Chapter 107
Translator: penny
Chapter: 107
Chapter Title: Letter from Dreamland (2)
I stared at the monitor.
The man was visible, having bought booze with the gold nugget I'd given him.
Back at home, he was staring holes through the letter.
This guy's a fucking legend lololol
Buying booze right away with the gold nugget Newbie gave him? That's no ordinary deadbeat??
Is this the 'real' guy...?
I knew something was off from when he kicked that beggar kid collecting cans
At this level, even Ant Queen must feel the wall crashing down on her??
lol;;
I wouldn't stoop that low just to feel superior;;
Real life-quitters have a whole different vibe to their walk lololol
I thought the deadbeats who'd invaded dungeons so far were peak, but that's what real peak looks like...
Newbie-nim
What's the reason you targeted that guy...?
There are plenty of competent mages out there instead of trash like that...
His name was definitely Nordel, right?
He wasn't living a normal human life.
A real rice-waster, as they say.
The most rotten human I'd met in this world.
Just wanted to give him one chance at a fresh start?
Beep! Beep! Beepy-beepy!
Newbie lie radar detected!
What?
Love, what's this new gimmick?
As the foremost authority on Newbie psychology, this Deadbeat Love Dog dares to offer a word: If Newbie really wanted to help someone in tough straits, the odds are higher he'd pick a decent person over a guy like that!
My take? (adjusts glasses)
What if the jamming bomb gets sniffed out by some other clever intruder? If it leaks that there's an inside man tied to the 'Dungeon Master,' the guy could get wrecked just for building it. Slim chance, sure, but not zero—so Newbie picked trash on purpose!
Hm, not bad?
Reasonable suspicion.
Refute this and you'll end up with a minion like Ant Queen. Your move.
You fucking bitch
There are lines you cross and don't ㅅㅂ
Won't refute.
This is legit...
^^?
Well, whatever.
When people do things, intentions aren't singular.
My response to Magic Hero wasn't a lie.
I really planned to reward him if he followed the letter's instructions exactly this time—no anomalies or tricks involved.
So the letter's contents were true.
This was genuinely a chance for him to turn his life around.
"Malang, hang in there a bit longer."
-Urk.
Of course, whether he capitalized on it was up to him.
"Who the hell sent this to me?"
Nordel chugged from the bottle.
No matter how much he drank, drunkenness wouldn't come.
His mind was sharp, instead.
As clear as back when he'd earnestly studied magic.
"Mom and Dad... are long dead, and that bitch I split with last time... no way she'd give me this much cash. What the fuck?"
It'd been ages since his wallet felt thick.
Enough to last a week, maybe.
"Don't you feel like you're living a life where no matter your effort, there's no reward?"
"We're offering those people a chance to change their lives in paradise, the land of dreams and hope."
Paradise of dreams and hope—what was the angle?
No matter how he racked his brain, no answers, just frustration.
But one thing was clear.
The sender had given him money.
"Solve this problem correctly, and receive the prize."
Nordel pondered.
The puzzle was simple—magic-related.
Even a first-circle mage could crack it easily.
No reason not to try.
Money for nothing.
"Bring the correct answer to the promised location at the time listed below."
Of course, all this hinged on the letter being legit.
Could be a bust.
But Nordel needed cash.
At least a lot of it, to enjoy this dull, stale excuse for a life.
Let's go.
First, verify if it's real.
"This the place?"
The spot mentioned in the letter wasn't far from Roberta Barony.
Half a day's walk, and here he stood on the snow-blanketed plain.
"The tree with the X mark... there it is."
Crunch.
Crunch.
He trudged forward, leaving footprints.
He waited beneath the tree.
It was about time.
He was curious about the face of whoever sent him this weird letter.
Should see them soon.
What happened next, though, dashed his expectations.
The wind picked up.
Snowflakes swirled, blurring his vision.
That's when it happened.
Thud.
A gold bar, split clean in half, dropped from the sky.
"Wh-what the?"
Nordel gawked at the gold bar by his feet, utterly baffled.
How?
No mana signature.
Not magic, then.
He cast a detection spell.
Still nothing around.
Just him here.
"What in the world...?"
Chills ran down his spine.
Goosebumps prickled.
It was only natural.
