6.

Kenji liked to think he had a pretty good read on the state of the continent.

Now that he sat on the throne of a kingdom, he had access to NPC-only intel that no ordinary User could ever see. Neighboring kingdoms sought him out to share information he’d never known, and countless Users sent him whispers packed with tips and reports.

The position shapes the person.

That was a truth that never changed, whether in a game or in reality. It was an old saying for a reason. Wherever you were, human beings adapted.

To absorb the flood of information and grow faster, he had no choice but to process it all, whether he wanted to or not. Unlike in the past, when he had cared only about User rankings, he now found himself paying more attention to the troop counts and combat power of neighboring nations than to any ladder standings.

That difference gave him a sense of pride he couldn’t suppress. It meant he was playing the game that much more seriously, and naturally, it gave him confidence in his strategy.

However, Han Simin’s response, the Empire’s sudden movements, and the invisible hands closing in were more than enough to smash that confidence to pieces.

It would have been strange if they hadn’t.

It was like this: Imagine you’ve taken the college entrance exam ten times, turning it into a profession where you make money and earn a reputation as a specialist tutor. At this point, you no longer need to get nervous or even prepare; you know the examiners’ intentions inside and out and are confident you can score either a zero or a perfect score at will. Then you walk out of the test, turn on the TV, and see the chief examiner explaining the questions in a format you have never even seen before.

It was a complete destruction of common sense. A crucible of shock.

If your confidence crumbles during the process, how likely is it that your results will turn out well?

Absolutely zero.

You don’t even need to wait for the report card to know that much for sure.

You’re screwed.

With the college exam, you can at least say, “There’s always next year.”

『Fantastic World』 wasn’t like that.

It was a competitive market fiercer than the stock market, changing every single second. Every time you blinked, the situation shifted, a kingdom fell, and the price of Gold fluctuated. Of course, the price of Gold itself had never once dropped since the game opened, but it was still a market that moved at a dizzying pace, and he had just been thrown into chaos.

It wasn’t just a momentary dizziness. The shock was so great that his brain practically froze.

Kenji, who had been so full of confidence, investing every single day into 『Fantastic World』 and keeping up with the current situation down to the last detail, felt a sense of dissonance. ’Is this really the same game I’ve been playing?’

A variable that had never been in his plans.

The situation was unfolding in a direction he had never anticipated.

The quest that had begun with the noble cause of saving the Imperial Family and the Great Temple had, in an instant, transformed into a User-led rebellion to rescue the Demon King, seize wealth and glory, and topple the Empire and the Temple.

And Kenji had become the leader of those rebels.

He needed to know why.

He wanted to understand how he had been so thoroughly outplayed.

Naturally, there was no way the other side would tell him. You’d have to be an idiot to explain your strategy when your opponent was already flustered by the ambitious card you’d just played. If you told him how it worked, he would immediately prepare a countermeasure.

Even so, Kenji chose this method.

He had no certainty it would work.

’But if it’s Simin, it just might.’

He had no solid assurance, but in this, at least, he had plenty of confidence.

Not in the game, but in reality.

It was, for all intents and purposes, his one and only—and greatest—weapon for making his voice heard within 『Fantastic World』.

He would make a deal there.

With money.

On the face of it, it sounded ridiculous. This wasn’t some game where a few bucks changed hands. If things continued like this, Han Simin would become the hero who crushed the rebellion, maintain his current glory, and smoothly rise to become the top User on the continent. His real-life situation would become several times more comfortable than it already was.

And yet, Kenji wanted to negotiate.

Because Han Simin was the one who had drawn an even bigger picture than Kenji in his pursuit of wealth.

“Where shall we meet?”

Hope answered his faith.

At Han Simin’s unhesitating, positive reply, Kenji logged out immediately.

In a way, this was a shortcut, a choice that could easily wound his pride. He might have picked it now because he saw no other option, only to regret it later.

Not financially.

His pride.

In terms of the game, he had been completely outmaneuvered and was now hanging off a cliff’s edge, about to plunge. Of course, even if he fell, he could keep playing. If you fall, you just climb back up.

But he hated that. He wanted to maintain his current momentum and push even higher. If he fell here, he felt he would never again be able to catch up to Han Simin—or even to Specialist.

So, he was effectively using a cheat code.

That, however, was a problem for later.

Right now, he needed to know what had been going on behind the scenes, beyond his knowledge.

He needed to know how, exactly, he had been taken.

The ending was already written, but for Kenji—who had lived his life without ever really tasting failure—being blindsided without understanding the process was simply unacceptable.

Wearing a grave expression, Kenji stepped out of the capsule and got ready.

His private jet thundered down the runway for the first time in a while.

*

There was no real need for Han Simin to go.

In truth, he had already reached a point where he could sustain himself and achieve his ultimate life goal—slacking off and living easy—without ever making another deal with Kenji.

If he just kept doing what he was doing now—streaming, enhancing, and fleecing people—for one more year, he could secure enough money for himself, and even his future kids, to live out their lives doing nothing. Not on Kenji’s level, of course, but it would be more than enough.

However, if he were the type to be satisfied with that, he would never have climbed this high in the first place.

Han Simin was always hungry.

