Real Doll (15): From Heiress to Beggar

The Hildebrandt family, granted a count's title in the Habsburg Empire back in the 19th century, had always been rolling in wealth. Even after the empire crumbled and noble titles lost all meaning in the modern world, they remained a prestigious house envied by many. They weren't quite at the level of chaebol heirs or billionaires headlining Forbes lists, but their descendants had made names for themselves across Europe and America, flaunting that upper-crust pedigree.

Among them, Elise Hildebrandt was the current head of the family. Rumors swirled that her rapid rise to executive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the mega-corp Blackstars owed a thing or two to family connections. Combining her inheritance with her Blackstars salary put her net worth around 350 billion won. Not enough for the global rich lists, but by any normal standard, she was filthy rich—enough to live lavishly forever without lifting a finger. The family mansions and villas, passed down for over 200 years, were the stuff of envy.

But that was all yesterday's news.

"Yes. Sell everything. Yes, the mansion too. With the exchange rate spiking, hitting 350 million dollars means liquidating all my stocks—and it'll be tight. Yeah, gotta sell the place. Yes, this is a debt I have to pay personally."

In a single day, Elise liquidated every asset she owned. The 200-year-old mansion included. She dumped every Blackstars share too, heedless of the career suicide it spelled. But hesitation wasn't an option—not with that absolute imperative ringing in her head: "Pay it from your own pocket."

Like a woman possessed, Elise scrambled to convert it all into cold, hard cash: exactly 350 million dollars. Selling the house put her right at the mark.

"Thalas New Washington Horse? I've got the compensation ready—please drop the lawsuit. Yes, sending it over now."

The team officials, who had been raging about tipping off the press, went radio silent the moment the money hit. All that bluster about documentaries exposing Real Doll flaws? Money shut them up just fine. Elise felt the raw power of cash all over again as she tied up the loose ends.

"It's done now. No more headaches."

Wait—what? As Elise plopped down in her executive chair, a crucial realization hit her. She was flat broke. A penniless nobody, no different from some average citizen scraping by without a job.

How the hell did this happen? But no matter how she replayed it, there were no wrong moves. At that moment, paying out of pocket was the only right call. No doubts there.

"...Fuck. My salary's 3 billion a year, but covering this loss would take me a century. Goddamn it."

The curse slipped out. A single year's pay made her rich by normal standards—but to a born aristocrat like Elise, it was pocket change. What could she do? Water under the bridge. All she could do was clutch her head and stew.

"Executive Hildebrandt. Ma'am."

"...What? Lee Jiyoung, I'm in a shit mood—talk later."

"No, ma'am... you need to handle this. We've got a noisy claimant on our hands."

"Sigh... I just wrapped up the mess with Real Doll Number 77. What now?"

"Sadly, it's about that Seventy-Seven."

After shelling out 350 million dollars? Irritation morphed into curiosity. What fresh bullshit was this Number 77 pulling now? Why all the fuss over her when other Real Dolls caused zero drama?

"Tell them to come in and air their grievances."

"Got it."

A short, scrawny guy and a burly dude in a wheelchair with a scarred, twisted face entered together. Oh Jingoo and James.

"Where's Isia right now? Give her back!"

"Show me that motherfucking bitch's face. That Real Doll nearly killed me—why the fuck hasn't it been scrapped? Does this company have no regard for human rights?!"

Loud as expected. Exhausted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from blowing her fortune, Elise stayed calm and listened. She needed the full story fast: how had it come to this?

Long story short: Oh Jingoo wanted his stolen lover back. James craved a brutal public disassembly of Real Doll Number 77. He even griped that Thalas New Washington Horse had hogged the payout solo.

"That compensation stemmed from my suffering—shouldn't I get it all? Those team fuckers... can't trust anyone, goddamn it!"

That was my bank account plus the family real estate, asshole?

Already pissed, Elise's stress maxed out enduring James's tirade.

"...James. Why not take that up with the team? We've already paid."

"I did—they slammed the door in my face! I'll sue their asses later. My issue is why the Real Doll that fucked me up is still kicking! Shouldn't it be scrapped?!"

"We paid that massive sum precisely to avoid scrapping it."

With my money, moron.

"Hold up. You're saying you're scrapping Isia noona?!"

Oh Jingoo jumped in sharp as a tack.

