The Jackpot (4)
“I...”
Zephyros faltered for a moment, then drew in a long breath and spoke again.
“I've got a unique class, you see.”
...Out of nowhere?
“I know perfectly well it's a grave breach of etiquette to pry into someone's abilities when they'd rather keep them hidden... but yes, I have one of those.”
He paused briefly, then, unable to hide the faint tremble at the corner of his mouth, asked again.
“But I'm dying of curiosity. What the hell is your class and ability? Just let me know quietly. A cheating class this insane exists? How is the world supposed to be fair after this.”
Zephyros lamented, half-sighing, about how in his day he'd had to grind everything out with a sword... I answered him with a smile.
“Necromancer.”
“What kind of necromancer uses skills like that? None of the necromancer skills I know do anything remotely like it.”
“A somewhat... unusual necromancer.”
“Unusual... don't tell me you've got a unique class?”
“Yes.”
“...A unique class on top of being a necromancer. So that's why you can't use standard necromancer skills.”
A unique class wasn't all sunshine and roses, either. Ahmad Triaine of France, the man who kept popping into my head and stirring up some strange sense of kinship, was not a unique class holder but an ordinary necromancer. Calling that monster “ordinary” felt wrong, but technically, that was the case.
“Then you won't be needing necromancer skill books, I take it?”
“Right. I can't learn them.”
There was a reason an ordinary class could actually be advantageous: class skills could be learned through skill books. Ahmad, originally an IT conglomerate heir, had poured a fortune into collecting and mastering every necromancer skill book he could get his hands on. Unique classes, by contrast, usually had no way to acquire skills except through level-ups or achievement rewards.
Ah, come to think of it, I'd hit level 10 and gotten a skill reward.
“Uh, I hit level 10 and got a skill. Mind if I check it for a second?”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
When I opened my skill window, a new skill had appeared alongside Undead Rise and Reverse Summon, which had been the only two entries before.
Microsight (Unique)
Description: A spell crafted by the legendary necromancer Avicenna. Allows observation of the micro-domain and identification of the traits of microscopic entities. As proficiency increases, smaller domains can be observed.
...Judging from the description alone, it sounded like a microscope or something. It didn't seem like something I'd have an immediate use for.
“From the look on your face, the reward skill must be a bit of a dud.”
“Well, sort of. I was just thinking about how to use it.”
“A unique class, huh... You're walking a difficult road.”
“You had a unique class too, didn't you, Zephyros?”
Not an ordinary swordsman, but the unique class Cheongpung Sword Saint.
“I did, but swordsman unique classes have it far easier than mages do. It's not even a fair comparison.”
“Well, it'll work out somehow.”
Honestly, I wasn't all that worried. What I already had was tremendous in its own right, and for the time being, my current specs would be more than enough to clear dungeons. Reading that confidence in my eyes, Zephyros broke into a knowing smile as well.
After we came out of the gate, I turned to Zephyros.
“So, what do you think? About the Seil Pharmaceuticals acquisition.”
“Doesn't look bad... but you're planning to keep coming back to handle it yourself?”
“A cleared gate takes about a week to fully respawn, right? Once a week is a reasonable visit. Besides...”
“Oh, something's brewing behind that face, isn't it?”
“There aren't that many underwater dungeons, are there? And not every dungeon is profitable, either. Factor in accessibility and all the other variables... the Ocean Hunter Association can't keep throwing its weight around forever.”
When you hold a monopoly, you can flex your nerve without limit. But once you're reduced to merely the second option, that bravado evaporates.
“Once word spreads that the dungeons are being handled reliably, they might be able to secure new contracts at a fair price. Besides, an association isn't made up of people who all think alike.”
Someone strapped for cash right now was probably dissatisfied with the association's decision. They'd been accepting a temporary sacrifice for long-term gains—and if those long-term gains failed to materialize, the sacrifice became pointless. In that case, they wouldn't just sit there sucking their thumbs.
Having heard me out, Zephyros stayed silent for a moment, then smiled and said a single word.
“Approved.”
“...Approved what, exactly?”
“You've got the instincts to run a company.”
“Oh, then...”
“I'll invest.”
“Really?”
Truth be told, this was the whole reason I'd come here with him. To somehow talk him into investing. The only person I could squeeze money out of was Zephyros, so it was a choice born of necessity, too. And yet he agreed this readily?
“Then what about the equity stake...”
“Forget equity. I'll lend it to you at the legal interest rate. I'd happily do it interest-free, but the National Tax Service would come sniffing around.”
“......”
Who is this guy? An angel?
“A-are you sure that's okay?”
“My money's been rotting away for a while now.”
Ah, the rich. I could practically see a halo glowing behind his head.
“Then I'll gratefully accept.”
“In exchange, there's a condition.”
A condition? Well, he was lending money at legal interest without taking any equity—it would've been stranger if there weren't strings attached.
“Go ahead.”
“You know what a DDF is?”
What's that? Seeing my blank look, he continued his explanation.
“It stands for Dungeon Development Fund. A type of ETF.”
“Ah, I think I've heard of it. But why bring that up all of a sudden...”
“I've got about 50 billion won parked in a Jeju DDF that tracks the stock prices of companies based in the Jeju region.”
Rich indeed. He talks about 50 billion won like it's pocket change.
“But I got in a little late. It's somewhat overvalued right now.”
“Overvalued? Why?”
“That's your fault, isn't it?”
“What? Everything's my fault now?”
Zephyros chuckled and elaborated.
