A Different World
Busan’s Yeongdo.
The sprawling demolition site of the Yongwanggung project.
Demolition team leader Choi Yong-su, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, waved his arms frantically.
“Hey, hey! Yeah, you! The rebar goes over there, not there! Rocks to that side! Kid, what the hell are you doing holding a trash bag? What? Picking up garbage? Goddammit! Whew… Just pile it up for now. We’ll handle the whole lot at once later. Got it?”
What had originally been planned as the demolition of an old industrial zone had suddenly expanded, turning the site into a whirlwind of activity with no time to breathe.
The project expansion had been announced only last night, and the method of announcement had been spectacular in its own way.
‘What was it again? Oh, right. The finger.’
Lee Shin had casually pointed at the residential area and said, “Clear everything from here to there.”
At the time, Choi Yong-su had thought the man was insane. He wasn’t the only one. Every demolition team leader had either burst into hollow laughter or twirled a finger beside their head, treating Lee Shin like a lunatic.
It made sense. Demolition might look like random smashing to the untrained eye, but it was a job that required considerable technical skill.
Yet the area Lee Shin’s finger had indicated was the steep uphill road locals called “High Rock Path,” lined with houses.
Winding, dizzying alleys. Empty slopes. Shacks. Dilapidated homes. Three-story villas. And so on.
At minimum, you needed one excavator and one truck to work efficiently, but no matter how you looked at it, there wasn’t even enough space for that.
Because of these geographical characteristics, demolition contractors ranked High Rock Path among their most avoided sites.
So the most veteran among them, Choi Yong-su, had stepped up to explain the difficulties, only to receive this reply:
“Why would we bring in heavy machinery? We can do it by hand!”
Oh! Such a simple solution!
…As if he could have known.
He had thought the man was crazy, but this was next-level deranged.
By hand? Did he think demolition was a children’s game?
Just take it apart and stuff the pieces into a toy box?
It was utter nonsense. The generous pay that had initially improved his impression of the job had nearly collapsed in a single moment.
Of course, to get to the conclusion first, Lee Shin did have a plan.
The plan came in the form of the grim-faced workers who arrived with his explanation. (They absolutely did not look like ordinary workers.)
“We have excellent… labor here. With them, heavy equipment won’t be necessary at all. I guarantee it.”
It sounded like he had slipped in a word that shouldn’t have been said, but the demolition team leaders were soon left stunned as they watched the newcomers work.
They were Awakeners. Every single one of them. In industry terms, “special” personnel.
Not every Awakener became a Hunter. In fact, when looking purely at the numbers, far more Awakeners failed to become Hunters.
Some ignored their powers and lived ordinary lives, but quite a few used their abilities in practical ways.
In those cases, the terms “special” or “magic” were usually attached.
For physical-type Awakeners, each one was essentially a mini excavator and a mini breaker. And when four hundred of them were deployed at once… what would happen?
Choi Yong-su was currently staring at the answer.
“This is insane.”
In just four days, they had crushed every target.
They had no technique beyond using magic power and their hands were clumsy, but they perfectly proved the saying that when you’re strong enough, your head gets to take it easy.
Just lift, clear, carry, and stack.
When that simple set of actions ran twenty-four hours a day, the city quickly revealed its pale bare skin.
Then, when the demolition was about halfway done, half of the four hundred suddenly started paving roads and erecting rebar.
One side destroying, the other side building. It was a sight that defied common sense.
What made it even more absurd was that, at the same time, on the other side of the water, Korea’s largest stadium was being built. Also running twenty-four hours straight!
One of the other team leaders had summed up the ridiculous scene like this:
“That guy lives in a completely different world from us. Just the noise-blocking magic arrays for a project this size would cost tens of billions. And he’s mobilizing this many people and this much equipment on top of it? He really has thrown any thought of making money to the dogs.”
The team leader had called it “block play.” The kind of block play where you could build and destroy whatever you wanted, exactly as your heart desired.
He wasn’t wrong. In Choi Yong-su’s thirty years in construction, he had never seen a site this bizarre.
