Genius Blacksmith's Game

Ayaka was a professional who knew exactly where to draw the line between business and personal feelings.

A deal was about securing better terms.

Even quoting a lower contract fee was just standard business.

And yet—she’d been completely taken by the highlight reel she’d just seen through Hyunsoo.

It wasn’t like the usual highlight reel.

That single minute carried his life. It carried his growth.

That was why she’d given him the highest praise she could offer.

“This isn’t a video. It’s art.”

And she’d seen something else, too.

A massive potential. The kind of prospect that was worth more than anything else in the world.

Right now, the world was certain Hyun had obtained the legendary-class profession Master Craftsman in the Beginner Zone.

Breaking the wooden doll had only cemented that belief.

There were over fifty Beginner Zones in Korea alone.

So people guessed that in one of those zones, Hyun had met an exceptional blacksmith, become a legend, and then shattered the wooden doll.

But what if, later, they learned it hadn’t been class buffs at all—what if it had simply been skill?

In this day and age... a real blacksmith exists?

It felt as visceral as hearing that a real-life samurai walked among them today.

“There’s a reason you haven’t released this piece of art.”

And Team Lead Ayaka couldn’t reveal it, either.

Under the user information protection clauses, Pureum Co., Ltd. employees had to keep their mouths shut.

Not that she planned to talk.

Still, she became sure of one more thing.

“You’ll be at the center of controversy soon.”

Hyunsoo didn’t answer. He only watched Ayaka.

If he truly had a legendary-class profession, the system would’ve given him some degree of assistance—something that supplemented the user.

But Hyunsoo had nothing to be “helped” by.

What kind of insane game uses a system to supplement raw skill?

So he’d keep pushing forward.

And that would become controversy.

Global controversy.

Just like [N O V E L I G H T] China had suspected a connection between Hyun and the Korea branch this time, the entire world would come swarming with questions.

And if, at that moment, they dropped this highlight reel—and proved it had been skill?

The world would turn upside down...

But the key point remained:

Ayaka still had to negotiate the contract fee, right now.

“As I said, I’m not signing for less than 3 billion won.”

Hyunsoo drove the point home.

Ayaka’s lips parted.

She had a dozen angles she could take.

But Hyunsoo spoke first.

“Don’t give me that tired old line about how appearing in the server merge preview is ‘worth tens of billions.’ That’s the kind of stale pitch people used to make in the film industry—‘If we rent your restaurant, you’ll get publicity, so we’ll pay you less.’”

“.......”

“And don’t tell me Pureum Co., Ltd. doesn’t profit, either. Revenue from distribution, new users pulled in by the preview—and one well-made preview keeps getting clicked for years. You profit too much, not too little.”

“.......”

“Oh, and I want 5% of the distribution revenue tied to the contract.”

“.......”

“And you know this already, don’t you? The moment it’s revealed I’m a real blacksmith, people will click the preview again—and it’ll spike. Oh, and you’re curious about my skill, too? You want it to be skill that can become an issue?”

He opened his smartphone gallery and showed a single photo.

“Baekje’s Seven-Branched Sword.”

“......!”

It had been one of the biggest issues in Korea this year.

Because of it, Korea had gained the Seven-Branched Sword as a national treasure.

And yet there it was in the photo—perfect, flawless, imposing.

Not just skilled... he was at the level of a true master craftsman? At this age?

Hyunsoo said, “I know my value better than anyone. Don’t shave it down. Price it correctly. And one last thing....”

Ayaka was utterly defeated—mind, body, and soul.

“If the terms don’t match, the line about using a different user won’t work.”

She went silent.

In reality, if the price didn’t fit, they could always find someone else.

The problem was that inside Team Lead Ayaka’s head, the thought It has to be Hyun had already taken root.

Wait—5% alone would clear a billion won by a mile... No, way more. And how does he even know the distribution revenue structure?

Ayaka didn’t know—but Hyunsoo had a solid backer.

A director at AJ Internet Broadcasting Station.

Before coming here, Hyunsoo had talked to the director on the phone.

And Ayaka had already decided on Hyunsoo in her heart.

Which meant she had no choice but to run the numbers based on his actual value.

Even paying Hyunsoo a high contract fee, Pureum Co., Ltd. would still come out ahead.

Especially because Pureum Co., Ltd. had a reason they had to succeed with the server merge of Ares—because a second era was opening.

A link would form.

If the server merge preview aired successfully and time passed, when Hyun’s story was revealed, Ares would pull in even more new users.

“Ares, where you can achieve your dream.”

They could attach that line.

Because Hyunsoo was the perfect example.

The one who climbed from the very bottom to the very top.

It would hook even people who’d never cared about Ares at all.

It’s fine. I’ve closed countless contracts successfully.

All those contract fees Ayaka had pressured down in the past—

they were all part of her record.

She gathered that experience and started crunching the numbers in her head: Hyun’s value inside the preview.

Then Ayaka made her decision.

“I’ll pay you 2.8 billion won. And I’ll apply the 5% ratio as well.”

Even that was worth at least 4.5 billion won in value.

Literally at least.

Hyunsoo tilted his head slightly. Ayaka continued.

