Beloved by Fate
Making concertina wire wasn't difficult.
I mean, all you were really doing was rolling up barbed wire into coils.
Sure, a few extra steps bumped up the production cost a little, but there was zero technical challenge involved. Production went incredibly smoothly.
I wasn't sure whether to call that a blessing or not.
Either way, it looked like the work would wrap up faster than I'd expected.
"Young Master. Registration of the patent for concertina wire has been completed."
"Ah, right."
"To prevent anyone from circumventing the patent, we've also finished registering every derivative patent covering different materials and forms. From now on, we're the only merchant group that can roll up barbed wire and put it to use."
"Aha…"
My sister's employees were absurdly passionate about their work.
They'd never even heard of the concept of concertina wire, and yet after asking me a couple of questions they immediately hammered something out in consultation with the Magic Tower. Everyone was so damn competent…
Unfortunately, competent subordinates did not mean less work for me.
"Young Master. Regarding the safety standards for specialized warehouses storing military supplies—"
"Hold on. It's just wire with barbs stuck in it and rolled into a coil. How is that a military supply? You could use this stuff on a ranch."
"Ah. Understood."
The work never ended.
Every time I tried to half-ass one task, a brand-new one popped up to take its place.
"Young Master. I have a question about the different types of concertina wire—"
"Young Master. There's a problem in the factory construction process—"
"Young Master. A visitation request from the Ministry of Defense and Security—"
"Young Master. I just wanted to call you for a second."
"AAAAAARGH!"
Why did it feel like the workload was only growing?
Was that just how work worked? The more you finished, the more there was? Why did it feel like my clock-out time kept getting later and later?
Ugh, the trauma—
"I'm going home."
"Understood."
In the end, I deserted that insane merchant group.
Seriously. Why was everyone working with this much passion? Was this a normal atmosphere for a company? No matter how I looked at it, they kept hunting down brand-new tasks just to dump them on me.
What had I done wrong?
No—where had I gone wrong in the first place?
It was the gambling after all, wasn't it.
That gamble at the Kissinger Merchant Group. Looking back, that was where every last bit of cosmic spite began.
If I hadn't struck it rich… if I'd managed to lose and pay it back… if I'd at least broken even…
Things never would have ballooned like this. I'd just be learning the ropes at a little recycling outfit.
So this is why they say gambling is the express lane to ruin.
I found myself unexpectedly moved by the wisdom of my ancestors. People really do die from this, you know?!
"Khkh…"
Tears blurred my vision.
Ah, was it raining? No—rain hits colder than this… The sky was disgustingly clear, and the corners of my eyes were wet and sticky.
Ahh.
I never should have wished to become the youngest son of a chaebol family. Why did I ever make that wish? Wait—wasn't the youngest son supposed to be the rich freeloader? You hand the real stuff down to the eldest!
Ah. Come to think of it, I wonder how Eldest Brother is doing these days.
It had been forever since I'd seen him.
For the record, Denma—the one who loved the arts—was my third brother. Meaning I had two more older brothers on top of him. Actually, counting the fourth brother, I had three more. My parents really did get along well, didn't they.
But was it right to hand a merchant group even to me, the fifth son?
In most chaebol stories, the siblings claw each other's eyes out fighting over even one more scrap of inheritance.
Of course, every one of my brothers had a crystal-clear personality of his own.
So our relationships were pretty terrible—and yet almost none of us ever stepped on each other's turf.
Plus, I'd spent my whole childhood diligently grinding affection points so they'd slip me pocket money. They never even seemed to mind giving things to me.
No! You don't need to give me work! Just give me the money!
Ha. This wasn't going to work.
"I'm going to the casino."
The root of all this evil—the casino. This time, I was going to lose a mountain of money and teach that place a lesson.
I owed myself a rematch.
"Welcome, Young Master Otto. I am the manager in charge of this casino."
"Ah, yes. What is it?"
"Please spare us."
"Hang on a second. I really feel like I'm going to lose this time, you know? I'll blow everything I've won so far in one shot and then leave, so—"
"I beg of you, please…"
Sigh. Of course it ended up like this.
Well, there was no real need to bankrupt the casino. I got thrown out. And then I wandered the bustling streets around the hotel in a daze. Ah. Even losing money wasn't easy.
At this point, I was starting to suspect there was some fundamental problem at play. I just didn't know what it was. Was it really just luck? Was this my destiny? To work myself to death until the day I died?
"You there, young man."
"Yes?"
"You've got something on your mind, don't you? Want me to read your fortune?"
