The Dragon on Life Support
One week.
The time Lee Shin had been granted by Lee Sang-byuk before the guild dispatch.
It should have been a frantic period of data analysis and plan verification, with no room to even blink. Yet somehow, Lee Shin found himself surprisingly relaxed.
“W-what… is all this?”
“It’s the guild work you always dreamed of, right? I’m counting on you.”
A truly skilled superior identifies his subordinate’s capabilities, places them in the right position, and draws out maximum performance. That was Lee Shin’s philosophy.
He knew Chae Dong-ha was a prepared genius. He had zero doubt the man could handle this much. Go for it, Dong-ha-mon!
And just as Lee Shin expected, Chae Dong-ha was efficiently handling every necessary task.
Of course, that didn’t mean Lee Shin was simply lounging around.
While he wasn’t physically busy, he had taken on work that was, in some ways, far more important and exhausting: securing funds or fielding investment offers.
“You break your probation without so much as a word to me… ignore the proper reporting chain and negotiate directly with the chairman… do whatever the hell you want, and now you come asking me for investment?”
“That’s probably how it went, yeah?”
“Are you on drugs again?”
The money he had been promised by Chairman Lee Sang-byuk was more than enough, but there was no such thing as too much capital. After a minor misunderstanding that led to a drug test, Lee Shin had a constructive conversation with the vice chairman—his father in this body, Lee Young-bin—and secured a rather generous investment.
Results were what mattered. The only downside was that he couldn’t prevent a supervisor from being assigned to him. He accepted it willingly. He even requested that they send someone competent.
After spending that short but fruitful week, the day had finally arrived.
The vehicle sped up along the highway.
Everyone was flooring the accelerator, desperate to arrive even a second sooner.
The RPM needles climbed higher.
Yet amid this fierce competition, there existed one noticeably relaxed space…
A vehicle whose very presence killed any desire to overtake it, acting as a living speed bump.
The Rolls-Royce Phantom that Lee Shin was riding in.
“Told you this was the right choice. Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis—none of that matters. Real men drive sedans. Right, Dong-ha hyung?”
“So this is what the top zero-point-one percent drives… The ride quality really is on another level. It feels like we’re gliding on ice.”
“Just wait until we get out. The exit experience is even better. Oh—! There’s a fridge in here too. Want a cola?”
“By the way, young master.”
“It’s Representative.”
“Ahem… Representative, you seem unusually hyped up today. This is your car, isn’t it? You’re acting like you’ve never been in it before.”
“Because I haven’t.”
It wasn’t just his memories that had been reset.
When Lee Shin had opened his eyes in this body, the previous owner had already cheerfully lost his license to a DUI. As a result, he could only stare longingly at the parking lot full of supercars he had never seen in his life.
“So make sure you thank that noona properly. She’s suffering because of you, hyung.”
“Wait… why are we suddenly bringing her up?”
“Because you don’t have a license!”
“I never said I wasn’t grateful. I’m truly thankful. Thanks to her, we’re traveling comfortably.”
Chae Dong-ha offered an awkward smile and expressed his gratitude to the woman gripping the steering wheel.
But there was no response. The woman didn’t even glance his way.
Chae Dong-ha scratched the side of his head in embarrassment. Lee Shin saw this and immediately seized the opportunity to tease him.
“Heh heh, look at that. You’re only talking to her because she’s pretty. I didn’t take you for the sly type, Dong-ha hyung.”
“N-no! What do you mean, sly? I was just being polite.”
“Sure, sure. But listen, as your little brother I feel obligated to warn you—don’t approach her lightly. That noona is way scarier than she looks.”
Lee Shin could see it clearly.
The ‘number’ floating above the woman’s head in the driver’s seat.
The fact that numbers and indicators appeared meant she was an awakener.
Indeed.
The woman was the supervisor assigned by the vice chairman.
Her role was to report Lee Shin’s every action to the vice chairman without personal opinion. Perhaps that was why she refused to exchange even a single word, completely cutting off any emotional interaction.
The corner of Lee Shin’s mouth curled up.
“The grandfather treats his grandson like a pawn on a chessboard, and the father plants a blade at his son’s throat. What a wonderful family dynamic. Don’t you think, hyung?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“You’re not even denying it.”
“Ahem…”
“Shall we end the chit-chat here? It’s giving me a headache.”
“Yeah…”
It was a rather harsh way of putting it, but Lee Shin wasn’t wrong.
If the vice chairman had planted a blade at his throat by assigning a supervisor, then Chairman Lee Sang-byuk was no different. In fact, he might have been even worse.
Who could have guessed he would embed him in this guild of all places?
Lee Shin smiled bitterly.
“That old man… I didn’t think he was the type to hold a grudge.”
Mir Guild.
A prestigious guild based in Busan.
Regardless of their current results, this guild was interesting in many ways.
First, it was one of the twenty founding guilds from the establishment of the Guild War Korea league sixty years ago—a true root-and-tradition powerhouse.
Second, in the very year it was founded, it claimed the first-ever championship, instantly turning Busan into the city of hunters.
History, tradition, and meaning. It possessed more than enough of the foundational elements a prestigious guild required.
However.
That was where the interesting part ended. That was it!
What did that mean? If you subtracted that glorious foundation of history, tradition, and meaning, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Didn’t you already know? It perfectly matched the conditions you mentioned when we first met.”
“Did I? What conditions?”
“I told you back then. A once-glorious local prestigious guild that has now fallen. Massive debt and a ruined talent pool.”
“That was as far as it went. Even I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”
It wasn’t just in decline. Who could have guessed it was a guild that should have been ‘disbanded’ by all rights?
Chae Dong-ha pulled out the materials he had prepared and began reading.
