Street Market Windfall in Smell
The artisan city of Smell was packed with countless shops. It truly lived up to its reputation—every high-level item you could imagine was for sale there, crafted by artisans of every stripe. Even more goods changed hands at street stalls. Artisans hawked their own creations at fair prices, but master craftsmen often disguised themselves, tossing out items like it was a game, half-gifting them to anyone sharp enough to spot their true value. Plenty more set up stalls to offload their master's heirlooms or family treasures just to scrape together funds for their next project. Sure, some knew exactly what they were selling, but most dumped them in a panic for quick cash, clueless about the item's purpose or real worth. And that's precisely what Vulcan was hunting.
"Gonna go broke, totally broke. Heh heh heh!!!"
Plenty of others besides Vulcan prowled the stalls for those lottery-ticket finds. Big scores weren't rare, so folks scraped together cash like it was scratch-off tickets and flocked here. That's why so many items had already flown off the shelves, their true values exposed—but there was still plenty to snag. Vulcan focused on unappraised stuff, items undervalued because no one knew their real use, or sealed ones that revealed their power only under special conditions. He'd raked in so many that his pockets were empty, but he grinned ear to ear.
"Dodged a bullet there. Gotta be careful. Heh heh!"
He'd lost his head for a moment, blowing past his budget—even dipping into money he shouldn't touch. But luckily, one of his hauls was a "secret vault" hiding gold coins and gems. It looked like mere decoration on the outside, but inside were stacks of gold and decent jewels. He flipped it quick, refilling his coffers. Sure, he nearly blew that too in another frenzy, but sheer willpower held him back—he cashed it out fast. He had too many irons in the fire; he needed in-game cash, but real-world money mattered just as much.
"I'll step out for a bit."
- Taking a break?
"Might take longer than that. Like I mentioned before, got something important to handle."
- Eh, no rush jobs right now. Fine by me. At least stock up on plenty of chocolate before you go.
And he had immediate expenses piling up. He could've scraped by with his savings, but the little costs added up, so he pooled every spare coin and converted it all. Then he got Tud's blessing—Tud magnanimously agreed, as long as Vulcan left behind a mountain of chocolate.
It was a bit odd that Tud stuck around in Smell after Vulcan logged out, but the little guy was weird from the start anyway.
Vulcan finished prepping, stripped hidden options from a few stall finds and listed them at auction, then logged out of Gloria Saga for a spell.
"Boss, all done. Take a look, make sure everything's good."
"Thanks for the hard work. Looks like it all came through fine."
Kwon Young-min, known as Vulcan in Gloria Saga, emerged not into his old studio but a fresh 24-pyeong three-room apartment, gazing around with a swell of emotion. He'd poured his savings into a jeonse lease for this upgrade. He didn't have much stuff, so one moving van did the trick—but the new furnishings outnumbered his old gear, so he checked everything meticulously and assigned spots.
One room for the bed, one for the capsule, one small closet. A cozy living room and kitchen—not huge, but livable. His personal space was just the small room, but he had zero complaints. All he wanted was for his new roommate to feel right at home.
"Alright, time to head out."
With rough unpacking done, he stepped back out. Destination: Korea University Hospital.
He settled the bill, wrapped up discharge, and headed to a room with a spring in his step.
"Uncle!"
"Hey, Hye-rim. Just finished discharge—think you can make it? We could rest more if needed."
"I'm good. I can walk."
The hospital door swung open to reveal a bright-eyed teenage girl beaming at him. She should've been at school, giggling with friends over chit-chat—a normal nineteen-year-old. But life had other plans.
"Alright, no pushing yourself. Speak up if it hurts."
She called him uncle despite the modest age gap, though they weren't blood. Still, Young-min's eyes brimmed with affection. She was his brother's daughter, after all.
Orphaned and street-raised, Young-min had been on a crooked path until her father straightened him out, taught him to live like a human. When they met, the man was already pushing thirty—too old for "bro," but every street kid called him that. He treated them like family, sharing his meager meals, giving them a roof, even scraping together basics for school.
