The Weight of Pride
Yoon Philip was Lee Young-bin’s right-hand man and the core of the Lee Young-bin faction.
At the same time, he was his only true friend who had walked the same path through life, a partner in both wealth and fame, success and failure—a comrade bound by destiny.
Yoon Philip flipped through the documents his secretary had left behind and continued speaking.
“You’ve got data you can see with your own eyes, and you’ve already confirmed the results in person. There’s no need to overthink it—just pour in the support. Stop being so damn stubborn.”
His voice was light and playful, far from dignified, yet true to his role as Lee Young-bin’s closest aide, he struck straight at the heart of the matter.
But Lee Young-bin seemed uncomfortable at having his thoughts read so easily. A deep crease formed between his brows. His old friend clicked his tongue.
“Heh heh, seriously, you’re such a narrow-minded little anchovy. You’ve got plenty of flaws, but that one’s especially bad. You always assume everything will go exactly the way you predict, and when it doesn’t, you refuse to admit it and just deny reality.”
“You wanna die? Watch your mouth.”
“Watch your moooouth~”
“This bastard…”
“Even if you cut out all the fluff, the fact remains that Lee Shin has performed way beyond expectations. As his father, just congratulate him sincerely. Give him some encouragement. Use that money you’re so good at throwing around.”
“I’m already supporting him, you arrogant…”
“A few hundred billion? Come on, man. Do you even know how much your little brother spent to recruit talent for his own kid’s guild? Compared to that, this is less than a twentieth. At the very least, you should match what your other siblings have given to their guilds so you can at least save face later.”
“……”
“Listen, you stubborn fool. I know what your pride is hung up on, but you need to acknowledge what deserves acknowledging. Lee Shin actually pulled it off, didn’t he? Could you have achieved the same success in his position? I know I couldn’t.”
“……”
He couldn’t deny it.
Just as his friend said—if Lee Young-bin himself had charged forward under the exact same conditions, could he have produced the results Lee Shin had achieved?
He tried to picture it, but the image refused to form.
Honestly, if you erased the name “Lee Shin” from the equation, even Lee Young-bin would have been clapping and singing praises for the Mir Guild’s success.
“Well, if you want me to add another reason why you should like this, I can.”
Among the guilds owned by Ido—the ones referred to as “Ido’s children”—none were currently capable of promoting to the First Division. Naturally, the Mir Guild had the highest probability of becoming the sole promoted guild. If they poured in heavy support now, they could at least claim a seat at the table once promotion happened.
Beyond that, there were other reasons: keeping the other siblings in check, flaunting power to maintain influence, and so on.
No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find a single reason not to support Lee Shin.
But his friend still couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge his son because of that tiny scrap of pride. As a friend, Philip decided to deliver one final blow.
“Here. Take a look at this.”
“What is it? A newspaper…?”
“It’s a local Busan paper. Where do you think I saw this?”
“What are you trying to say? Suddenly talking about…”
“The chairman’s office.”
“……!!”
Yoon Philip said,
“The Chairman is paying attention to Shin.”
Mir Guild.
“Uwaahahahahaha!!”
The laughter burst through the thick walls of the representative’s office. The front desk staff briefly froze with expressions that said, “What on earth is going on?” before quickly realizing it was Lee Shin’s voice. They all smiled and went about their business.
It was especially loud today, but their representative’s default setting was “cheerful,” so they figured something good must have happened.
They were exactly right. Lee Shin was currently dancing a joyful tap routine.
Alone in his office, he spun in circles, stomping his feet with childish glee. He was beyond excited.
“Why is the world so bright today? Shin’s eyes are dazzled and he can’t even open them~!”
For the record, that was a lie. The weather today was overcast.
Through the floor-to-ceiling window that covered one entire wall, autumn rain streamed down in steady lines.
But a fully hyped-up Lee Shin couldn’t care less. To him, those dark clouds shone as brilliantly as noon in midsummer, and the falling raindrops looked like fireworks celebrating his victory.
Finally—today—!!
All the frantic running around he had done until now had finally borne fruit!!
“Puhahahahaha!!”
Lee Shin alternated his gaze between the letter on his desk and the message window floating at the edge of his vision, bursting into roaring laughter.
What had he been running around like a dog in heat for all this time?
It was all for this. The sweet, sweet reward time!
As a user who loved the GM, managing a guild and nurturing his favorite character was certainly enjoyable, but nothing beat the thrill of reward time.
Lee Shin rubbed his hands together like a child on Christmas Eve and sat down in his chair, brimming with anticipation.
“What should I look at first??”
The letter? The message? The letter? The message?
The pleasant dilemma lasted only a moment.
True to his principle of saving the best for last, Lee Shin picked up the letter envelope first.
This particular letter was the fresh, piping-hot one from Lee Young-bin that had arrived this morning via his secretary noona.
When he opened the envelope, he saw writing so tiny it looked like sesame seeds.
It was written in full cursive script—the hallmark of those overly serious types.
He clearly wanted to broadcast the message, “I am showing proper sincerity.”
The luxurious mahogany-patterned letter paper was filled with Lee Young-bin’s meticulous cursive handwriting, every stroke radiating his strict personality.
It was good.
The sentimental choice of a handwritten letter, the elegant penmanship, the visible effort—everything was excellent.
All of it was perfect… except the content was a complete failure.
“Why is the actual message like this? My excitement just died. The very first line is ‘Even a dung beetle knows how to roll’? Is that something a father says to his son?”
Was giving proper praise that difficult? Would it have killed him to just say “Good work” and leave it at that?
Personally, it was becoming clearer and clearer.
If the person who had set the fundamental character of “Lee Shin” was the Lee Shin standing here, then the one who had turned that human being into a complete degenerate was undoubtedly Lee Young-bin.
