2.
While gaming, Kim Buja had lived by a few simple rules. The most important was cashing out. As a dark gar who made his living from gas, he had to play diligently but never beco overly imrsed. It was a line no dark gar could afford to cross. The mont you started caring more about your character than your real life, you grew attached to your items. Money that should have been funding your reality beca trapped in the character.
Naturally, money spent on a character rarely returned a 100% profit. Even if you invested in a better item, you’d hesitate to sell it at its peak value, telling yourself you’d use it just a little longer. Inevitably, you’d miss the window and sell for less than it was worth. That was the best-case scenario. The worst-case scenario—breaking the cardinal rule—led to a life of instant ran.
Account-bound items.
Server-first or not, Buja had always avoided them. Even if it ant his character’s stats suffered, he made sure every piece of his gear could be resold. Items ca and went, but the account itself was the final product. Lacking damage could be compensated with skill, but a slot filled with an account-bound item couldn’t be converted to cash. For players who raised their accounts with affection, "account-bound" fostered attachnt. For Buja, who sold everything and moved on when the ti was right, it was forbidden territory.
But that was then. This wasn’t the era of PC gas where accounts could be traded. Virtual reality read a user’s brainwaves to log in. Once abandoned, an account was gone for good. For Buja, spending money on his account was an unnecessary luxury. He wouldn’t do it unless he was absolutely certain he could get more than his money’s worth back.
That sa man, for the first ti in his life, was more excited about a reward for his account than an item. Even with a Legendary necklace right beside him, he didn’t give it a second glance.
“Five hundred gold?”
The holograms showering him were so generous they seed excessive for clearing a single Special-grade dungeon. The total exceeded 500 gold. And that wasn’t all. Besides getting an S-grade constellation in one go, he had also unlocked a special achievent.
11. Special Hunter (S)
Each reward was a direct boost to his Gold Maker account. If this were a ga, he would have ignored them and imdiately started calculating the necklace’s market price. But this wasn’t a ga. This was reality. Breaking his own rules, Buja decided to cherish the account he would be using for the rest of his life. He sank into careful thought.
’It’s ti to look to the future.’
Since his awakening, a combination of skill and luck had brought him this far. It had been less than six months—a pace that could stand against any ranker in the world. He was confident he could continue this climb. He hadn’t spent his life gaming just for this, but his innate talent, honed by countless hours of experience, was now being heavily invested into his stats and class.
Still, he was worried. The Special-grade dungeon had shown him just how unforgiving this world could be. ’A Legendary dungeon is out of the question, and even a 2-star is impossible for now.’ He had burned through nearly all his attendance-box potions and miscellaneous junk just to take down that hellhound. And that was just an elite, not even a boss. What if a boss monster had appeared? Or worse, what if the Legendary Crystal Necklace had been around the boss’s neck? He wouldn’t be here now, soaking in a bath and savoring his victory.
Even with the necklace’s power, a Legendary dungeon was beyond his current specs.
“Hmm.”
They say once a player sees the stats on a Legendary item, nothing less will ever satisfy them again. He hadn’t just seen it; he’d touched it, worn it. The desire for a Legendary dungeon, a place where he could farm such items, was undeniable. So he considered his options. As always, the conclusion was to prioritize safety.
“On hold.”
Normally, Buja was the type to push his limits if he saw even a sliver of a chance. The Special-grade dungeon was proof of that. But the odds of success in a Legendary dungeon were simply too low. ’If a monster like that hellhound is just an elite...’ He might be able to clear it by exploiting the conditions, but that would be a hollow victory.
“I need to grow a little more.”
So he decided to invest.
“Just until VIP 3.”
It was ti to see the next stage of content.
* * *
People were getting curious.
—How is Kim Buja so strong?
—Is he a Legendary Class?
—There’s a rumor that Park Sijun just paid for a carry through this dungeon too.
—It’s true. Soone snapped a pic of him handing a case of money to the Jeong Cheol Guild before they went in.
—Is a solo clear of a Special-grade dungeon even possible?
A small flicker of curiosity grew with each of Kim Buja’s achievents, and now it had beco a bonfire, landing him on the real-ti search rankings. It helped that it was a relatively peaceful ti, with no other major events to steal the spotlight. What people were most curious about, of course, was his next move.
—At this rate, couldn’t he take on a Legendary dungeon?
—A 1-star Legendary. You think he could?
—Honestly, a 1-star Legendary is almost impossible. The first 4-star was only cleared recently.
