The Constellations' Game: Laika

Without even thinking about it, my eyes darted to my remaining LP. And I very nearly soiled myself.

Insane. How much money is that, all together? For the first time, a wild thought flickered through my mind: maybe my true talent wasn't in being a hero at all. Maybe it was in streaming.

"You are right, hyung-nim. To think you'd empathize with my suffering to this extent...!"

Investing, though — I had no idea what they meant by that. If a streamer you sponsored grew big, did the Constellations get something out of it too? I couldn't recall ever hearing about anything like that...

My curiosity had been piqued — but a filter had censored everything, and I couldn't make out a single word. So there is something to it, apparently... Well, whatever. Other things (?) mattered more to me right now. Like, say, LP. Which meant all I had to do was savor this very moment. I am happy right now.

The fawning from the Constellations was a little much, admittedly. But hey — good things are good things, aren't they?

"I've never been measured. And there is zero chance my potential is S. My talent was certified bottom-of-the-barrel trash by the administrator fairies themselves, remember?"

Ah, my dear viewers. Have you simply been swallowing everything whole?

"No, thank you. I'd rather not get my feelings hurt."

The Constellations were raving about how insanely impressive I was — but I, Lee Gunyul, am a man of truly rigorous self-awareness. The only reason I was performing this well wasn't some phenomenal talent. It was that my playtime was, at the bare minimum, roughly ten thousand times longer than everyone else's.

"It's not a bit, I'm telling you."

Whew. Perhaps it was the financial therapy — or maybe I was just getting used to it — but chatting with the Constellations was becoming more and more fun. Was that why? As I kept engaging with them, my viewer count had been creeping up bit by bit as well.

Seventeen. We'd crossed into double digits and were already gazing at twenty — I was overcome with emotion. So this is what they call gaining momentum, huh? Then I suppose I'd better row while the water's rising.

"But of course, hyung-nims. Heheh... and speaking of which, if you were to hand out another mission or two..."

In truth, I'd been watching for the timing since a while ago. The moment I took my next step, I'd felt it in my gut: I absolutely needed to land another mission. It wasn't just that I'd tasted how sweet mission payouts could be. Call it instinct — I understood that for the sake of the stream itself, a mission was essential. Besides, Count Grape hyung-nim had promised me one in the first place if I brought down the Moon Shadow Wolf. I figured that gave me plenty of grounds to try.

Hm, though now that I thought about it... he'd already splurged a whole 500 LP on me. Surely he wasn't feeling sour about it? A sudden bashfulness crept over me as the thought formed — and mercifully, Count Grape hyung-nim dashed my worries to pieces.

Truly worthy of the title hyung-nim. I knew from the very start that you were no ordinary man!

Ding-!

My heart was already pounding before I'd even read the details. At this rate, isn't my heart going to give out?

The mission window was simple. Yet even within that simplicity, the first thing to catch my eye was the posted reward.

Unbelievable. Another 500 LP? What exactly do they want me to do to be throwing around 500 LP... But the instant that thought crossed my mind as I read the mission through, I froze.

"...!"

I couldn't help but be considerably taken aback.

The clear condition was nothing more than leveling up. There was a time limit, sure — but 168 hours amounted to, at most, one week. Even that felt absurdly generous. Are you perhaps a guardian angel of donations, sir?

Yet when the acceptance prompt appeared, I hesitated. Accepting it right away felt... a little wrong on my conscience, somehow. Of course, the number 500 LP alone already had my heart galloping — but still. I was Hunter Dave. A man who understood the meaning of loyalty. If I was going to pocket another enormous sum of 500 LP, I believed I owed them something commensurate in return.

Reaching Level 20 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠within a week was so easy it almost felt insulting to call it a mission. No doubt Count Grape hyung-nim simply wanted to slip me some pocket money — but this felt like the moment to look at the forest, not just one tree. So I spoke up, boldly.

"Still, this one weighs on my conscience a bit, hyung-nim."

"How about three days?"

"You set the time limit at seven days, but honestly, that's far too generous to really call a mission, isn't it? So — I'll deliver the result within three days!"