"Obviously, dickhead. You blind? Can't even date since that fucking cunt wrecked me! Me, a football quarterback... my life's ruined. I won't rest till that bitch is dead."

"Dead? That's insane! Isia noona... she's a person!"

"What a psycho."

Elise had zero interest in watching these guys brawl in her office. Leaking client info was illegal, but with her mood in the gutter, she blew off the small stuff.

"Oh Jingoo. We can't assist in recovering Real Dolls."

"What?! But Isia and I love each other!"

"So—go find her yourself or don't. Your call."

"What?!"

"I'll give you Number 77's location. Convince her or her owner—whatever."

"For real? You'll tell me where Isia noona is?"

"But swear on paper you'll never darken our doors again."

Beaming, Oh Jingoo signed eagerly and got Kim Hoyoung's address. A godsend after months of dead ends since losing Isia—he bolted without a second thought. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Leaving just James.

"Fuck's sake, unbelievable. Back in my day, I'd have shoved that loser's head in a locker and schooled him proper."

"...Bad boy in school, huh."

"Damn right. Quarterback like me? Top dog. I was the king back then~ fuck."

Glory days, long gone. Endless girls dried up; no income meant scraping by on disability checks. Revenge on Isia was all that kept him going—no future, no joy.

"Gotta kill that cunt! Burn her, crush her with machines! Chop off her limbs!"

"Sigh~"

"You just sighed? Your shitty product ruined my life, bitch!"

With nothing left but rage, James held nothing back. A raging, paralyzed white guy in a wheelchair—Elise just sighed. Kicking him out with security would stir media shitstorms. And yeah, assault by Real Doll was serious; she couldn't just paint him as a troll. No cash left to buy him off either.

"This seems beyond me."

"Hey, fucker! You're an exec, right?!"

"Executive."

"So fix it!"

"Lee Jiyoung?"

"That bitch is a peon!"

Lee Jiyoung was mid-level; James saw the world in execs or grunts. Elise hadn't even called her to solve this.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Escort him out, please."

"And you?"

"Meeting the chairman. This is above my paygrade."

"The... chairman?!"

Blackstars' chair—the first trillionaire in human history? Dude whose wealth dwarfed 2nd through 99th combined. Legendary mogul outranking the US president in power. Yet shrouded in mystery—no one knew his face, habits, or zilch. Internet searches? Nada. Pure shadow emperor.

Lee Jiyoung, a decade-plus vet, had never glimpsed him. Execs must rub elbows, though. Mind blown.

"Yeah, fuck. Drag the chairman here to apologize. Or compensate me proper, assholes."

Ignoring James's bluster, Elise headed for the chairman's office. Lee Jiyoung buzzed with vicarious thrill.

"Heyyy! Fuck! Making me wait with no drink? Shitty service! No wonder you built killer Real Dolls—this dump! I'll trash it all!"

"C-Calm down, James!"

But nostalgia shattered as James rampaged, wheeling around and trashing the office. Lee Jiyoung tried stopping him, but a 190cm+ raging white dude? No dice for one woman.

"Beer! Get me fucking beer! Can't hold out on an empty stomach!"

"O-Okay! Beer coming—please behave! Don't touch stuff!"

"Beeeer!"

If it'd shut him up, she'd shove a bottle up his ass. Cursing inwardly, Lee Jiyoung dashed for booze.

"Heh. About fucking time. Always push till we snap, then play nice."

Alone, James figured one beer wouldn't cut it.

"Gonna smash more shit. Hit a cripple like me with force? Your image tanks. Heh. Turn this place upside down. Yeah—that cocky bitch's desk!"

Smashing the executive desk would feel amazing. Full speed ahead—crash! Desk splintered; drawers flew open. Papers scattered like lotus petals.

"Kekeke. Good luck cleaning up. Shoulda kissed my ass sooner, fuckers. Right?"

One paper snagged his eye. Provocative title.

He strained to bend down and grab it.

Flipping pages revealed women's photos and detailed motives for targeting them as Real Dolls.

"What the...? Aren't Real Dolls randomly selected? Blackstars takes requests and mods specific targets? Holy shit... these fuckers are scum?!"

Last page: beaming Isia.

"Fuck..."

James pocketed the papers in his shirt and scanned the room. Clear. "You fuckers are done! Scum!" Wheels screeched with friction heat as he peeled out.

By the time Lee Jiyoung returned with beer, James was gone—leaving the executive office in utter ruins.