The Joy of Spending Wealth
Lee Sang-byuk once said something.
“Cheol-ong, back in the day my old man told me something. Listen up, it’s a real gem.”
In his youth, he was busy making money.
In middle age, he focused on protecting it.
In his later years, he devoted himself to spending it with joy.
“Hah! Isn’t that something? Not just spending it—devoting himself to spending it with joy. My old man was something else, wasn’t he?”
For the record, the “old man” here was Lee Sang-byuk’s father—Lee Shin’s great-grandfather. Despite always calling him “old man,” he was one of the few people the iron-willed Lee Sang-byuk truly respected.
That was why the chairman’s office at Lee Do Group displayed his father’s final words in the most prominent spot. In a way, Lee Shin had also benefited from those very words.
The reason Lee Sang-byuk suddenly brought this up was because these days, he felt exactly like his father had.
Who knew spending money could be this fun!
“Hahahahaha!! Did you see that, Cheol-ong?!”
“Jong-pil and that Yu Shin kid are smacking the brats around again.”
“That’s my guild. Lee Sang-byuk’s guild! Puhahaha!”
Ever since Mir Guild rose to the majors, the top floor of Lee Do Group—where Chairman Lee Sang-byuk operated—had undergone multiple renovations. The small conference room and the bedroom he occasionally used for naps were torn out one after another. In their place came screens and audio systems, transforming the space into something indistinguishable from a private theater.
Exactly. All of it was so he could enjoy Mir Guild’s matches in maximum comfort.
These days, Lee Sang-byuk’s greatest pleasure was sipping soju with Yu Cheol-ong while tearing into kimchi and watching Mir Guild trounce their opponents like they were catching mice.
Wait—why “multiple” renovations?
Because…
“The sound’s still off, isn’t it? That thump-thump-thump doesn’t hit me right here in the chest. No sense of presence. That’s our electronics brand, right? Tch, they’re so busy churning out smartphones they’ve gotten lazy with the basics.”
“I’ll have it replaced immediately.”
“Look, the competitive raid matches start the day after tomorrow. Get it sorted by then. And while you’re at it, light a fire under their asses. If they can’t even handle sound, how are they supposed to handle the world? Tch.”
Apparently, watching the opening match from the VVIP seats had been too overwhelming. Trying to recapture that same thrill and emotion naturally left him feeling two percent short.
But what could he do?
Lee Sang-byuk didn’t care about the details. He just wanted that feeling back—now. Thanks to him, brand-new equipment worth hundreds of millions of won was swapped out every few matches.
Still, from his perspective, that kind of money was pocket change. Compared to what came next, it was a very minor pleasure.
One day while watching a match, he noticed the cheering tools weren’t consistent.
“The match itself is plenty fun, but those things have been bothering me so much I can’t focus. We need to make them uniform, don’t we?”
“Now that you mention it, Cheol-ong, you know the fan club president, right? Tell them to fix it. I’ll pay.”
The very next round, the Yongbung-i on TV were all holding brand-new cheering rods. They sparkled in seven colors and even had Bluetooth remote-control functions.
Lee Sang-byuk watched the perfectly synchronized lights with satisfaction.
“There we go. Now that’s worth watching. As expected, when they’re all together it looks proper, doesn’t it?”
But human greed knows no bounds, and neither does the world of coordination.
Once the lights were unified, his desires simply moved elsewhere.
“Hmm, we need a focal point. You know, something that really stands out. Cheol-ong, take those fashion-obsessed kids and put your heads together.”
The very next round, the Yongbung-i on screen were wearing brand-new mufflers. White and sky-blue—the team’s colors—with a majestic golden dragon embroidered in gold thread.
“Hah, perfect. I love it.”
Now that they had mufflers, indoor temperature control became important, didn’t it?
He poured stadium support funds into blasting the air conditioning and heating, and when someone complained the flower petals and fireworks after a victory at Yongwanggung were too cheap, he immediately upgraded them to full festival level with “Let’s not be stingy about this.”
The saying “a late-blooming otaku is terrifying” was no exaggeration. Once Lee Sang-byuk caught the bug, no one could stop him.
Especially the “observer” issue, which had been driving the fans up the wall.
Of course, the observer wasn’t a spy.
It was someone who had been with them since League 3—there was no way they’d do that. The real problem was that Mir’s match tempo had become ridiculously fast, and the observer simply couldn’t keep up.
But when Lee Sang-byuk heard this explanation, he couldn’t understand it at all.
“Hold on, Cheol-ong. So you’re saying that observer’s skill only goes that far. Then we should move them to a position that matches their ability. Why keep them in that seat?”