“It's anticipation priced in ahead of time.”
“Anticipation...?”
“The next Mystery Gate is on Jeju Island. You cleared the Chungju Gate, so people are hoping.”
The world of stocks was truly a subtle beast. So just from me clearing the Chungju Gate, the market had downed its kimchi soup in one gulp—assuming I'd clear the Jeju Gate too—and the price had already climbed on pure speculation?
“Whether that priced-in anticipation collapses back to actual value, or whether I satisfy the expectation and it surges even higher, all depends on one person.”
Unless I was an idiot, I knew exactly who that was.
“My shoulders suddenly feel heavy.”
“Want them heavier? I'll deduct from your principal by however much this fund returns. Well, I won't increase the principal if it drops.”
“...So if the return comes out to 100%...”
“Your debt gets wiped out for free.”
Even if 100% was a stretch, 50% was entirely plausible. In fact, I'd heard RHS's stock had risen around 70%. If I simply cleared the uncleared gate on Jeju Island—the Mystery Gate—the payoff would be enormous. Of course, that was assuming I cleared it.
And even if I failed, the downside wasn't severe. On the whole, the contract was a massive win for me.
“And I'll be generating returns in that range.”
It was a gain for Zephyros, too, who had 50 billion won parked in the fund. If I didn't clear it, he'd eventually take a loss—but if I did, he'd pocket a fortune.
“I have no reason to refuse.”
I'd been planning to challenge the 11th-stage Mystery Gate on Jeju Island anyway. A lot more was suddenly riding on it, but nothing had really changed.
Once Zephyros stepped in, the Seil Pharmaceuticals acquisition proceeded at breakneck speed. Just as he'd predicted, the banking bloc approved the 50% debt forgiveness. With only 12 billion won of assets recoverable out of the 48 billion owed—and only a fraction of that at that—of course they'd approve recouping half, 24 billion won. I borrowed a little over 20 billion from Zephyros and injected the 15.2 billion in urgently needed funds into the company.
A mid-tier pharmaceutical firm with 200 employees was now entirely mine. Sure, I was buried under a mountain of debt...
“This is incredible.”
Kyuson's voice, brimming with conviction, eased some of the weight on my shoulders. It was a gathering attended by everyone from the executives down to the working staff. Kyuson, newly installed as CTO, continued.
“Seil Pharmaceuticals' flagship product is a fatigue recovery drink, made with Cardiovivre extracted from the hearts of sawtooth ichthyosaurs.”
“Yes, that's right.”
Seil Power Q was a famous fatigue recovery drink even I recognized by name. It must have been doing well enough that they'd gone so far as to acquire a dungeon directly. That was what sank them, of course... If Seil were still healthy, their product would've been a direct competitor to the fatigue recovery drink we were planning to make.
“But when I ran some experiments with the research team here, we found that Cardiovivre has a synergistic effect with elixir. With only about half the elixir, we can produce a stronger effect than the fatigue recovery drink I made before.”
“W-wait a moment... so that means...”
Elixir efficiency doubled? Kyuson had said it before: whether you sold it as elixir medicine or as a fatigue recovery drink, the unit cost came out about the same. But with doubled efficiency, we could charge twice the price compared to selling elixir medicine made from the same weight of raw elixir.
“Of course, since Cardiovivre has to go in, it's not exactly double the unit cost...”
“Isn't that ingredient dirt cheap compared to elixir?”
“It is...”
Cardiovivre existed in the hearts of every ichthyosaur-type monster—a substance that improved blood flow and aided circulation. Naturally, it was incomparably more common than elixir. If mixing in a bit of it doubled elixir efficiency, the value was beyond calculation!
“Let's start mass production immediately. Factory Manager of Cheonan.”
“Yes, sir!”
“How long until we can begin mass production?”
“The recipe isn't much different from the existing one, so with a few tweaks to the current equipment, we can start production right away!”
The factory manager, saved from the brink of unemployment, shouted with fighting spirit.
“Design team.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How soon can you have a draft for the Power Q Elixir packaging?”
“We'll have it done by tomorrow! We just need to make the existing Power Q packaging and imagery a bit more premium.”
There was no reason not to reuse the Power Q name, already famous in the fatigue recovery market. We'd simply append “Elixir” to it and give the impression that it contained elixir components.
“Um, sir? But will we be able to procure the elixir?”
“Don't worry about that.”
I'd already extracted elixir from the first batch of recovered pellets. To delay as long as possible any discovery that elixir could be extracted from the waste, I'd left the waste collection company essentially under Myeongcheol's brother's stewardship. From the outside, it would be nearly impossible to connect Seil Pharmaceuticals with the waste hauler.
“Well then, everyone—thank you for all your hard work.”
At my words, the employees' eyes trembled. Some of them had reddened to the very rims. What if the company went under like this? What if they became unemployed? Their anguish must have been beyond measure. As someone who, until recently, had been just another ordinary employee, I understood that feeling all too well.
“I know you've all been carrying a lot of worry.”
When a company on the brink of collapse was acquired through such a fire sale, that, too, brought its own problems. Usually the employees were made to shoulder the pain under the banner of “shared sacrifice”—wage freezes, pay cuts, and the like. I knew the anxious murmurs had been circulating among the staff, wondering if the same fate awaited them.
“But now, I think it's time for the reward at the end of your hardship. Your efforts will be repaid.”
Now, at last—for me, and for them alike—the promised jackpot had arrived, right before our eyes.