Successful Enhancement and the Random Gamble

"Brother. Lemon tea."

At that moment, Yu-ri—who must have gotten out of school early and was already home—came over with a bright smile, carrying a tray. Tae-sung smiled faintly and accepted it with gratitude.

"Do you need some allowance?"

"Was it that obvious?"

Tae-sung lightly pinched the cheek of his giggling younger sister and nodded.

"Art classes must cost quite a bit, after all."

Even though he said that, the money spent on art would likely have been covered by Han-sung or Yeon-sung, so she wouldn't have felt any real burden.

It was probably money needed for social relationships. Or perhaps she wanted to spend it on various feminine accessories and makeup. But since he wasn't short on cash, he had no desire to be stingy about his sister's allowance.

"Send me your account number. I'll transfer it later."

"Big brother is the best!"

Suddenly, an indignant shout came from the second son's room.

He didn't come out, though.

While drinking the lemon tea and eating the slice of cake Yu-ri had brought, Tae-sung browsed the internet. At some point, a faint noise began to ring in his ears. It was the sound of a helicopter approaching from afar. It wasn't simply passing overhead—it grew steadily louder.

Then his phone rang.

"This is Kang Tae-sung."

"This is delivery. The address... is that correct?"

"Yes. The address is correct."

"Are you home right now?"

"I am."

"Ah. Then please step out into the yard."

"......?"

Wondering if it had already arrived, he checked the clock. Less than an hour had passed. It seemed strange.

Suspecting what the sound might mean, he went outside. A helicopter that had approached from a distance was now hovering directly above the house.

A person with a backpack rappelled down into the yard. Looking at Tae-sung, the man pulled something from his chest. It was a tablet PC. After carefully verifying the orderer's personal details and photo displayed on it, he asked for a fingerprint scan using a separate device.

"You deliver by helicopter?"

"Ah. This must be your first purchase. Our company strives to provide faster and safer delivery than anyone else..."

The delivery man recited what sounded like a memorized corporate line, then opened the aluminum case from his backpack. Inside were ten skill books, each individually wrapped in bubble wrap. He handed them over.

"Please verify them here. We get false claims sometimes... I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine."

When Tae-sung touched the skill books to confirm, the system recognized them all as genuine. Cases of fraud—where only the cover was swapped—apparently happened often in personal trades. But this wasn't a personal transaction, and it wasn't a scam.

Thinking about it, the man was doing a rather dangerous job. A non-awakened delivering goods worth tens or hundreds of billions.

"Thank you for your hard work."

Tae-sung took one of the remaining gold coins from his inventory and handed it over.

The delivery man refused several times before glancing around and discreetly accepting it. He expressed tremendous gratitude. He looked about forty. He probably had a couple of children at home.

The delivery man returned to the helicopter waiting overhead, and the aircraft quickly disappeared into the distance just as it had come. Tae-sung gathered the ten skill books, went inside, and headed to his room.

"First, activate one."

Learning a skill was simple. Touching the skill book brought up a confirmation window asking if you wanted to learn it. Accepting made the book disappear and added the skill fully to the user.

If the system had a vulnerability, it was the scams that occurred in personal transactions.

People would cover the skill book's title with a different name and block proper verification by claiming things like "What if you accidentally learn it the moment you touch it?" Then they took the money and ran. It happened often.

Of course, the reverse sometimes occurred too—buyers who touched it first out of suspicion and ended up learning it anyway. Some said it rarely happened if the seller stayed alert, because once someone had already made contact, you could see the title but the learning confirmation window wouldn't appear.

Forced learning usually happened when the seller let their guard down and wasn't holding the book properly. The buyer would snatch it, establish sole contact, and learn it.

Some people used that to argue the seller had been negligent too. Of course, that often sparked forum wars with those who defended ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the thief.

In that regard, the Hunter Market's position was quite cunning. Since both sellers and buyers dealt with a corporation rather than each other, it was considered far more trustworthy than direct trades. Using that trust ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as a weapon, the Hunter Market bought low and sold high for profit.

