A Stolen Winning Ticket

The Constellations' game, [Laika].

Baek Haram, a hunter of the Silver Knights, could not bring himself to believe the scene unfolding before his eyes.

To think someone could solo the Moon Shadow Wolf... like this.

The truth was, he had only witnessed this by pure chance. There had been no plan to tackle the Moon Shadow Wolf today at all—he had simply intended to give his entrance candidates a single glimpse of the beast before returning to Bereshit. That much had been the settled schedule. But then someone had just happened to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠begin soloing the Moon Shadow Wolf, and there was no way he could simply walk past it.

"Whoa, that guy's really about to solo it, right?"

"It would seem so."

"Hunter, sir, would it be all right if we watched for a bit?"

"Hmm... it should make for good reference material. Keep your distance so you don't interfere with the fight, and observe quietly."

Besides, the man's equipment looked positively shabby. The strange weapon (?) was hard to identify, but at least his armor was clearly made up of the most commonplace 1-Tier gear. Haram had no idea how skilled a player he might be, but even after seven years on Beginner's Island, he wouldn't have trusted himself to hunt the Moon Wolf in equipment like that.

And so Haram had even resolved to step in if the man showed any sign of danger. The hunter is the nation's shield—that creed had always been the justification by which the Silver Knights moved, and he could not simply turn a blind eye to a player in distress.

But then...

Grrrrr—!

Taht!

"Wh-whow. Unbelievable."

"Hunter, what was that wolf skill just now?"

"That would be... Moonlight Surge, I believe."

"Moonlight Surge? Wasn't that supposed to be undodgeable?"

Once the battle began in earnest, what followed was a picture entirely unlike anything Haram had anticipated.

Is this... even a rational way to fight?

The man dodged the Moonlight Surge raw—without even sealing it off—and drove in a flawless counterattack. He parried away every frantic barrage of the wolf's charging forepaws and toyed with the Moon Shadow Wolf with movements as smooth as flowing water.

He's insane.

Could Haram himself manage it? Obviously not. If it were the guild's elite top-tier hunters? He thought they might manage something like it, but he still couldn't say for certain. To put it precisely: even at Level 20, those men had never shown anything like this.

So this is what real talent looks like?

Which meant that to display such a shocking degree of talent while still a rookie, you'd have to be a division commander within the Silver Knights. Of course, Haram could hardly presume to imagine and compare the rookie days of those monsters—but that was the scale of the shock he meant.

"Wow... Hunter, sir. Talent like that isn't exactly common, is it?"

And so, to one candidate's question, Haram answered honestly.

"Even for me, it would be impossible."

It was talent so staggering that he couldn't even muster envy.

"...!"

And yet, at this very moment, a pride in his guild was quietly blooming in Haram's chest. Why?

The knights' selection exam this year is going to be quite the spectacle.

The fact that a player of this caliber was preparing(?) for the Silver Knights' entrance test was, to a loyal guild member like Haram, immensely heartening.

I may be welcoming him as a new guild member before long.

The Silver Knights were the finest guild in South Korea. A world-class organization every hunter dreamed of joining. And the fact that the Mark of Moonlight was the qualification for the selection exam was already common public knowledge. So for a player of that caliber to bother performing a pointless Moon Wolf solo could only mean one thing—he was preparing to join the Silver Knights!

At least, that was the only conclusion Haram could reach. Because there was no way for him to know that several perfectly reasonable propositions he'd arrived at through common sense were, in fact, dead wrong.

For instance, that the man's level was not 20 but 9. Or that after a decade or so spent in another world, he had no idea what the Silver Knights even were. Truths that defied common sense were simply not the kind of things an ordinary person could conceive of.

"Wow! Already down?"

"He must have gotten the Mark of Moonlight, right?"

"I'm so jealous..."

And so, after gazing at the man from a distance for a moment, Haram turned to leave, a fond smile having crept onto his face at some point.

"Now, all of you can become like that too, given time. Isn't that right?"

"Of course, Instructor!"

"We can do it!"

"Good. Then let's head back. Training awaits, doesn't it?"

Haram's steps toward Bereshit had grown considerably lighter.

Brilliant.

And dazzling.

A faint azure pillar of light was rising from the fallen Moon Shadow Wolf, and my heartbeat couldn't help but quicken with every passing second as I stared at it.

Why?

A pillar of light erupting from a corpse was a phenomenon that only appeared when an equipment item of Unique grade or higher dropped.

And within the Moon Wolf's drop table, there existed exactly one piece of Unique-grade equipment.

Just as the Constellations said, this was unmistakably the Moonlight Sword.

A Unique grade item, and not just any—a full 3-Tier longsword, no less. And the value of this thing was...

Contrary to the Constellations' nonsense, it was worth at least a hundred times more than my iron shovel.

Th-this... is insane!!!

So it was only natural ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that my heart felt ready to burst right out of my chest. If I cash-farmed the mission reward from the Profligate 2nd Imperial Throne on top of the Moonlight Sword, I might make close to five million won today alone.