Humans fear the incomprehensible.
"Did the God of Oblivion swing by or something...?"
Nordel picked up the halved gold bar.
Bit down—marks appeared. Pure gold.
His shock faded fast, replaced by glee.
The value of half a gold bar was immense.
Enough to coast for three years of lazing around.
"Hahaha."
Incredible luck.
He headed back to the territory with spring in his step.
He slept soundly for the first time in ages.
Plenty of money brought peace of mind.
In the mirror, his dark circles had lightened.
Dream? He glanced at the desk.
Half a gold bar sat there.
Not a dream.
Reality.
"Hahaha."
He laughed.
Mood sky-high, he hummed as he stepped outside.
"Hold up."
Before hitting the tavern, he checked the mailbox.
Another dingy letter waited inside.
His heart raced.
His hands shook holding it.
"This time, craft the item from this blueprint and claim your prize."
"Bring the item to the promised location at the time listed below."
Even a second-circle mage could tell.
This blueprint was flawless, like etched by the God of Magic himself.
"Jamming bomb, huh... Never seen one, but looks doable?"
Easy to build, too.
He knew instantly he could manage it at his skill level.
Materials pricey and scarce, sure.
But procurable from merchants.
And he had half a gold bar burning a hole in his pocket.
"Prize money..."
Was a god handing him opportunities?
Tougher than last time, but failing this would make him a moron.
Fantasies bloomed in Nordel's head.
Were these letters gonna keep coming?
Could he rake in cash without lifting a finger now?
Not like he'd etch his name in history like the great mages.
But piling up more gold than those sneering wizards slaved for? That'd do.
Most mages chased money anyway, geniuses aside.
Then he'd be above them.
Money's power was terrifying.
Enough of it, and he could buy a title off some broke noble.
Not many things unlocked possibilities like cold hard cash.
Nordel built the item and headed to the spot.
He scored a full gold bar.
Nordel exchanged the gold bars.
Biggest haul of his life, parents' inheritance sale aside.
Expensive booze, fine clothes—money barely budged.
'Rent's overdue. Three months, right.'
He headed to the landlord's, next door to his crumbling brick shack.
Knock knock.
Door creaked open.
Nordel proffered the fat pouch with pride.
The old man at the threshold squinted.
"You didn't murder someone, did you?"
"Pardon?"
"Fancy threads, cleared rent and that shop's tab... Where'd all that cash come from?"
The geezer eyed him hard.
Tied to Nordel's deadbeat folks, he'd overlooked late rent before.
"Nordel..."
Worried the kid crossed a line.
"Landlord, just take the rent. How I got it ain't your business. And it wasn't some shady shit, so butt out."
"Then..."
"God, you're relentless. Told you—not that. Magic gig."
"For real?"
"You think I'd turn robber over cash woes?"
Nordel toed the line.
Not from virtue—just knew his station.
"How much'd you make?"
"Why?"
"Live like a man. Can't rent forever. Buy a place, marry, start a family. Your late ma and pa would've wanted that... Hand your earnings to me from now on."
Nordel tsked.
Hated being babied past forty by this fossil.
"I'll manage. Stay out of it."
"..."
"No need for busybodying. I'll live way flashier than that."
Nordel left.
Nordel mulled it over.
Yeah.
The old man had a point, maybe.
Couldn't shack up in a rental hovel forever.
Better to save than blow it all, prep for later.
No telling when these letters would stop.
But still.
"What possessed you to call us out?"
"Always bumming off us broke-ass, now this ritzy joint?"
"Project paid off big. My treat—order whatever, booze included."
"No shit?"
"Room-bound research every day, and boom, success?"
Why not enjoy the now?
"Thought you were slacking, my bad."
"How's a normie supposed to grasp genius? Mage tower success run now? Circles climbing?"
"Nah, not into mage tower glory. They never saw my potential."
Guys who'd treated him like vermin now looked up.
Stepped into shops once off-limits; beauties resembling paintings poured his drinks.
"Sir, you're a mage?"
"Yep."
"Knew it—love a brainy type."
Nordel bantered with her while eyeing the letter.
Demanded three items this time.
Reward details, naturally, included.
So.
Just a bit more indulgence.
This moment was too damn sweet.