Lee Young-bin’s right-hand man and the core of his faction.
At the same time, his only true friend who has shared the trajectory of life, a partner in fate sharing wealth and honor, success and failure.
It was Director of Strategic Planning, Yoon Philip.
Yoon Philip flipped through the documents the secretary had left behind and continued speaking.
“You’ve got data you can see with your own eyes here, and you’ve already checked the results for yourself. Don’t overthink it—just go ahead and support him. Stop being so stubborn.”
His voice was far from dignified—bouncy and flippant—but, true to his role as Lee Young-bin’s right arm, he went straight to the heart of the matter.
But perhaps uncomfortable at having his thoughts read, a deep furrow appeared between Lee Young-bin’s brows. His friend clicked his tongue.
“Heh, as always, you’ve got the temperament of a sardine. You’ve got a lot of issues, but that one’s the worst. You always make your own predictions, and when they’re wrong, you refuse to admit it and just deny it.”
“Do you want to die? Watch your mouth.”
“Watch your mouth~”
“This bastard.”
“No matter how you look at it, that kid, Lee Shin, has done way better than you expected. As a father, just congratulate him purely. Cheer him on—with the money you’re so good at using.”
“Cocky… I am supporting him.”
“Just a few hundred billion? Do you even know how much your younger brother spent just to recruit members for his kid’s guild? Compared to that, what you’ve given isn’t even one-twentieth of it. At the very least, you should give as much as you’ve given to other guilds so you can brag about it later.”
“…”
“Come on, man, think bigger. I know what hurts your pride, but give credit where it’s due. That kid Lee Shin pulled it off, didn’t he? Do you think you could’ve done as well as him? I couldn’t.”
“…”
He couldn’t deny it.
As the guy said, even if Lee Young-bin himself had jumped in under the same conditions, could he have achieved the results Lee Shin had now?
He thought it over, but couldn’t picture it clearly.
Honestly, if he erased the name “Lee Shin” from the equation, even Lee Young-bin himself would’ve applauded the Mir Guild’s success and praised it.
“Well, I could add another reason you’d like it.”
Among the guilds owned by LeeDo—collectively known as “LeeDo’s Children”—none are currently in a position to be promoted to the 1st Division. Naturally, the Mir Guild is the only one likely to make the leap, and if you support them heavily now, you’ll at least be able to stick your spoon in when they get promoted later.
There were also other reasons, such as keeping the other brothers in check or maintaining influence.
No matter how he looked, there was no reason not to support Lee Shin.
But to his friend, who still couldn’t acknowledge his son because of a pea-sized pride, Philip decided to land one final blow as a friend.
“Here, this.”
“What is it? A newspaper…?”
“A local paper from Busan. Guess where I saw this?”
“What are you getting at? All of a sudden…”
“The Chairman’s Office.”
“…!!”
Yoon Philip spoke.
“The Chairman has his eye on Shin.”
________________________________________
Mir Guild
“Bwahahahaha!!”
At the sound of laughter blasting through the thick walls of the CEO’s office, the front desk staff were momentarily startled, thinking What on earth is going on?, but soon realized it was Lee Shin’s laughter and just smiled as they passed by.
It was louder than usual today, but our CEO’s default setting is “bright,” so there must be something good going on.
And indeed, that was the case. Lee Shin was practically tap-dancing with joy.
Alone in his office, he spun around and stomped his feet in a giddy little dance—he was in an exceptionally good mood.
“Why is the world so bright today? Shin can’t even open his eyes, it’s so dazzling~!”
For the record, that was false. The weather today was overcast.
Through the full-length glass wall, autumn rain was trickling down in steady streams.
But did that matter to the elated Lee Shin? Those dark clouds shone like a midsummer noon to him, and the falling raindrops looked like fireworks celebrating him.
Finally, today—!!
All the frantic effort he had put in until now had finally borne fruit!!
“Puhahahaha!!”
Looking back and forth between the letter on his desk and the message window in the corner of his vision, Lee Shin burst out laughing again.
What had he been running around like a dog with its paws on fire for?
For this. This was the thrilling reward time!
Sure, as a player who loved the game master, running a guild and raising his favorites was fun in itself, but nothing beat reward time for sheer excitement.
Rubbing his hands like a kid on Christmas Eve, Lee Shin sat down in his chair.
“Which one should I look at first??”
Letter? Message? Letter? Message?
The happy dilemma lasted only a moment.
Being the type who saved the best for last, Lee Shin picked up the envelope first.
This letter, for context, was a fresh one delivered that morning via the secretary—straight from Lee Young-bin.
When he opened the envelope, he saw fine, meticulous handwriting, in none other than the Gothic Script, the mark of overly serious people.
It was a blatant attempt to say, “Look how sincere I’m being.”
The elegant mahogany-patterned stationery was filled with Lee Young-bin’s fussiness, expressed in that formal script.
Nice.
The emotional touch of a handwritten letter, the penmanship, the effort—
All great.
The only problem was… the content.
“Why the hell is the actual content like this? Totally kills my vibe. The very first line is, ‘Even a grub can roll.’ Is that something you say to your kid?”
Was it really that hard to just give a compliment? Even something like, “Good work” would’ve been fine.
Personally, he was becoming more and more certain:
If the character “Lee Shin” had been shaped by the Lee Shin of here, then the man “Lee Shin” had been turned into a rascal by Lee Young-bin.