"Fortune-telling?"
A woman sitting on the street called out to me.
She had a purple cloth draped over her head and a veil completely covering her face—an unusual look. The way she'd wrapped herself up like a blanket made it hard to even guess her build.
I only knew she was a woman by her voice.
Anyway, I was curious what she wanted to say, so I wandered over.
"Your worries… they're about money, right?"
"Oh. Yeah."
"Thought so. I could tell just by looking."
"Is that so?"
Well, sure. Usually it was either money or love. And if you were roaming the streets at this hour, money was the safer bet. She just took a wild guess and got lucky, right? She looked like a total fraud no matter how I squinted.
"Tsk tsk. With that little faith?"
"Huh?"
"You were just thinking I looked like a fraud, weren't you?"
"Oh."
"And that I just took a wild guess and got lucky?"
"Ooooh."
"And that I only say the kind of plausible lines that work on anyone?"
"Oooooooh."
What? Did she actually just read my mind? Suddenly she looked incredibly legit.
Well, this was a fantasy world—modern-ish as it was. Fortune-telling could exist. I was already suffering under some bizarre brand of luck myself.
Maybe she had a solution?
"Heh heh. I've got just the method for you."
"What method?"
"If you buy this talisman, money will just pour in—"
"Goodbye."
"Hey now, what's the rush? Just hear me out a little longer!"
"You damn con artist."
A money-drawing talisman? I'd just finished printing cash at the casino and she wanted me to buy that? Unbelievable. She really was a scammer.
Sigh. I was an idiot for getting my hopes up.
"Ahem. That was a joke. I'll give you a proper reading, so sit down. The fee can be that chip in your pocket."
"What?"
I dug through my pocket—and there really was a chip. I must have forgotten to cash one out.
But how had she known?
From her angle, she shouldn't even have been able to see my pocket properly.
"Heh heh. Starting to believe me a little?"
"Oh. Are you a card shark, ma'am?"
"Ma'— ahem. Call me Noona. Or Fortune-Teller will do."
"Yes. Fortune-Teller."
I snorted a laugh and dropped a chip into the bucket. Then I sat down in front of her, just as she'd said.
"So, how does this fortune-telling of yours work?"
"Here. Just draw three cards from this set."
As I sat, the fortune-teller spread a deck of cards in front of me. All I could see were identical backs.
Probably something like this world's version of tarot cards. I was starting to get interested.
"I drew them."
"Alright, let's flip them one by one. First card is…"
"Oh. The Treasure card."
"Is that a good one?"
"The best card in a hundred-card deck. Means everything you do succeeds and money flows in. Heh heh."
"Ah."
So it was a bad card.
"But no one can have good fortune forever. There's only one Treasure card in a hundred-card deck. The better the first card, the higher the odds the others will be that much worse—"
"Huh?"
"Uh?"
All three of them?
"…You said there was only one in the deck?"
"W-weird. Want to draw one more?"
"Um? Aren't these all the same card?"
"That can't be…"
This time the fortune-teller tilted her head and flipped a card herself. It showed a jester juggling.
"See? Other cards come up too."
"Uh, yeah, they do?"
"For reference, the Juggling card means you'll go through something chaotic… and this is genuinely chaotic. What are you?"
"Beats me."
I flipped the cards one after another. Treasure, treasure, treasure. Unlike when the fortune-teller flipped them, every single one that came out was identical.
"Hey! You can't just mess with someone else's fortune-telling cards—"
"…Does this one change if I flip it again too?"
As a bonus, I flipped the [Juggling] card the fortune-teller had turned over, then flipped it back. Suddenly it had turned into a [Treasure] card.
What the hell.
Reality itself was being rewritten right in front of me. Did that even make sense?
"What is this?"
"These cards show destiny. The cards themselves are blank white faces with no pictures at all. They draw from your fate and display it."
"Oh…"
"But the same card shouldn't come up multiple times…"
She really was the real deal.
"What even are you?"
"Beats me."
"What, some god who snuck into this world for a little fun?"
"Nope."
Just a guy who died of overwork at a shitty little company.
"…I get the feeling we'll meet again."
"Huh?"
"Ah—and the fee is non-refundable."
"Huh?"
With that, the woman vanished like smoke. Uh. So what was that all about.
And so, production of concertina wire began. I looked at the stockpiles of concertina wire piling up in the warehouse and let out a hollow laugh.
Ahh. Now this is what you call toxic inventory.
That fortune-teller's cards from a few days ago still niggled at me a little… but come on. Who would actually buy all this wire?