—A top-ranker party challenging a 6-star Legendary seems more plausible.
Expectations were mounting. Buja was under no obligation to et them, but if he could deliver sothing spectacular while all eyes were on him, he could cent his na in the public consciousness. Jeong Seora knew this too.
“Which dungeon will you go to next?” she asked.
In truth, no one was more curious than Seora and the Jeong Cheol Guild. He was a gamble, but his performance had been more outstanding than anyone could have imagined. For a guild aiming for the number one spot, he was a priceless treasure. They had to ensure he never died. For any other player of his caliber, the guild would have hand-picked his dungeons and provided tailored support. He had reached that level after just a few raids.
“For now, I need to farm so gold, so please find a Unique or Special dungeon,” he replied. “Preferably one with as many monsters as possible.”
Because Seora was managing him personally, he had complete autonomy. Any other employee would have tried to talk him out of it. What 1-star player used Unique or Special dungeons for ’farming’?
“Alright, I understand. I’ll look for a suitable place,” Seora said with a nod.
She had seen the countless videos from before his awakening and witnessed his skills firsthand in real dungeons. She was more anxious than anyone, but her faith in him was also absolute. The guild’s future was important, but she was also thinking of his.
“Have you considered reviving your video channel?” she asked casually.
“My video channel?”
“Yes. It’s a thod many guilds, not just SJ, use to build recognition. Nothing special, just editing and uploading dungeon clear videos gets a lot of views.”
“Hmm.”
“That wasn’t in the contract, so you can manage it personally, Legendary Crystal Necklace. We can help with editing and manpower for a percentage. Of course, if you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t have to.”
Promotion aside, as a personal fan, this was one of the things she was most curious about. How did Kim Buja clear dungeons in reality? What class, skills, and thods did he use? She wanted to see. If it involved secrets that couldn’t be revealed, so be it, but there was no harm in asking.
Seeing her cautious expression, Buja let out a small laugh and nodded.
“I’d love to. I don’t know if people will like it, though. It’s pretty monotonous.”
It was sothing he had been considering anyway. Details about his Gold Maker class wouldn’t be revealed in the dungeon, and even if they were, he could edit them out. His only real concern was a practical one.
“As long as you handle everything, I don’t mind the percentage.” Filming in a dungeon wasn’t like a simple internet broadcast. It required professional equipnt, the cost of which was far more than a few hundred dollars.
“Then I’ll discuss it with the team and get back to you.”
“Okay.”
The gar Kim Buja was preparing to step into the real world’s spotlight.
3.
Jeong Seora reported the new developnts to her father.
“We’ve decided to revive his personal channel. Since all we need is to build recognition, we’ve agreed to proceed with us taking just thirty percent.”
This wasn’t a special privilege exclusive to Buja. The mbers of the small-scale Jeong Cheol Guild could also operate personal channels if they chose. The percentage covered all costs, from filming to editing. It was a deal that could be a loss for so players and a gain for others, but neither the guild nor its mbers were splitting hairs over it. Jeong Cheol, who had established this policy, simply nodded.
Besides, he wasn’t interested in Kim Buja’s personal channel right now.
“So, is my armor safe?”
“Don’t worry. He used it well and ca out without a single scratch. You lent it to him because you trusted , didn’t you, Dad?”
“Strictly speaking, it wasn’t that I trusted you and lent it out.”
“Don’t tell you’re not planning on getting it back. How about just lending it to him until he finds sothing better?”
“Ahem.”
Even the calm and composed Jeong Cheol couldn’t hide his attachnt to his prized items. Seeing this rare side of him, Seora smiled and averted her gaze.
She knew it wasn’t right to treat what was essentially theft so lightly. That’s why Buja had questioned her about it, but she had simply told him again to use it well until her father asked for it back.
"Tell him not to lose it," Jeong Cheol grumbled.
"Don’t worry," Seora replied cheerfully. "I gave Legendary Crystal Necklace a stern warning that if he loses it, you might just co raid him yourself."
After all, if Jeong Cheol truly didn’t trust him or have any intention of lending the armor, he was the type of person who would have taken it back imdiately, no matter what she said. This was his form of acknowledgnt.
It may have started as Seora’s audacious prank, but it was evolving into sothing more.
"I should invite him over soon," Jeong Cheol said, his voice thoughtful. "I need to get a contract signed."
Though it sounded like a joke, he was entirely serious.
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