain short-circuited at the curveball. Borrowing from a bank to get handsome? Blind date next month or something? Writing "cosmetics" on the proposal form—what then? Exceeded Fred's limit. He'd sigh and stamp if I begged, but branch manager's office? Disaster. I pictured the boss smashing Fred's head with a file corner instead of a stamp. Not keen on hair implants before 30.

"Not quite following—mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Go ahead."

Okay. Couldn't deny if he repaid. Unsecured loan. But checks first.

"For plastic surgery costs?"

I winced, blunt as it was. Medical beauty loans trended in China back home—not weird here. But Dimensional Credit Vault was prime bank, not shady second-tier like old Korean credit unions. Wouldn't wire for boob jobs at 34.9% no-collateral rates.

"Hardly."

He swept back his hair, expression indifferent—like, what kinda talk is that?

"If I can return to my most spotlighted prime? That's enough."

Now-visible features: sharp eyes gleaming through the fat. An oddly intense confidence walled me off.

"Hmm."

Some untouched lottery ticket vibes in spots.

...Bullshit. Focus.

"Glad it's not surgery. Relieved."

"So, loan possible?"

"A few more checks okay?"

He nodded silently.

Two things mattered: why borrow to scratch lotteries, and more crucially, repayment capacity via finances/collateral.

Club hopper or sugar baby? Bank's business as long as principal plus interest returned. Perfect loan-repayment cycle.

But "cosmetics" on the form? No dice.

"Sorry, can't write 'cosmetics' on docs. Mind sharing the goal behind the beauty upgrade?"

"Goal?"

"Yeah. Like a job interview coming up..."

He bit his lip, nodding as if getting it.

"Never borrowed before, but credit and collateral seem key. Don't have those."

"......"

Then what gall brings you here?

"Guess I should explain properly. Why I need it, how I'll repay."

Didn't look like a cornered loon babbling.

"You mentioned job interviews. As a freelancer, mine's similar."

"...Meeting clients who submitted portfolios?"

"Close. But I'm an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actor, so we call it auditions."

Voice oozed inner conviction and charisma. I shook my head hard, staring again.

Auditions? Horsefeathers. Sorry, but no visual for decent roles—no connections either.

"Consulted other banks first?"

"Yeah. Five places—all rejected no questions."

"......"

Pity stung. I'd been rejected at five for emergency funds in my poor days—way smaller amount. Fellow commercial artist, hard to ignore. His confidence screamed ace up sleeve, but credible? Unknown.

Manual said: list docs, send home, investigate.

But no need. Job Authority time.

"Your name, sir...?"

"Flat Sharpendora."

Pretending to grab the app form, I touched my badge.

My awakened Job Authority was Goddess Judgment—gauging short-term financial potential. The scale tipped heavily right toward the white orb meant...

"...?!"

Extreme tilt on the gauge. First time in a month of secret tests on consults. Obvious to anyone not an idiot: this guy was money.

One move: approve.

"Too tough after all? Sorry for wasting time. I'll—"

I grabbed Flat's wrist as he rose.

Actor, huh? Time to lay the foundation for a future cosmic superstar.