Sold in One Second

After clearing the hidden dungeon as well, I made a clean, decisive announcement to my viewers.

These people—no, these Constellations—what exactly did they take me for?

Honestly, after such an unexpected haul, a part of me wanted to keep playing, to savor the afterglow a little longer in Laika. But if I went home late again today, starting tomorrow my mother might shadow me on my way to work. Our Madam Kim Joo-yeon was more than capable of it.

So, final round of farewells.

"See you tomorrow, bro."

"Hyung-nim, what time will you log in tomorrow?"

"Hyung clocks in at eight sharp. Every day."

"Get home safe, hyung-nim!"

Having added Leo—now fully fluent in casual speech—to my friends list, I ended the connection without a moment's hesitation.

Good.

Clocking-out time: safe and sound.

Which meant it was time to settle the day's revenue.

Phew… so this is what it all adds up to.

My head had already run the numbers, but seeing the actual figure on the settlement sheet stirred something overwhelming in me. 1,172 LP. In other words, close to twelve million won. My hands trembled at the sheer size of a sum I'd never held in my life.

If I liquidate the junk drops too, that's another 100 LP or so.

The moment the thought formed, the Lunaveil set I'd handed over to Leo drifted naturally to mind. If that had been mine, I'd be sitting on at least another 1,000 LP. But feeling bitter about that would make me nothing more than a common thief—especially with two items sitting in my inventory right now, each worth a value that made the Lunaveil set look like pocket lint. Setting aside the numbered gear, the Zerathus's Flag alone would fetch dozens of times what Leo's set would sell for.

Which meant I now had a very happy dilemma on my hands.

Just how much should I ask for this thing?

First, the Zerathus's Flag. Watching the flag's obsidian-black fabric ripple faintly in my inventory, my thoughts began to churn.

Oh, you're wondering how I can open my inventory after logging out? Once you complete your hunter registration, the entire system—inventory included—becomes usable in the real world. Isn't technology wonderful?

The truth is, among all the Demonic Realm legion commanders' artifacts, the Zerathus's Flag is the least rare of the bunch. Its grade matched the others at Legendary, but its tier was a mere 6T.

What's that? Isn't 6T insanely high? Correct. For someone at my level—doing somersaults over a single 3T drop—6T absolutely qualifies as mind-boggling. It's only "low" compared to the other legion commander gear, which runs a minimum of 8T to 10T.

Either way, the flag's surface-level value boiled down to one phrase: a 6T, Legendary-grade decorative artifact. So I searched the exchange for artifacts with comparable specs.

The prices were scattered, but a rough market rate of 15,000 to 20,000 LP had settled in. My God. Twenty thousand LP—how much was that in real money? Two hundred million won?

"Hah…"

The moment "two hundred million won" crossed my mind, my heart began doing sprints. And yet, two hundred million was cheap. Selling the Zerathus's Flag for the same price as some Valkyrie trinket would be a crying shame. This was none other than a hidden class trigger item, used during the 3rd class advancement—

—and later, at the Demonic Realm's Shadow Citadel, it could even be exchanged for the egg of a top-tier shadow monster, the Erevos Wolf. A truly special item, this flag.

As I hinted earlier, my subjective fair value sat at around 100,000 LP. In other words, one billion won.

"…!"

One billion won. With that kind of money, I could wipe out nearly all of our family's debt. Honestly, it was such a staggering figure that it hadn't fully registered yet.

Mmhm.

Click—

Whoops. My hand moved before my brain could stop it.

But staring at the astronomical figure of one billion won, my inner desires and anxieties began to writhe. What if 100,000 LP was actually undercutting the Earth market? Even losing out on a mere thousand LP would keep me up all night. Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.

And if you're asking why I don't just use the thing myself, I have no choice but to cite the Two Principles of Ssalmuk:

First: never, under any circumstances, invest in your own spec.

Second: never forget the first principle.

"…"

Say it with me now—I am a cash-farming player. A ssalmuk player pumping billions of won into their own account is the very embodiment of the word "contradiction." Yep. A rice-farmer lives for today and dies by today's prices.

And why do I keep raising the price, you ask? Because this is something you can never understand without living it yourself. The fear of "what if I'm losing money on this sale" as you let go of an item—nothing on this earth drives a ssalmuk player madder than that.

And so…

Click—

How about this price, hm? This should do it.