It was his first time seeing a stadium built entirely from one man’s own pocket without a single bank loan. His first time seeing a man with full authority willingly give up profit for the sake of his dream…
Abnormal, and yet somehow ideal.
“Still…”
Choi Yong-su sat sprawled against a random stone wall, chewing on the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear, and quietly looked around.
The outdated buildings had been replaced by sleek new ones. The winding, chaotic paths that even an excavator could barely navigate had been transformed into wide, open boulevards that felt refreshingly clear.
And beyond the boulevard stood the stadium.
A colossal structure so grand it made you wonder if this was what the “palace where the Dragon King lives” would actually look like. It radiated presence in every direction.
“If it’s block play like this, I’ll admit it’s pretty damn impressive.”
Time flew by.
* * *
On the road, the Rolls-Royce once again radiated overwhelming presence as Lee Shin reviewed documents in the back seat.
With his long legs crossed and a serious expression as he twirled a ballpoint pen, Lee Shin looked stunning enough to draw gasps today as well. But the heavy dark circles under his eyes made the word “atmosphere” vanish completely.
It was hard to remember the last time he had lain down to sleep.
They said you slept when you died, but at this rate he might not even get to do that…?
“If I have to build this stadium twice, I’ll lose my damn mind.”
As expected, nothing in the world was easy. Even building one stadium created a mountain of tasks.
The only saving grace was that the most important issue—funding—was completely free. That was the only reason he could drag things forward like this. If he had tried to do it normally from bare ground, it would have been pure hell. Lee Shin shuddered at the thought.
“Haaaam~”
Lee Shin yawned as he signed the documents.
Was that the end? He glanced sideways. The stack of papers sitting in the seat beside him seemed to greet him with a cheerful “Hello♡?”
…He wanted to kick a dog.
Ignore it. Look away. We all saw nothing. That’s what happened.
Having just finished his work(?), Lee Shin leaned back against the plush rear seat of the Rolls-Royce and stretched.
“Hng~ Sorry, but could you turn the volume up? Can’t reach it from here.”
Yun Cho-a, who was driving, raised the volume. The raid progress that had been playing silently on the rear screen regained its sound.
The Mir Guild charging forward without the slightest retreat against a rampaging boss.
Once they took this one down, the Mir Guild would shatter every record in Round 82 and write a legendary period. At the same time, they would begin writing yet another legend…
“It’s going to be noisy as hell.”
An impatient expert had already begun praising the Mir Guild’s overwhelming season and summarized it like this:
— “Is… is it really over already…?”
— “The attack landed perfectly. No movement detected… But are we seriously ending the raid like this…? Is it truly finished?”
— “Gulp…!”
— “It’s… it’s over!! No life signs detected! Gate clear!!”
— “Damn it, I believed! I believed in you!!”
— “Once again, it’s Lee Shin’s Children! Park Su-bin held the boss down while Yu Ri-ra delivered the finishing blow! The Mir Guild has cleared the 44th round gate, ‘Red Flag Orc Legion’!!”
— “Sob sob sob, this is too incredible. Lee Shin is a legend. We are living in the era of the Mir Guild. Sob sob…”
— “1st in overall standings, 1st in total points, zero losses in the 22-round team competition, zero missed records in the 22-round strategy competition, complete monopoly of the 44-round MVP, and an unprecedented, never-before-seen legend of 72 total rounds of new records from League 4 to League 3. The Mir Guild has now confirmed its promotion to League 2!!”
The moment the tearful shouting rang out from the screen, Lee Shin’s phone began ringing like crazy.
Congratulatory messages from every saved contact flooded the device.
“It’s over. Whew~!”
“Good work.”
“You worked hard too. Looking forward to next year as well.”
As they entered Yeongdo, something caught his eye.
Flags and banners hanging from the very start of the bridge.
·
·
From the bridge all the way to the site, the entire city was plastered with congratulatory messages.
“Aish, I told them not to do this.”