"Hmm."

Having consumed one skill book, Tae-sung began enhancing the skill further. He knew each enhancement required an identical skill book plus a 100-point fee, which was why he had bought ten copies of the same book.

When he opened the enhancement window, the success probability for the next step was displayed below. 100 percent. It seemed the first stage was guaranteed to succeed.

"One. Two. Three..."

He naturally succeeded the first enhancement and continued without pause. The success rate for going from 1 to 2 was 95 percent. For 3 it was 90 percent... It appeared the probability decreased by 5 percent with each additional stage.

He succeeded all the way to stage 4. At least the fee remained a flat 100 points, so it wasn't too burdensome. Still, when he thought about how much 100 points would be worth in cash, it sent a slight chill down his spine.

The success rate for enhancing from stage 4 to 5 was 80 percent.

'It should still be fine.'

Although he had gone consecutively up to stage 4, he found himself growing cautious afterward. Caution didn't raise the odds, but human psychology was hard to fight.

After successfully reaching stages 5, 6, and 7, Tae-sung paused when he saw the success rate for stage 8 listed at 65 percent. Somehow 70 percent and 65 percent felt very different.

But he went for it anyway, and it became stage 8.

Looking at the one remaining skill book, Tae-sung raised both hands slightly.

"Let's stop here."

He had a feeling that at least one of the remaining two attempts would fail. Or maybe both would. Sixty percent was basically a coin flip.

So he gave up on further enhancement and passed the last book to his siblings. When he told them to take it if they needed it, he saw the second son subtly hand it to the youngest.

"Wasn't this ridiculously expensive?"

"Yeah. Skill books are consumables, so their rarity value is really high..."

The reason prices skyrocketed even for somewhat useful skill books was simple market logic—demand set the price.

Those prices existed because there were people willing to pay them. And the ones who could afford it were naturally the existing wealthy or their children, people who could earn plenty without hunting and in fact already held even more money.

To them, awakening, hunting, expensive gear, and skills were basically a hobby.

The ordinary awakened rolling in the dirt with monsters at the bottom—or the awakening hopefuls who flattered hunters every day just to beg for a spot in their parties—were keenly realizing a simple truth: even though the world had changed, money had not.

They vented on anonymous boards and various communities, but they couldn't deny that expensive skill books or magic tomes dropped from hunts, or the jackpot skills that sometimes appeared in random skill books bought after getting drunk and pooling every point, were only considered jackpots because of those big spenders.

"Hmm. Eight."

Back in his room, Tae-sung confirmed the +8 attached to his Mana Recovery Reinforcement skill and nodded. The base rate of 5 percent plus 5 percent per additional stage gave a total reinforcement rate of 45 percent.

Now that it had actually reached 45 percent, the difference from when he didn't have the skill was unmistakable. He deliberately expelled a fixed amount of mana slowly from his body, then measured the recovery speed. It didn't take long to feel the gap. He nodded.

'But.'

The ten skill books had cost a staggering 9.95 billion won.

Money no longer felt like money. It was just numbers moving in and out of his account.

Even so, Tae-sung's purchases weren't finished yet.

After searching the internet a little more, he looked for skill books related to increasing maximum mana rather than recovery rate. Sure enough, they existed.

"This one's even more expensive."

1.5 billion per book. Between 600 and 700 points if bought that way.

"It would feel good if something like this dropped while hunting."

Even split ten ways, 1.5 billion became 150 million each... He was slightly curious who would buy it, but everyone had their reasons.

Still, 1.5 billion per book felt excessive no matter how he looked at it.

Even at 600 to 700 points...

"Random skill books are only 50 points each."

That was the price of twelve to fourteen random books.

Thinking that way, he started to feel that buying random skill books and scratching them might actually be better. With ten books, there was that lingering hope that maybe something good would come out.

Even if he didn't get the skill he wanted, other expensive skill books existed. If one of those appeared, he could at least break even.

'They say skill books are expensive because points themselves are expensive.'