After confirming that the Zerathus's Flag had been listed, I took a long, deep breath to steady my body and mind. Hooo. Hooo. There. At a price this absurd, I'd never regret it once it sold, right? Who in their right mind would instantly drop two and a half billion won on a 6T Legendary item? That's ten times the price of everything else comparable. If anyone wanted it, they'd at least have to go through the exchange and negotiate first, so—

Ding—!

The very next instant.

Hold on. What was I just looking at? I was pretty sure exactly one second had passed since I hit the register button.

The messages floating up one after another triggered a full-blown case of cognitive dissonance, leaving my brain blue-screened, my eyes doing nothing but blink in the void.

Just a moment.

What had I just witnessed?

"What the— shit?"

No way… had I undersold it, again?

The Sword Princess emerged from her meeting with a mind in considerable disarray.

Had the sponsor meeting gone poorly? No—it had, in fact, gone exceptionally well. The sponsor had been so taken with her that they'd agreed to nearly every condition she'd asked for.

Which meant, of course, that the reason for her turmoil was the Zerathus's Flag. Acquiring that item was, at this moment, a task more important to her than anything else in the world.

I have to get it, even if it costs me.

The Silver Knights had said it wouldn't be difficult to track down, so locating the owner would surely be quick enough. The real question was whether the player holding it would let it go easily. Before she even got to haggling over price, there was the more fundamental doubt of whether it would be sold at all. And if the owner went poking around here and there trying to "properly appraise" its value, the situation would turn catastrophic for her.

I can't afford to rush this…

If the issue of the Zerathus's Flag ever surfaced into public view, it would inevitably become a talking point among the rankers who held related clues. And once that happened, the pieces of her 3rd advancement quest might start clicking into place for them too, like a puzzle assembling itself. That could not be allowed. If it were, the unscrupulous schemers hoping to check her rise would multiply by the truckload.

Ding—!

[Refresh: Sales Listings.]

Which was why the Sword Princess had been monitoring the exchange's sales list every spare moment since earlier. It wasn't as if the player who'd obtained the Zerathus's Flag would actually list it right away.

Even if some naive player stumbled into it by sheer luck, they'd at least request a formal appraisal from the association first…

She knew perfectly well how foolish this vigil was, and yet—

Ding! Ding!

It was nothing more than an anxiety-soothing ritual, an action with no real meaning behind it. Yes—she hadn't even remotely expected anything to actually turn up.

[1 item found.]

"Huh?"

What followed was, quite literally, a knee-jerk reflex. Before she could even register her own bewilderment, her hand had already slammed the purchase button on the listing.

And then, the next moment—

something truly astonishing happened.

Wha— what? It actually went through?

How much had it cost again? Two hundred thousand LP? Something like that… Had she been carrying that much? The sponsor contract's advance payment should have landed by now—that must have been it.

"…!"

It stung a little to pay such a premium, but in the end, that hardly mattered. She'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bought it, and that was that. For anyone else, perhaps it would have been a different story—but for her, who needed to receive the 3rd hidden class advancement quest for [Radiant Sword Saint], this much bloodletting was truly nothing at all.

So please.

Heart pounding, the Sword Princess immediately opened her inventory to check the item. And upon confirming its contents, she found herself flustered for two separate reasons.

The first: the Zerathus's Flag she had just purchased was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠genuine.

"Gah."

The second: the amount remaining in her account after buying the flag was…

practically pocket change.

"Does this… even make sense?"

For a fleeting instant, the Sword Princess felt goosebumps crawl up her skin. If she'd been short by a mere 300 LP, she would never have been able to buy the flag at all. The thought flashed through her mind that this might not be simple coincidence after all.

What if the seller knew my exact exchange balance?

She knew the notion was absurd—but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠once the idea took root, suspicion flooded every corner of her mind. Alongside the equally unsettling realization that whoever had obtained this flag could not possibly be an ordinary person.

Ugh. I feel like I just got played somehow.

The moment the thought reached that point, the money suddenly began to feel wasted. The Silver Knights' standard request-completion fee was 100,000 LP—meaning she'd paid roughly a 2.5x premium for this.

Damn it.

Wasn't there a saying that a person's thinking differs before and after they visit the outhouse? She'd told herself that no matter the price, as long as she could obtain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, that was enough. Now her stomach was starting to churn.

Which was why she had no choice but to check the seller's information.

What kind of person could this be…?

She found herself wanting to pay this "Dave" a visit, if the opportunity ever arose—just to find out who was hiding behind the name.