The match had ended less than twenty minutes ago, yet these were already hanging. It meant they had been waiting on the bridge, watching the game, and hung them the instant the boss fell.
Really, their fans were just too cute.
A warm smile formed on Lee Shin’s lips.
It was then that Yun Cho-a spoke.
“Representative, they say the observatory was just completed.”
“Oh? Already?”
“We’ll head there immediately.”
“Please do.”
When the light changed and the car turned, a beautifully designed boulevard unfolded before them.
Ornate streetlights and flower beds dividing the center. A refreshing plaza. Sleek, stylish buildings lining both sides of the avenue.
Lee Shin’s own creation, Mir City (temporary name), was spreading out before their eyes.
By limiting the floor area ratio and unifying everything to two stories, the refreshing sense of openness struck the chest. He had given up hundreds of billions in rental revenue for this openness, but to Lee Shin, coolness mattered more than that kind of money.
“Even though it’s the off-season, quite a few places have already opened?”
“It’s not just quite a few. As of yesterday, all leases are complete.”
“Huh… really?”
He had assumed there would be many vacancies since the stadium wasn’t finished yet, but what was this? Far from vacancies, premium offers were pouring in. The flood of lease inquiries was enough to paralyze the guild.
“That’s a relief. Guess we built it pretty well.”
“It’s excellent.”
While the stadium ‘Yongwanggung’ watched from the far end of the wide boulevard, the car had already stopped in front of the observatory.
“It really is all finished.”
The observatory was designed to look like a dragon coiling upward.
Lee Shin had decided that rather than erecting useless sculptures or statues, it would be better to spend a little more and build something practical. Thus, the observatory was created.
“Up we go.”
When he rode the elevator up, Lee Shin couldn’t help but let out a gasp.
It was the sky. A piercingly blue sky embraced him.
Through the glass walls, a blue sea on one side, the green of walking paths on another, and directly ahead, the massive stadium.
It was perfect. It was magnificent.
He never thought the day would come when he would see this in reality!
Overwhelmed with emotion, Lee Shin clapped like a seal.
“Wow! It’s incredible, right?”
“…It’s wonderful.”
Even Yun Cho-a, who rarely showed emotion, had slightly moist eyes at the spectacular view.
“I was right to build it after all.”
It was obvious, but the game GM had no city development content like this.
As a nurturing simulation, GM had filled its volume with hunter training and management as befitting its genre. Most of the realism it boasted appeared in that area.
Cities were naturally not included. At best, investing money would end with a single line of text: 【The surrounding environment has improved slightly.】
It did not support an interface like SimCity.
Nevertheless, Lee Shin had always considered various situations and agonized over them. After all, Teacher Lee had always been sincere about the meta question of how to make the guild develop further!
And… he had done it.
Content that didn’t exist in the game, things he had only simulated inside his head—he had created them himself and even produced results!
To think he had realized content that wasn’t in GM with his own two hands.
Lee Shin found the cityscape he had created so lovable he could hardly stand it.
“Look, over there. We’ll build a hotel on the seaside where the ocean is clearly visible. And over there, a department store. Then on that side, a multiplex and a club.”
“Are you planning to create a downtown area?”
“More precisely, to draw people’s footsteps here.”
A hundred-thousand-seat stadium was only the beginning.
Capturing their footsteps would change these streets, revitalize this cityscape, and ultimately dye the entire city brilliantly.
In the colors of the Mir Guild!
That was one of the paths toward the ultimate guild he had envisioned.
But it was then.
While Lee Shin was pressing his forehead against the glass wall, the elevator doors opened and a man appeared.
“That’s quite the idea. It’s hard to believe it came from your head.”
Small stature, stout build. A round face and burning eyes.
The man who held the largest market share in Korea’s automobile industry with Ido Motors, and who also possessed Ido Construction, the top contractor in the country.
The man who resembled Lee Sang-byuk the most in appearance was named Lee Chan-bin.
He was the second son of Chairman Lee Sang-byuk.
Of course.
“It’s been a while.”
“Who are you?”