"Wait... why are there so many?" His grin faded. "Oh no. Are these... old players coming back? The high-level ones? The ones who don’t spend money?"
His blood ran cold. If those freeloaders didn’t pay for gear, his 100,000-dollar equipnt bundles would just sit there gathering dust.
"Nope. Not on my watch." He grabbed his phone and dialed Fen Su at Horny Princess Interactive.
"Mr. Kim?" ca Fen Su’s cheerful voice.
"No ti for chit-chat. Tell straight—did anyone buy the 100,000-dollar gear recently?"
"Uh, aside from the three sets at launch? No. Nothing since."
"Good." Click.
He hung up. Just like that.
Fen Su stared at his phone like it had insulted his mother. "...What the hell was that?"
Across the room, Jin Wu raised a brow. "Problem?"
"Mr. Kim called to ask if anyone bought the expensive gear."
"And?"
"I said no, then he hung up. I was about to give him a full report on the player numbers and updates, but..."
Jin Wu smirked knowingly, leaning back. "No need. The man runs two companies. He doesn’t want the small stuff. If the ga blows up again, then you report. Until then—silence is loyalty."
Fen Su blinked. "That... actually makes sense."
"Of course it does." Jin Wu folded his arms. "You think he promoted from salesman to office director because of my charming smile? No. It’s because I can read his subtext."
Fen Su nodded slowly, muttering, "Note to self: decode boss gibberish faster."
Back at the clothing factory office, Suho sighed with relief. No new buyers? Perfect. My whales are safe.
With peace restored, he returned to his favorite pasti: bullying strangers in the ga.
That’s when he spotted a familiar na on the map: Gan Jiudi.
"Oh, look who it is." Suho’s eyes narrowed. "That sidekick of Mr. Tuhao. It’s brave of him to be out here farming. Brave... but stupid."
One slash. Instant kill.
Cut to: a dingy rental apartnt.
Jiang Jiu, the unlucky victim, stared at his screen in confusion. One second he was happily farming monsters, the next—dead.
"What the—?"
He shook his head. No matter, the loot’s about to drop. I’ll just revive.
Diamond spent. Respawned. Took one step forward—BAM. Dead again.
This ti, he saw the na: Xue Luo.
His jaw dropped. "That’s... the ga’s agent!"
And the guy wasn’t even pretending. Xue Luo was standing over his corpse like a bouncer at a nightclub. Full corpse camping mode.
"This is harassnt! This is bullying!" Jiang Jiu raged. "Fine. Fine! Be smug for now. When Brother Hao gets his gear, you’re done. I’ll personally clip your wings, Xue Luo!"
He slamd his mouse, then muttered, "Okay... maybe I’ll just go farm sowhere else. Sowhere safe. Like... I dunno... tutorial island."
Resolved, he swore to cut his sleep down to three hours a night until he’d gathered all the gear Brother Hao needed.
Cue ominous sitcom freeze-fra.
Back in Suho’s office, he smirked at the empty field where Gan Jiudi’s body had been.
"Not reviving, huh? Coward."
Satisfied, he logged out.
Knock, knock, knock!
The door burst open, and in swept Choi Yeji, her lawyer briefcase practically glowing with competence.
"CEO Kim, here’s the legal education plan I prepared," she said crisply, dropping it onto his desk like a mic drop.
Suho raised his brows. "Wow. Already? What is this, so kind of efficiency contest? Can’t you people just... slack for once?"
He flipped through the file like he was speed-reading a restaurant nu, then promptly closed it and shoved it back.
"Looks fine. Roll with it."
Yeji froze. "That’s it? No notes? No suggestions? No soul-crushing rewrites?"
"Just make sure it doesn’t cut into rest ti. Gotta keep my slogans consistent."
"...O-okay," Yeji muttered, blinking down at the untouched plan.
She’d spent nights perfecting this thing. At her old law firm, they’d have sent it back three tis, pointed out a missing comma, and then rewritten the margins in Comic Sans.
And here? Approved in five seconds.
She stood there awkwardly, clearly waiting for so kind of feedback.
Suho glanced up. "...Anything else? Or are you just here to practice standing dramatically?"
Choi Yeji walked out of Suho’s office still blinking like soone who’d just been pranked.
The legal education plan had passed on the first try. No red ink. No nitpicks. Not even a passive-aggressive sticky note.
She’d half expected Kim Suho to tear it apart with phrases like "wording too weak" or "add more dramatic commas." Instead, he’d shrugged and said, "Looks fine."
Now she was left standing in the hallway like an intern who’d been dismissed five minutes into her first presentation.
So... do I go ho? Start a new project? Stare at the wall until inspiration strikes?
She opened her banking app and saw the 1 million dollar transfer still sitting there from him.
She sighed. "Man just gives a fortune, waves off, and expects not to spiral."
Friday.
Kim Suho sat at his desk with a face like soone who’d just seen their credit card bill. Wu Yu’s sales report lay in front of him, mocking him with numbers.
The business team had gone feral—signing contracts left and right. In just a few days, they’d pulled in over 500,000 dollars in orders.
Great news... except payroll had already gone out early. Plus taxes, plus utilities, plus every mysterious "miscellaneous" line item that popped up like weeds. Nearly 1 million dollars burned.
The silver lining? He still had 3.1 million in system funds left.
The problem? Salesn on caffeine and desperation were basically printing orders. It was chaos.
Before he could drown in anxiety, Cho Rin poked her head in.
"CEO Kim, the employees are ready. It’s showti."
Suho blinked, then rembered. Today wasn’t just paperwork hell. Today was the big sports festival.
He sighed, shelving his panic for later. "Fine. Let’s go watch adults humiliate themselves in matching sweatpants."
Outside the workshop, rows of employees stood neatly in their brand-new sportswear.
The clothes had been made in-house, with "Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory" proudly stamped across the chest, and crisp white caps perched on every head.
They looked like a cult that had just discovered athleisure.
At the front, soone held a giant flag like they were about to invade a small country. Overhead, two drones buzzed, recording every awkward shuffle.
Suho pointed at Lee Wonho.
"You got the stuff?"
"Yes, sir." Wonho jogged over like a man reporting for military duty. "Phones and laptops are already loaded in the van. Non-physical prizes have been turned into laminated coupons. Each one is marked with a na and price. Employees can exchange them for actual prizes or cash."
Suho gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Coupons make suffering official."
Then, with a wave of his hand, "Alright, march them onto the buses."
Minutes later, the caravan rolled out. Suho rode in his business car while Son Choku drove solemnly behind the employee bus like a Secret Service agent.
At the sa ti, across town—employees of Horny Princess Interactive were lining up outside their office, also decked out in Steel Cup sportswear.
Fen Su and Jin Wu stood at the front, chatting like they were generals before a battle. Two more drones circled above, capturing every fra.
"Not bad," Fen Su muttered. "We look like we’re hosting the Hunger Gas."
Jin Wu smirked. "Except the prize is a free toaster."
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