Honestly, I never in my wildest dreams expected to touch money like this on only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Day 2.

Am I about to get rich here?

And so, heart pounding, I began reading down the item information window. Both corners of my mouth were already twitching upward beyond any hope of control.

Ha, attack power 45?

Maxed-out main stat... and crit rate maxed too! Even stopping here, it was intoxicating—and the info window had a second page besides. And the existence of a page 2 meant an innate ability was attached.

Innate abilities were passive-skill-like effects that only began appearing on Unique-grade equipment, with a mere 30% drop chance.

Hahh...!

This is what happiness is!

Click—

But wait. Just a moment.

The name of the innate ability that came into view the instant I turned the page was... somehow off.

Soulbound... you say?

It couldn't be. That... that Soulbound, the one I know?

I can't be seeing things right now, can I?

But no matter how many times I rubbed my eyes and looked again, down to the very description it was exactly the Soulbound innate ability I knew.

Heat flooded my head all at once, and both of my pupils began to shake without mercy.

Shock?

Yeah, I'd just taken a proper one.

Because the worst possible problem—a scenario I'd never even thought to hypothesize—had just occurred.

Was the problem that some useless innate ability had rolled? As if. Even if something pathetic had attached itself, I wouldn't have been thrown into this much of a panic.

Besides, on pure stats alone, Soulbound was a top-tier innate ability. No—the real problem was the one penalty that inevitably came dragging along the moment it attached.

That was exactly why my pupils had gone feral.

Of all the countless innate abilities in existence... it had to be THIS one?

No matter how hard I denied it, reality did not budge an inch.

And so Lee Gunyul, the cash-farming hero who had lost his nation, sank to his knees where he stood.

Apparently moved by the sheer cleanliness of the raid, the thoroughly worked-up Constellations kept showering me with praise.

But the cash-farming hero who had lost his nation could not, for the life of him, feel any better.

I had collected the mission reward in full, too... but it made no difference whatsoever.

Why, you ask?

Because even at his very best, my total net worth still couldn't crack 200 LP.

I had just lost 380 LP...

Meaning I'd lost a fortune worth more than double everything I owned.

Why is this trial being visited upon ME of all people...!

So tell me—how was a cash-farming hero supposed to keep his mental state intact?

If you're going to ask how something sitting right there in my inventory could possibly count as "lost," I'd have to call that a complete absence of cash-farming sensibility.

They keep sneaking facts into the conversation like cowards—but so what, I'm allowed to be sad!

These empathy-deficient Constellation bastards had clearly never touched a stock in their lives. Losses are supposed to be measured not against your principal, but against the all-time high of your account.

* This is an account-bound item. It cannot be transferred to another player.

Even rereading the equipment options, I couldn't believe it. How could luck this improbable and misfortune this improbable stack on top of each other at the same time!

The truth was, account-bound equipment wasn't common in Laika. Why?

Because account-binding itself was an option that only materialized when a rare innate ability rolled onto a piece of equipment.

Innate abilities were effects that rolled, probabilistically, only onto equipment of Unique grade or higher... So first you had to punch through that roughly 30% chance of an innate ability attaching at all. And then, out of an uncountable number of possible innate abilities, the one related to account-binding had to be the one that rolled—of all things—before the item finally became account-bound.

Realistically, you'd find one after picking up what, two hundred unique items or so?

It was a structure that simply could not exist commonly.

And yet that exact structure had landed on my Moonlight Sword.

This was nothing short of having your winning lottery ticket stolen.

And now that the Constellations had finally grasped the full arc of my sad little story, they began guffawing in earnest.

It's not a bit, hyung-nim.

I'm... sorry, what?

You clueless Constellation little...!

"Whew."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The injustice of it all finally got the better of me. It seemed I had no choice but to show these people exactly what kind of war I was fighting.

In other words: I would have to display the information window of my shovel before the Constellations' very eyes.

Behold—this is the kind of man you're dealing with.

And the effect of sharing the information window was tremendous.

The Constellations, who had been cackling like mad, all fell silent at once, as if they'd planned it in advance.

They had apparently taken quite the blow. Fair enough.

Even I hadn't known I could take down a Moon Wolf this fast while holding something like that.

But then...

In the very next moment, a scene unfolded before my eyes that made me doubt them both.

"Hhk."

The donation alert chime, which hadn't rung even once when I'd taken down the Moon Wolf in spectacular fashion, suddenly began pinging and popping through the air.

Even Constellations who had only just arrived joined in on the donations.

True, it was still only a handful of viewers donating.

But for a bottom-tier streamer like me, it was nothing short of a cultural shock.

Uh...

Why is everyone suddenly doing this? Had everyone finally managed to "empathize" with my pain?

Just as that thought crossed my mind...

Ding—!

The instant I saw the donation message from Count Grape—the very patron who hadn't given me a single coin until now—I dropped straight into a full dogeza bow.

"Hyu—Hyung-nim!!"