Glancing at the random skill books, Tae-sung eventually closed his eyes tight and bought ten. He stared quietly at the ten unscratched books scattered across the bed, then took a gold coin from his inventory.

Creating a baseless superstition that scratching them with gold might improve his luck, he knelt in front of the bed. With a reverent heart, he carefully scratched each one, over and over.

But after finishing all ten, the only thing that emerged was a deep sigh.

"I don't know all the prices exactly... but I think I got screwed."

He didn't know every skill book yet, nor was he familiar with all the market rates, so the titles didn't immediately tell him their value. But from what he could tell at a glance, the feeling that he had failed was unavoidable.

Tae-sung went through the names again one by one and sorted them roughly by type. The fact that sorting was possible meant duplicates had appeared.

Targeting Level 1 — 3 books

Critical Hit Probability Increase Level 1 — 2 books

Mana Arrow Skill — 1 book

Dagger Mastery — 1 book

Shovel Mastery — 1 book

25 Point Exchange Book — 1 book

Tracking Skill Level 1 — 1 book

"......"

After properly sorting and checking again, the certainty that he had failed grew stronger.

With a slightly bitter expression, Tae-sung brought over his tablet and searched the current prices.

"Targeting Level 1... 30 million won."

A loss.

"Critical hit... this one, hmm."

The Critical Hit Probability Increase skill was a passive that gave a chance for attacks to deal double the normal damage—or up to five times if lucky. Without it, the concept of critical hits didn't even exist.

Level 1 gave a 2.5 percent chance.

Out of a hundred hits, two or three might land as devastating blows if lucky. It apparently had a decent demand base; the market price was set at 100 million won.

Personal trades would have slight differences between buy and sell prices, but the figures Tae-sung was checking were the Hunter Market's purchase prices. Since he planned to sell to a company anyway, he used those as his baseline.

"Mana Arrow, huh."

The one he had set aside because it reminded him of his youngest the moment he saw it was a skill that consumed a set amount of mana to create intangible arrows. However, it came with the note that it could only be fired from a bow with at least 20 percent mana synchronization. By itself, it couldn't be shot or thrown.

As expected, the market price was 100 million. Further searching showed that while it could serve as a last resort when arrows ran out, most opinions said it couldn't fully replace physical arrows in normal hunting. You usually ran out of mana after only a few shots.

"I'll learn the masteries."

Mastery skills were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠passives that raised proficiency faster when using the corresponding weapon. They were single-book growth-type skills with no enhancement stages, so he could learn them without much burden.

The current market price for Dagger Mastery was 50 million won.

Shovel Mastery was 5 million won. One-tenth the price.

"Why a shovel..."

Hammer Mastery would have applied to related weapons too and commanded a higher price, but a shovel seemed utterly useless.

The 5 million won price seemed to be the absolute floor they could sell it for. The resale price after purchase appeared to be around 10 million won, but there had only been six transactions in the past year. Unless someone was collecting skills, there was no reason to pay that much.

The book called a 25 Point Exchange Ticket was literally a dud—a book that could be traded for 25 points from the system. Paying 50 to receive 25.

It seemed there were exchange books for even higher amounts. There were posts arguing over whether a screenshot of a 500-point exchange book was edited.

"Tracking skill, huh."

The last one, Tracking Skill Level 1, consumed mana for a limited time to mark specific targets within range in the user's field of view.

It drained mana while active and would automatically cancel if mana ran out or if the target moved beyond the skill's limit distance.

Level 1 had a limit of 50 meters.

The market price was 50 million won, with low trading volume.

"It's not completely ruined, at least. But it's definitely a loss."

Having three copies of 100-million-won skill books across two different types helped soften the blow, but overall the total value was a little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠under 500 million won. On the other hand, selling the 500 points for cash would bring in 750 million to as much as 900 million at current rates.

It was a clear loss.

The mindset that buying more might yield something better was exactly the kind that emptied people's fortunes at casinos. Tae-sung vowed that unless he had points to spare, he would never look at random skill books again.