“Well, no point reading the rest.”
It was just one page—the maximum length he was willing to read out of consideration for the effort.
To summarize: “Not bad,” “If you can do this, why didn’t you before?” and “Are you messing with me?”—glowing praise in his own way.
Not in the mood to listen to a grown man’s whining, Lee Shin whistled and neatly folded the letter, stuffing it deep in a desk drawer.
If Lee Young-bin had seen it, he would’ve gone red in the face, veins bulging, ranting about being disrespected.
And yes, that would be correct—he was ignoring it.
“It’s not like someone held a knife to my throat and demanded recognition. He’s making it painfully obvious he wrote it reluctantly.”
If he’d just been a bit more sincere, Lee Shin might even have replied. Too bad, Dad—you missed your chance.
Shaking off any lingering thoughts, he unfolded the sheet that had been enclosed with the letter. Unlike the stationery, it was A4 paper with a familiar standard font.
It was a list of gifts from Lee Young-bin to Lee Shin.
If this were reflected in the game system, it might have popped up like this:
※ Lee Young-bin’s trust in you has increased slightly.
※ All debts owed to Lee Young-bin have been forgiven.
※ Support funds from Lee Young-bin have increased fivefold.
“Kyaaa~! Fantastic.”
A shout from deep in his chest.
This was what it meant to be a chaebol. This was [Wealth 100]!!
“Five times… that’s about 100 billion won, right? Sure, it’s pocket change at the major level, but for League 3, it’s more than enough.”
League 4 didn’t even cross his mind. In Lee Shin’s head, the Mir Guild’s promotion was already a done deal.
The only problem was that, starting in League 3, Lee Shin planned to start seriously throwing money around, so this amount would be a bit tight.
“I’m sure there’ll be another bonus then.”
The first time is always the hardest—after that, it’s easy.
If he was impressed enough to open the purse strings this wide now, then when Lee Shin shattered records with an overwhelming margin at promotion, pride alone would compel him to hand over something extra.
Yeah… how much would it be?
Just thinking about it had Lee Shin’s smile stretching up to his cheekbones.
“I’ll be counting on you from now on, heh heh.”
And thus ended the first wave of emotion.
Now, riding the momentum, it was time for the second.
Lee Shin spun his chair around, leaning the backrest all the way as he gazed out the window.
The gloomy sky had grown even darker, pelting down heavier raindrops, but his eyes weren’t following the rain.
Forty-five degrees into the air—
That message window, practically shouting, “Hi, I’m your reward!”
That’s what he was fixated on.
“It’s here. The big one’s here.”
As a seasoned veteran, Lee Shin already knew exactly what achievement that reward was for.
“The reward for the original achievement ‘300,000 Season Pass Holders’ is ‘Lucky Seven.’”
Lucky Seven, an “Honor” that slightly increases a manager’s “Luck” stat when inside the guild.
Because of its vague numerical boost and the condition of being inside the guild, it’s been evaluated as “trash.”
However—
“If you pull this off in League 4, that’s a different story.”
The GM is famous for being historically well-balanced, and while it gives small rewards for easy achievements, it grants commensurately good rewards for difficult ones.
League 4 has 300,000 season ticket holders.
In real-world terms, that’s like a third-division soccer team filling all 66,000 seats of the Sangam World Cup Stadium.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
But Lee Shin made this impossible feat happen, and the reward was upgraded.
Like so—
[ (Achievement) Reached 300,000 season ticket holders +2000p ]
[ League 4 overachievement bonus +1000p ]
[ Reached 2 million subscribers +300p ]
[ Reached 500,000 fan café members +300p ] ……
……
…
.
※ Points acquired: 4000p
※ You have exceeded the achievement requirements. Due to this, the original reward “Lucky Seven” will change.
※ You are awarded “Triple Seven: 777” as a reward.
Triple Seven (777) is an evolved form of Lucky Seven.
Luck, previously applied only to the manager, is now applied to all guild members, and the “slight” increase in Luck is upgraded to a “significant” increase—this is a hidden Honor.
“Haaahhh… I got it faster than I thought. A seasoning to help with my dynamic play.”
Luck is the most ambiguous stat in GM.
Unlike intuitive stats like Strength or Agility, it’s so subjective that it can mean one thing or another, and even outside GM, Luck is the most hotly debated stat in any game.
You might find 100 won on the street, or, in an extreme case, win first prize in the lottery.
When, how, and in what way it activates—nobody knows. It’s just that vague.
“If it’s too extreme for the player to handle, it can even turn into bad luck.”
That’s why some players deliberately minimize any Luck-related Honors or items as much as possible.
But despite public opinion, Lee shin places a high value on Luck.
If you can predict it, is that really good luck? No—that’s skill.
In the end, Luck is a variable, and a variable can, depending on how you use it, become the final puzzle piece that completes a masterpiece.
“It’s very attractive.”
And there’s one more thing. This Honor hides an Easter egg…
Just once, immediately after obtaining it, Luck directly triggers an event.
“Alright! What’s it gonna be? A treasure island map? An SSS-rank hunter walking in on their own?”
An exclusive weapon event would be nice, or maybe a points bonus.
Who cares—anything’s fine, just let it trigger.
Like a child rummaging through a Christmas stocking, I-sin watched the clock with excitement.
And finally, the Luck that arrived was—
“Sir, the fan clubs have clashed!!”
Oh, shit.