"Yes, sir. Reach Level 20 within that window. Surely that's the minimum qualification for pocketing 500 LP, no?"

In truth, I'd initially been about to say forty-eight hours, but I chickened out and padded it a little for breathing room. It had taken me roughly ten hours to hit Level 10, so at that pace, Level 20 in 48 hours was entirely feasible... but who knew what variables might pop up? I figured I needed at least a minimal safety margin. Phew. Because if I failed to claim that 500 LP after all this, I might genuinely burst into tears.

Right. If I've been strong-armed into wielding the Moonlight Sword and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still can't hit Level 20 on day four... then I deserve to go lie down and die somewhere.

But the reaction was strange again. It seemed the Constellation hyung-nims' signature fear-mongering routine had kicked off.

"No, sir. Sleep time was, naturally, factored in."

Oh, for goodness' sake. Here they go again. They'd buried me under dread before the Moon Shadow Wolf mission, too. I'll admit I was genuinely spooked back then — but I don't fall for the same trick twice, thank you very much.

It seemed that when a mission dropped, burying the recipient under fear first was simply the custom of this trade. Well, it didn't matter. The hyung-nim who mattered most — the Count — appeared quite taken with my proposal.

And in the very next moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I'd made the right call.

The system messages that followed carried contents of staggering magnitude.

I truly hadn't asked for anything this extreme.

"...!!"

Two thousand... LP? So you're staking twenty million won on me right now? If I pull this off, I'll have earned... a bare minimum of thirty million won in roughly four days... Am I even allowed to be this happy?

"THAT'S INSANE!!"

The shout burst straight out of my mouth, but this was beyond my control. They said even veteran hunters struggled to pull in hundreds of millions of won a month. At this pace, maybe I actually could? Ahem. Business (?) really should be conducted with a clean conscience. Sincerity, it turned out, worked everywhere.

The instant I slammed the accept button, it already felt like I had two thousand LP. Once the mission settlement came through, my bank account was going to be absolutely stuffed.

"THANK YOU, SIR!!"

"Oh, but it is. Heheheh."

Planning to buy yourself something tasty once the LP settles? Yeah, right. Just staring at my bank balance would fill me up — why would I waste money eating?

But just as I was grinning to myself in silence, the hunter hyung-nims started talking about something I'd never heard of.

A "safe asset"? What on earth is a safe asset, hyung-nims?

Guhk. I don't know what it means... but overwhelming gratitude to you all...

With the other Constellations suddenly joining the fray, the LP riding on the mission ballooned to a grand total of 2,700 LP. A safe asset? What in the world was that supposed to be?

"Er... you're right that I had the content angle in mind... but I never once gave up any LP, sir?"

"..."

In any case, to live up to this overwhelming outpouring of support, I couldn't afford to dawdle any longer. So I threw myself into motion with full vigor.

"Alright, hyung-nims! It's eleven o'clock right now, yes?"

"Then first, I'm hitting Level 12 before two o'clock! Until then, even if it's a grinding no-commentary snoozefest, please bear with me!"

"But of course I know that."

But it didn't matter. It wouldn't have been easy with the iron shovel — but what was in my hand now was the fabled Moonlight Sword itself. And since things had come to this, I intended to squeeze every last drop of value out of this blade.

By the time I hit Level 12 in the Laurel Zone, I should have a good 200 units of obsidian powder banked. The common mobs of the Laurel Zone — the plain old Shadow Wolves — dropped obsidian powder. So I'd carve through them, stock up on what I was short, then return to the village, have an Obsidian ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ring crafted, and push all the way to the gates of Moonlight Garden. That, precisely, would be today's goal. Skip lunch, and the whole schedule was comfortably achievable before quitting time.

Sreeeng-! With the plan laid out, I drew the Moonlight Sword and dove straight into the hunt.

And then I brought down my very first Shadow Wolf.

Shraaaaaak-!

The moment I spotted the pale blue mist curling up from the tip of the blade, goosebumps rippled across my whole body.

Hold on. Why is this... working right now?