Guy's got it rough, but doesn't show it.
But the cold world didn't reward kindness. His devoted wife—never once complaining about his generosity—died of illness. Then their young daughter fell sick too.
Tumors sprouted throughout her blood vessels. Not cancer, but they clogged the flow, starving her body of blood. She collapsed often, couldn't walk more than a few steps without surgery.
To treat her, her father worked himself to the bone. Young-min, carving a niche in Gloria Saga, couldn't visit much but wired money for treatments now and then. Brother always refused, but Young-min begged until he relented.
Then tragedy: hit-and-run while delivering. Young-min should've checked more, helped sooner. At the funeral, he sobbed for three days straight, drowning in guilt.
His own life was crumbling—betrayed by trusted guildmates, fallen from glory, revenge burning through his in-game fortune. Rage at the world changed nothing. Reality just hit harder.
His brother's girl—calling him uncle, riddled with tumors—couldn't even attend the funeral, still bedridden. He couldn't save her dad, but he'd save her. He liquidated everything, even his prized gear, keeping only junk like the berserker's longsword. Converted it all to cash for surgery and bills, then grinded any job that paid—gatherer, whatever.
Food for himself? Cut back. Hospital fees were brutal. But he'd clawed through, reaping the reward.
Almost derailed by that forced class change, though.
"I'm fine, really. Way better now. See? No pain at all. I can carry stuff too."
"No straining—gimme that. Can't have you lifting heavy; your dad would whoop me later. You ever get hit? One smack from those pot-lid hands, and you're sore for three days."
"Pfft. Dad's sweet. Never hits anyone."
It wasn't enough, though. They'd removed most tumors, but her stamina issues and one stubborn growth near her heart meant no full cure. Long walks or exertion were still out. Basic living was doable, but normal life demanded that last surgery.
No guarantees, though—docs pegged survival at 40-50%. Too risky now; she'd convalesce at home first, decide later.
She knew it all, yet smiled radiantly— even joking about her dad.
Not denial, but fond remembrance. Her father had lived for her alone. Knowing that, Young-min treated her gently; she followed suit, beaming back.
"Alright, let's go? It'll be cramped, but bear with it. Uncle's gonna stack cash soon, move us to something bigger and better."
"It's fine. Big just means more cleaning. Our old place wasn't huge anyway. I don't move much—great at lounging and playing. Hehe."
Vulcan gave a bittersweet smile and shouldered the bags. He even splurged on a taxi—rare for him—and they headed home.
"Whoa, nice! You said small, but it's spacious."
"That's your room, that's mine, that's the closet—but I won't use it, so make it yours. Capsule's in there too—play if bored. Here's a smartphone and card, newly registered in your name. Buy what you need, fill the room."
"Thanks. But."
"?"
"Let's swap rooms. And the capsule. That's a new VR model, right? You're doing this full-time; I just dabble. Feels wrong. If not, no capsule for me—I'll stick to the living room."
"But..."
"You said use the closet? I like small rooms—cozy. Or I'll take the closet."
"...Fine. We'll swap. Next move, I'll deck out a big one proper."
"Looking forward to it."
Her sly smile left Young-min scratching his head in surrender. Just like her dad—sweet and considerate, but stubborn as hell once dug in. No choice; he agreed. Not much stuff anyway—swap was quick.
"Leave the rest to me. You do your thing. Call if stuck—press the button on the capsule?"
"Yeah. And call for anything, got it?"
"Yep. Don't worry. I need rest anyway."
Quick tour of the unfamiliar home, delivery dinner since nothing was prepped, then Hye-rim shooed him off as he pondered next steps. She got his urge to hover, but she wasn't a kid anymore. Knowing he sacrificed time for her, she grinned brighter, urging him on.
It lightened his heart enough to log back in as Vulcan.
- Back already? Perfect timing. Just as the fun show's starting.
"...Huh?"
Logging into Gloria Saga again, Vulcan was greeted by Tud's smirking mug. Following his gaze, he beheld an astonishing sight.