“That’s the highest amount I can offer.”

In reality, it was the ceiling she couldn’t push past.

Especially with that 5% ratio.

A ratio meant the bigger it hit, the more he took.

Then Hyunsoo said, “I heard a new Ares VVIP capsule is going to be released soon. Is that right? The one limited to fifty units.”

That wasn’t Ayaka’s department.

But she did know a new VVIP capsule was scheduled after the server merge.

The capsule itself sold for around 450 million won.

“If we’re talking cost, wouldn’t it be around 200 million won?”

Ayaka thought—

Why are you pricing it at cost? You’re trying to get blood from a stone...!

Still, Ayaka had enough authority to decide whether one of those fifty units would be allocated to someone.

“All right.”

Only then did Hyunsoo smile and hold out his hand.

Ayaka took it, and Hyunsoo casually scanned the room.

“Anything else I can take?”

The words You psycho—! almost burst out of her.

Like he was saying, Fine, I’ll take less cash—so I’ll at least take this.

But she knew he was joking, and she forced her pounding heart back down.

Hyun’s name was entered onto the contract.

Soon after, the two of them stepped out together.

“Of course we’ll cover the bill. I had a great time today.”

“I had a great time as well. Thank you.”

Hyunsoo greeted her far more politely than before.

Ayaka gave a bitter smile.

She decided to think of it as paying an excessive price—just for today.

Then Ayaka froze when she received the receipt.

“Coffee... 1.25 million won...?”

“Oh—those two ordered the highest-grade coffee in this hotel, made with the finest top-tier civet beans.”

“.......”

No wonder he’d drained every last drop.

Ayaka, feeling as though she’d been picked clean, watched them walk away as she stepped outside the hotel.

Then she made a call.

The capsule production team.

“Yes. A call will come soon under the name Kang Hyunsoo. Approve it under my authority. We’ve decided not to charge him.”

Then one question struck her.

Doesn’t he already have a VVIP capsule?

So why ask for another?

If it were her, she would’ve demanded some other royal-level perk.

Of course, even if you bought it normally, it was a capsule priced at a staggering 450 million won.

And those fifty units weren’t something you could buy with money alone, either.

“What’s the advantage of the new VVIP capsule?”

Ayaka knew that.

Ayaka’s face shifted in shock.

“Has that already been reported?”

Ayaka’s eyes wavered.

A true 100% sync rate.

Meaning reality and the game were completely identical.

Of course, even then, most users wouldn’t be able to feel the tiny difference.

But Hyunsoo was different.

Because he’s a blacksmith by skill, that sync rate will affect him... and it’ll become a foothold for even better crafting.

A chill ran over Ayaka’s skin.

That condition—something that had looked like a simple ask—would make Hyunsoo even more exceptional.

But the employee wasn’t finished.

“More important than sync rate?”

Ayaka frowned, confused.

When you played through a capsule, could anything be more important than that?

The moment she heard the explanation, Ayaka’s eyes widened.

When the call ended, she let out a hollow laugh.

“He took everything. Everything. Ho... hohohoho.......”

Ayaka smiled bitterly.

And since she’d paid him that much, she intended to get her money’s worth.

“We’re going to produce this server merge preview as the best one anyone has ever seen. Everyone understands that, right?”

Her team understood exactly what she meant.

We’re going to make it the best...!

We can do it. We’re adults....

Mom, I don’t think I can come home for a while.

It meant the entire promotions team was about to enter overtime.

*****

“We meet again?”

“I’m happy to see you after a year. And thank you for leading our country to victory in the continental war.”

Hyunsoo felt something stir in him.

Two installation technicians he’d met around a year ago.

Two members of a special installation team that promised absolute protection of customer information.

They were smiling brightly.

“We’ll be retrieving your existing capsule, and we’ll deposit 30 million won—60% of the value.”

Thirty million won. Sixty percent.

A year ago, that number would’ve felt enormous.

Now it barely registered beside the price tag of the capsule being installed in its place.

Just like a year ago, they finished the installation in an instant.

“Thank you. You both worked hard.”

After kindly explaining everything, the two of them started to say goodbye.

Then one of the technicians suddenly stopped.

He suddenly remembered the first time he'd met Hyunsoo.

A young man who wore a mask even inside the house, burn scars visible in brief glimpses across his body.

After they finished installing the capsule and stepped out that day, one technician had muttered,

Poor kid... he could’ve been my son.

They knew he was the first person to break the wooden doll.

And seeing the capsule taking up half of a tiny studio, they’d hoped he’d do well.

Now that young man smiled more.

And he lived in a spacious, clean officetel—not that studio.

Before leaving, the technician said,

“I’ll be cheering for you. And... I’m a fan.”

After they left, Hyunsoo let out a small laugh.

And he looked at the capsule.

It’s a dream capsule for me.

Maybe, for someone else, it could become a dream capsule too.

When he first logged into Ares, he’d thought, I wish there were a capsule with a function like this.

This thing was that wish—made real.

Hyunsoo stepped into the new capsule.

[Sync rate 100% is applied.]

That, too, was extremely important.

But there was one more function Hyunsoo needed.

[Rehabilitation Mode is activated.]