He always wanted to earn more, and his baseline target was at least the level of a chaebol chairman.

Because of that, even though he knew there was nothing to gain by going, he accepted Kenji’s request. It wasn’t as if he had just said yes thoughtlessly for a quick buck, either. He was past the stage of lunging at anything just because it involved money.

He had done a thorough calculation. It didn’t take long.

From the start, the grand picture he was painting was not some scheme designed specifically to trip Kenji up.

This was just a passing brushstroke.

No, not even that. At best, Kenji was like a fly that had nothing to do with the painting at all.

While he was painting, a clueless fly had landed on the grand canvas Han Simin was working on. Its butt was so heavy it didn’t notice the brush coming and got squashed, becoming part of the artwork.

Now that fly, not understanding what was going on, was begging to be removed, offering anything in return.

Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered. But if the price was right, plucking out a fly and adding one more stroke of the brush was hardly difficult.

So, his steps were light.

In any case, this whole situation had started as a way to plug the revenue gap left by the now-weakened Epia and to conceal her identity. It was a problem so complicated that it had given even Han Simin a headache, to the point that he found himself worrying about it even in the few hours he managed to sleep. No matter how capable he was, he couldn’t resolve everything perfectly while also taking other people’s feelings into account.

Yet in the end, things had flowed in the direction he had intended, and Kenji had come asking for a deal.

What would he get out of it?

He would give as much as Kenji wanted and take as much as he wanted in return.

How could he not feel at ease? He felt he had at least broken even.

“La-la-la.”

Logging out of the game didn’t weigh on him at all.

At this point, he didn’t actually have to do anything anymore. He was currently leading the charge, smashing kingdoms, but his role had ended with making an example of the first one and demonstrating the Empire’s will. His current tour was purely for efficiency. He had no intention of spending any more Gold through Squeaker, so in practice, it was the Imperial Army and the Imperial Knights who were doing the fighting.

And wasn’t the biggest reason he was tagging along to generate extra income through the Rabbits?

Compared to that kind of petty side income, a meeting with Kenji would bring in far more money. Of that, he was certain.

They were enemies in the game, but there was no need for them to be enemies in real life. He put on a smile. For some reason, he felt particularly proud today of the fact that, despite their rocky relationship in-game, he had never once scowled at Kenji.

’People really never know how things will turn out.’

He had a feeling they would be able to have a good conversation.

“...So, why are you all coming along again?”

“Can’t we go too?” Yeseul asked.

“Well, it’s not that you can’t, but I don’t really see the need.”

“Still, when else are we going to meet the world’s number-one tycoon in a private setting?” she reasoned. “Even if you’re the one running the company, we’ll probably be seeing him often from now on. It’s good to make an impression early.”

Simin fell silent.

If only the three of them hadn’t insisted on tagging along.

He could understand Kang Yeseul and Jeong Seolah, at least. Any man’s guard would naturally drop with two beautiful women at the table, making him more open than he intended.

But he had no idea why Jeong Hyeonsu was coming.

Under Simin’s questioning gaze, Hyeonsu just shrugged.

“Help me network.”

Simin stared at him blankly.

’Yeah, yeah.’

Faced with that brazen line, Simin couldn’t come up with a retort. If it had been anyone else, he would have snapped back with something like, ’I’m allowed to be shameless, but who the hell are you?’ But this was Jeong Hyeonsu, someone he had grown genuinely fond of. They were practically family.

Besides, this was a deal with no contract attached—the kind of personal connection any chaebol would gladly spend billions to secure. By arranging this meeting, he had opened the door for Hyeonsu, who intended to run the company, to establish a face-to-face relationship. There was no way Hyeonsu wouldn’t repay that favor.

And so, the four of them headed to the appointed place.

The meeting spot was the top-floor suite of a five-star hotel in Seoul. A single room occupied an entire floor, spacious enough for discreet conversations and comfortable enough to enjoy the night view. It exuded a sense of class that made it easy to discuss high-level information.

Of course, to game addicts who spent all day lying in capsules, such surroundings meant little.

The door opened, revealing Kenji.

It was a face Simin had seen often enough in-game to call it familiar, but this was his first time seeing him in reality. He wore a neat semi-suit, his hair was well-groomed, and his solid, toned body showed lean muscle. A gentlemanly smile that could win anyone over at first glance.

Even Specialist, a second-generation chaebol herself, couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated. In reality, this was what “level” meant.

If Han Simin was in an untouchable tier in 『Fantastic World』, then in the real world, Kenji was on that level. No, the gap here was even bigger. In real life, Kenji was on a completely different plane of existence.

The Specialists, who had followed along brimming with confidence, and the others witnessed something even more astonishing.

Just a year ago, Han Simin had been an ordinary, unemployed bum who had struck it rich overnight. In-game, he was just a User who had started late, wandered around, and happened to pick up a Special item.

That guy walked right up to the titan of industry and held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Simin said, completely at ease and without a hint of tension. “You’re even better-looking in person. In the game, you seemed like a total pushover, so I was a little suspicious. But I think I can relax and talk comfortably now.”

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Kenji,” he replied in fluent Korean.

“...Holy...” Seolah muttered under her breath.

The atmosphere lightened far more than they had expected.