“Those broadcast station bastards are running things too loosely. Did they think I poured my hard-earned money into them just so they could do that?”
Mir Guild’s matches were famous for having the highest production costs in the entire league—easily twice that of second-place Kirin Guild.
All of it was thanks to Lee Sang-byuk and Lee Do Group’s generosity. They told the production team to spend money like water and only worry about quality.
Naturally, the incentives given to the production department were generous. If they couldn’t deliver quality worth what they were paid, they had to step down.
As expected, starting from the next round, the observer problem was cleanly resolved.
Besides that, various other issues and conveniences were also addressed.
In barely half a season.
If the Yongbung-i couldn’t notice this level of financial barrage, they’d be idiots.
The guild and its fans changed day by day. The more money was poured in, the better the results and the louder the fans’ cheers and praise became. In turn, the players repaid them with even better performances.
A perfect virtuous cycle.
Had any of Lee Sang-byuk’s businesses ever received this kind of applause?
Never. Even when he established a charity foundation with good intentions, people accused him of tax evasion. When he lowered prices, they claimed the products must be defective.
But this guild was pure.
Could something really be this pure—something you could simply applaud and enjoy?
To Lee Sang-byuk, who had only ever been called a miser or money-grubber, it was a small shock.
An emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Yes—this was fun. It was joy. It was happiness.
“I never understood those bonsai people before.”
“You used to ask why anyone would spend money on something they couldn’t eat or play with.”
“I must have been wrong. Just watching this is plenty entertaining.”
“If you’re happy, Chairman, then that’s my happiness. It’s time for your exercise. Here’s your water and Woongjindan.”
“Right, right. Haha, thanks to this guild I feel younger these days. I like it.”
His father’s words were never wrong.
Once he started spending money with joy, life itself became joyful. It gave laughter to his later years, which had none, and filled his worn-out heart with the fuel of vitality.
A life that grew younger every day. What could be better in one’s later years? Indeed, Lee Sang-byuk’s face as he ran on the treadmill looked several years younger.
“Chairman, Young Master Lee Shin is asking if you have any spare yachts.”
“A yacht? Why?”
“He says the entire guild is planning a vacation during the break. If you have a decent yacht, he’d like to borrow it.”
“Let’s see… the break starts the day after they face Kirin, right?”
“Yes.”
“Received.”
“Chairman……?”
“Heh heh, just wanted to try saying it.”
Lose and you get a yacht. Win and you get a cruise.
That was what he had decided.
Mir Guild’s Breaking Vacation had been planned exactly like this.
* * *
“Waaah~!”
“Woaaah!!”
Children in swimsuits leaped into the outdoor pool. The massive water slide, the long lazy river, and the various attractions of the water park were already packed with screaming kids.
Several mothers were enjoying the warm sunlight from the second-floor lounge chairs where they could keep an eye on their children.
“Kids, don’t run! You’ll get hurt!”
“Kyung-ah’s mom, can you put some cream on me?”
“Hah, the sea breeze is cool, the view is amazing—this is so, so nice.”
The ocean-view restaurant on deck was already full as well.
Korean, Chinese, Western, Japanese—chefs carefully selected from every Lee Do Hotel branch were in charge of all the meals for today.
“Honey, try this. They said the Lee Do Hotel cooking team came out here, and it’s no joke.”
“The sushi is really good. I need to order more.”
“Hah, eating like this is gonna make me gain weight, but it’s so delicious I can’t stop.”
“This isn’t an ocean view—it’s literally the ocean. Food can’t taste bad when you’re eating here.”
Just then, cheers rang out.
Woaaah!!
Kyaaaah!!
“Huh? What’s that sound?”
“It’s the dads. They’re riding jet skis over there, early in the morning.”
“Kids, just kids.”
It wasn’t wrong. It might have looked a bit childish.
But if you didn’t get excited about vehicles, you weren’t a real man.
The roaring engine sound. It wasn’t the engine that was trembling—it was their hearts. Jet skis carved trails of foam across the vast sea.
“Waaah!!”
“Wheeew~!”
If this side was for the active men, the opposite side of the deck held men of an entirely different temperament.
Men carefully peering down at the water from the yacht.
At that moment, the sound of something reeling in—charrk—drew everyone’s attention.
“It’s coming. It’s here.”
“Is it a big one?”
“Ooooh!!”
What was pulled up on the taut line was a fish.
When you thought of the sea, wasn’t fishing the obvious choice? How pitiful were those who didn’t understand the aesthetics of fishing.
Everyone was thoroughly enjoying their hobbies.
Besides that, there was a theater, a PC room, a kids’ café, and more.