“…One league championship. That single title is their entire trophy case. They were relegated the very next season. After bouncing between League 2 and League 1, they suffered a shocking drop to League 3 on their fortieth anniversary. After more ups and downs, they’re currently in League 4.”
“Whistle~ That bottom line is brutal. I’d faint if I saw the chart.”
“You must have never traded stocks. At this rate of decline, they would have been delisted immediately.”
It was exactly as it appeared.
The Mir Guild’s performance had plummeted past the mantle and straight into the outer core. They were barely hanging on in the 4th Division.
Considering their history and tradition, the results were utterly disastrous. How could a guild fall apart this badly…?
The more he thought about it, the more displeased he became. Chae Dong-ha’s tone grew sharper by the sentence.
“After looking into it, their guild management is a complete joke. The main sponsor disappeared long ago, and even the minor sponsors they had left seem to have turned their backs.”
“What about funding? How are they even operating right now?”
“It seems to be mostly through broadcasting rights fees and season ticket sales, but that’s the strange part.”
Given the nature of the 4th Division, broadcasting rights fees couldn’t possibly be significant.
Broadcasting stations weren’t charities. There was no way they would contract to air the strategies of a measly 4th Division team.
That meant most of their revenue came from season tickets…
Which raised the same question. Who in their right mind would buy season tickets for a 4th Division guild?
“Yet people do buy them. The Mir Guild has an abnormally high season ticket purchase rate.”
“Heh heh, exactly. That’s the kicker.”
Honestly, the Mir Guild’s financial state was bad. The word ‘bad’ wasn’t even enough—it was utterly hopeless.
Yet no matter how you looked at it, the money coming in—the income itself—wasn’t nearly as hopeless.
Without any extreme merchandise sales or special business models, surviving for decades in this harsh league ecosystem was impossible without some kind of emergency ration to leech off of.
But even so, nothing ever improved. They were always starving.
Which meant—
“…There’s a ninety-nine percent chance that money is leaking somewhere in the middle.”
And that, in turn, meant—
“A clear lack of competence from the front office.”
“You’ve already reached that conclusion? Well, you’re not wrong.”
“Don’t you think so as well, Representative?”
“This is your turn to speak, hyung. It’s getting interesting. Keep going.”
Chae Dong-ha hesitated briefly at Lee Shin’s lukewarm attitude, but soon continued laying out his thoughts.
Even if their history and tradition seemed meaningless, they were still a significant advantage.
The social infrastructure they had built over sixty years—even if they couldn’t produce results—was an asset that couldn’t be bought with money.
If utilized properly, their finances would never have collapsed this desperately.
That was Chae Dong-ha’s assessment.
“If this isn’t a lack of front office competence, what is?”
“Oh~ You’re not wrong.”
“And that’s not all. Their personnel management is just as bad. It’s so terrible it’s hard to even talk about.”
What was funny was that this utterly incompetent front office was also needlessly bloated.
A 4th Division guild should tighten its belt like a 4th Division guild, right? Yet the Mir Guild’s front office was somehow maintaining the same scale it had during their League 2 days.
“They should be cutting that kind of expense and focusing on other areas. If they want results, reinforce the roster. If they’re venturing into business, reinvest! But look at this guild. Everything is half-assed. Recruiting, business ventures—everything. Is this even a guild?”
“Hand it over.”
Lee Shin snatched the documents from the agitated Chae Dong-ha and looked them over.
It was the list of affiliated hunters. Photos and basic information were attached, and a smile soon bloomed on his face.
These were all familiar faces.
He nodded.
This was definitely the Mir he knew. The ‘Dragon in the ICU.’
“What do you think of these guys?”
“You mean Raid Leader Yang Pan-seok and his raid team?”
“Yeah. I’m curious about your opinion, hyung.”
Though he had been worked up, Chae Dong-ha’s expression calmed slightly as he answered.
“They’re not at a high level. To be brutally honest, they’re below average? By the standards of their prime in their youth, they might be average or slightly above. Their skills have clearly declined with age. However, that’s by the standards of the average hunter. Considering this is League 4, they should be able to fulfill their roles adequately.”
“Even Yang Pan-seok?”
“I was just about to mention him. As a raid leader, Yang Pan-seok has a good reputation both in character and ability. The fact that he remained a guild legend when he could have easily aimed for a major team says a lot.”
“Oh? That’s high praise.”
“I learned this while investigating… He really is quite an attractive hunter. The fans didn’t call him a legend for nothing. He’s almost too good a person to be stuck in the Mir Guild.”
Therefore, Chae Dong-ha’s conclusion.
A raid team that had wasted its prime due to the incompetent front office’s blunders, and a guild headed for a downward spiral.
The golden time had already passed.
“To be honest, I don’t even understand how this guild is still alive.”
It was then.
Lee Shin, who had been quietly listening, smiled brightly.
“Want me to tell you?”
“…You know the reason?”
“Of course!”
Despite operating in a complete mess and having performance numbers buried deep in the abyss, the reason the Mir Guild still had a pulse was purely one thing.
“The fans.”
The ones attaching an oxygen respirator to the Dragon in the ICU were none other than the fans themselves.
It had been a full eight years.
Eight years without even catching a whiff of the 3rd Division.
At that point, making some kind of change was common sense, wasn’t it? Yet the front office idiots acted like they had pots on their shoulders and kept stubbornly holding on.
If that was their plan, they shouldn’t have made such a fuss every year before the league with nonsense like “This year will be different.”
Now, there was only one thing left for the Yongbung-i to believe in.
The man who never abandoned the falling Mir Guild and sacrificed his youth to protect it.
Mir’s guardian dragon and the guild’s living legend.
Yang Pan-seok.
The only person they could believe in was that man.
“What do you mean?! No roster reinforcement?!”