“Well, there’s no need to read the rest.”
It was only one page. That was the maximum amount of sincerity he was willing to entertain.
To summarize briefly, it was full of backhanded compliments like “Not bad, huh?”, “You could do it, so why didn’t you?”, and “Are you messing with me?”
Having zero interest in listening to the complaints of a fully grown adult, Lee Shin whistled cheerfully, carefully folded the letter, and stuffed it deep into a drawer.
If Lee Young-bin had seen that, he would have blown a blood vessel and thrown a fit, screaming that his sincerity was being ignored.
If that’s what you think, then yes. You’re correct. It is being ignored.
“It’s not like anyone held a knife to his throat and forced him to write it, yet he made it so painfully obvious that he was doing it against his will.”
If he had at least written it with some grace, Lee Shin would have been willing to reply. What a shame. Father, you missed your chance.
Brushing off the lingering annoyance, he unfolded the paper that had been enclosed with the letter. It was a standard A4 sheet with a familiar default font, completely different from the fancy letter paper.
It was the list of gifts Lee Young-bin was giving him.
If this had been reflected by the system, wouldn’t it have shown up something like this?
Lee Young-bin’s trust has increased slightly.
All debts owed to Lee Young-bin have been forgiven.
Support funds from Lee Young-bin have increased by 5 times.
“Whoa~! That’s incredible.”
A deep sigh of satisfaction rose from the pit of his stomach.
This was what it meant to be a chaebol! This was Wealth 100!!
“Five times would be roughly 100 billion won. It’s pocket change at the major league level, but for League 3 it’s more than enough.”
League 4 wasn’t even on his radar anymore. In Lee Shin’s mind, the Mir Guild’s promotion was already a foregone conclusion.
The only problem was that the amount felt a little tight for Lee Shin, who planned to start throwing money around in earnest once they reached League 3.
“I’m sure another bonus will come when the time is right.”
The first time is always the hardest. The second time is easy.
If he had opened his wallet this generously just because he was moved by this level of success, then when Lee Shin promoted with an overwhelming, unprecedented record, the man would surely give something even bigger just to protect his own pride.
Right. How much would he give?
He was so excited that the corners of his mouth had already risen all the way to his ears.
“I’ll be counting on your continued support. Hehehe.”
That wrapped up the first wave of excitement.
Now, riding that momentum, it was time for the second wave.
Lee Shin spun his chair around, leaned all the way back, and gazed at the sky beyond the window.
The gloomy sky had grown even darker, pouring down thicker raindrops, but Lee Shin’s eyes weren’t following the rain.
Forty-five degrees into the air.
The message window that proudly declared, “Hello? I’m your reward!”
His gaze was locked onto it.
“It’s here. The big one’s here.”
As a named veteran player, Lee Shin already knew exactly what achievement this reward was tied to.
“Originally, the reward for the ‘Season Ticket Holders: 300,000’ achievement was ‘Lucky Seven.’”
Lucky Seven.
It was an “Honor” that slightly increased the manager’s Luck stat while inside the guild.
Because of the vague “slight” increase and the restriction of only working inside the guild, it was generally considered trash-tier Honor.
However.
“If you achieve it in League 4, the story changes completely.”
The GM was famous for its god-tier balance. It gave modest rewards for easy achievements, but for difficult ones, it handed out correspondingly excellent rewards.
300,000 season ticket holders in League 4.
In real-world terms, it was like a Third Division soccer team completely filling the 66,000 seats of the Seoul World Cup Stadium.
An absurd, impossible feat.
But Lee Shin had accomplished that impossible task, and the reward had been upgraded accordingly.
Like this.
Season Ticket Holders: 300,000
◈ League 4 Overachievement Bonus: +1000p
◈ 2 Million Subscribers: +300p
◈ 500,000 Fan Cafe Members: +300p
…
Total Points Acquired: 4000p
※ You have exceeded the achievement requirements. Due to the overachievement, the original reward “Lucky Seven” has been upgraded.
※ You have received “Triple Seven: 777” as your reward.
Triple Seven: 777
An evolved form of Lucky Seven.
Luck, which previously applied only to the manager, now applies to all guild members.
The “slight” increase in Luck has been upgraded to a “massive” increase.
A hidden Honor.
“Haaah… I got it faster than I expected. My special seasoning to help with my dynamic gameplay.”
Luck.
The most ambiguous stat in GM.
Unlike intuitive stats like strength or agility, Luck was the kind of thing that could be interpreted however one wanted. Even outside of GM, it was the stat with the most conflicting interpretations across games.
It could mean picking up a 100 won coin on the street, or, at the extreme, winning the lottery jackpot.
There was no way to know when, how, or in what form it would activate. It was simply too vague.
“At the extreme, if the user can’t handle it, it can even turn into misfortune.”
Because of that, some players deliberately minimized any Honors or items related to Luck.
Despite that public opinion, Lee Shin evaluated Luck highly.
If you could predict it, was it really luck? That was just skill.
In the end, Luck was a variable, and a variable could become the final puzzle piece that completed a masterpiece depending on how you used it.
“Very attractive.”
And there was one more thing. This Honor had a single Easter egg hidden inside…
Exactly once, right after acquisition, a surge of Luck would directly trigger a special event.
“Alright! What’s going to happen? A treasure map? Will an SSS-class Hunter walk in on their own two feet?”
A dedicated weapon event would be nice. A point bonus would be nice too.
Whatever, anything was fine. Just give me something good.
Lee Shin stared at the clock with a pounding heart, like a child digging through a Christmas stocking.
And the Luck that finally arrived was—
“Representative! The fan club is rioting!!”
…Oh, fuck?