Laughter never stopped among the guild members on this massive cruise. Even though it was only the first day, they were certain—this vacation was a massive success!
He’d felt a bit sorry for working them so hard, but seeing them this happy was a good sight.
Lee Shin leaned against the railing on the upper deck of the cruise, looking down at the joyful guild members with a contented smile.
Then, without shifting his gaze, he spoke.
“Thank you, Grandfather. Thanks to you, I got to save face properly.”
“Hmph. What face is there to save with just this?”
Lee Sang-byuk, looking somewhat embarrassed, answered with a nasal tone and turned his eyes downward alongside Lee Shin.
“The basics of handling people is knowing when to tighten and when to loosen properly.”
“Come on, that’s too cold. You’re talking about people like they’re parts.”
“There’s no difference. The world you and I see requires cool-headed reason more than sloppy sentiment.”
“That sounds like ‘sloppy’ to me.”
“You’re quick on the uptake. I’ll give you that.”
Lee Sang-byuk put a cigarette in his mouth, and Lee Shin grumbled “Weren’t you quitting?” while lighting it with a prepared lighter.
“A running representative. An acting representative. Good. I like it. When the top runs, the people below have no choice but to work hard too.”
“Even if it’s just to keep up appearances.”
“But you’re too fast. You’re running way ahead of everyone else.”
If the gap was reasonable, people would try to follow. But if the distance was too great, humans gave up.
“People who chase ideals are praised as great because most people can’t do that. It’s too far away. The ideal you’re chasing is exactly that kind of thing.”
“It’s right in front of my eyes.”
“Then grab it right now.”
“……Aren’t you telling me to wait?”
“Not at all.”
Lee Sang-byuk knew the true nature of the ideal Lee Shin was chasing.
That ideal was the value people called “success.”
“Success is relative. It’s competition. If you don’t take it now, someone else might snatch it. So if you see it, of course you have to run with everything you’ve got and grab it.”
“Then…”
“Anyone who can’t keep up in the process gets left behind.”
“……”
Lee Sang-byuk thought Lee Shin was running too far alone. The only person who could stay by his side was that kid Chae Dong-ha. Honestly, he felt that Jeong Sun-dong—the guild leader in name only—and several other members weren’t supporting him at all.
“They call you a genius representative and fawn over you, but in my eyes you’re too soft. If it were me, I’d have replaced more than a third of those laughing and chatting down there.”
“Like the parts you mentioned earlier?”
“Parts that rattle should be swapped out early.”
Lee Sang-byuk was firm. Lee Shin shook his head at the sight.
“Anyway, you’re nitpicking after we’ve come this far.”
“When things are good, you have to tighten the reins even more. So what’s your answer?”
“Hmm…… I don’t know.”
It was then, while Lee Shin was thinking of his reply, that footsteps approached from behind. When both men turned their heads, they found unexpected faces.
“Su-bin? Yeon-woo? Ri-ra?”
“Kids?”
“Ah, hello.”
“Hello, sir.”
“Haha! Hello!”
Park Su-bin, Baek Yeon-woo, and Yu Ri-ra.
The three children known as Lee Shin’s kids.
The three of them stood in a neat line in front of the two men.
What’s going on? At Lee Shin’s question, the three of them started bickering.
“You say it.”
“You say it.”
“What are you guys doing?”
Hand it over.
Yu Ri-ra looked at the two bickering boys with exasperation, then stepped forward and held something out to Lee Sang-byuk.
What’s this? Lee Sang-byuk tilted his head and accepted it, then his eyes widened.
It was a flag. The Mir Guild flag.
But something sparkled all over it.
“This is……”
“We collected our MVP badges. Ah, we have the other team members’ badges too.”
“Since we came up to League 1, they started giving out MVP badges, you know. Hehe.”
“We couldn’t give a gift to someone who already has everything. So this is what we came up with.”
It was a gift the raid team had prepared for the owner who gave birthday presents and allowances, took care of various conveniences, and spared no support.
Lee Sang-byuk stared at the flag covered in badges for a long time, then smiled brightly—something rare for him.
“Thank you.”
After that warm smile, the three children left. Lee Shin gave his answer as if he had been waiting.
“How about that? That’s my answer.”
If Lee Sang-byuk replaced parts for the sake of success, then to Lee Shin, success was about discovering gems like those and making them shine.
Those children were Lee Shin’s success and his answer.
Lee Sang-byuk chuckled and carefully folded the flag, tucking it into his inner pocket.
“Not a bad answer, coming from you.”
Spending wealth in his later years seemed like it would be even more fun.
“Let’s go have some soju.”