After exchanging greetings, Do-Jin and Ju Kang-Hee sat across from each other and began to talk.

“It’s been a while,” she said.

“It really has. Seems like it’s gotten harder and harder to meet face-to-face,” Do-Jin replied.

“That’s because you’ve been so busy,” Ju Kang-Hee said with a subtle smile.

“You’ve been just as busy. I heard you personally oversaw everything about the collaboration this time,” he pointed out.

At that, the corners of her lips lifted. It was a smile that mixed fatigue with pride in equal measure.

“Busy is good. I have my reasons to keep living that way,” she said.

Her words carried weight, but Do-Jin only nodded. When someone spoke with that kind of expression, empty platitudes never helped. In his experience, silence and a nod worked better than anything clumsy he could try to say.

“So, what’s the sudden visit for? The surprise event was already more than enough to catch me off guard, but now you’re here in person too,” Do-Jin asked.

“I wanted to hear your impression of the event directly, and I wanted to thank you in person,” Ju Kang-Hee replied.

“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?” he said.

Ju Kang-Hee shook her head.

“Rael Entertainment works hard, yes. But that’s something any company could do. Someone like you, Do-Jin, would have received this level of treatment no matter which company you joined,” she said calmly.

There wasn’t a hint of self-congratulation in her tone. She actually believed pulling off the collaboration this well was nothing more than doing the bare minimum. Getting praise from Chairwoman Kim had been nice, but in Ju Kang-Hee’s head, with the conditions and resources she had on hand, more had never even been on the table.

It was the kind of mindset that came from being shaped by Kim Hyang-Gi herself, a woman who lived and breathed meritocracy and expected everyone around her to shed blood, sweat, and tears for results.

Ju Kang-Hee had inherited every ounce of those relentless standards. But while she saw her own work as nothing extraordinary, Do-Jin honestly felt the company was doing a good job.

“Plenty of people fail at the basics. By my standards, both you and Rael go above and beyond what’s expected. I appreciate how you make sure I can focus on my gaming without hassles,” he said.

No, forget everything else. How many agencies would actually burn their own money to move a streamer into a better place when the guy flat-out said he couldn’t be bothered and would rather stay put?

Thinking about it now, Do-Jin could completely understand why, in his past life, Rael Entertainment had a reputation for being such a pushover, the kind of company everyone called a soft touch because their terms were too good.

After Do-Jin gave his honest opinion, Ju Kang-Hee’s eyes lit up. “So you’re saying you’re really satisfied with our company?” she asked.

He instantly sensed where this was going, knowing what she was about to bring up.

“Anyone else would hem and haw, trying to figure out the best way to bring it up. But I don’t want to play those games with you, Do-Jin, so I’ll say it straight. What do you think about staying with us?” Ju Kang-Hee said plainly.

Do-Jin fell silent, sinking into thought. There’s about six months left on the contract, isn’t there? That’s plenty of time for my value to keep climbing.

He was sure that the more time passed, the higher his value would climb. If he waited until the contract was near finished before making a move, he could lock down way better terms. Other agencies would come sniffing around too. If he played it right, he could pit Rael against the competition and bleed both sides for an even fatter deal.

And yet... I don’t want to do that. Do-Jin thought back on what Rael Entertainment, Ju Kang-Hee, and Chun Ji-Hyun had done for him over the past six months.

Rael Entertainment and Ju Kang-Hee in particular had almost never been a pain in the ass. Other than the procedures that were absolutely necessary, they bent over backward to make sure he had an environment where he could grind games without a single distraction.

Chun Ji-Hyun was naturally kind and diligent to a fault. At first, it had felt awkward as hell treating someone barely twenty-two as if she was the older, steadier one when he had already lived to thirty-five in his past life. Yet, that awkwardness had burned off a long time ago. Now she honestly felt like family, basically the older sister he had never asked for but ended up needing anyway.

Up until recently, I was still debating what to do when the contract came up again...

Now, though, he felt like he could give his answer.

“Alright. Let’s do it. I guess this would be called a contract renewal. I wouldn’t know since I’ve never had to deal with this kind of business before,” Do-Jin said plainly.

At his words, Ju Kang-Hee’s eyes went wide.

“What did you just say?” she asked.

“You said you wanted to renew, didn’t you? Why are you so surprised?” he replied.

“I didn’t expect you to decide so easily. I only brought it up to start preparing for negotiations and working out terms in advance. If you just accept immediately like that, what am I supposed to do?” Ju Kang-Hee said, pressing her fingers hard against her temple as if it gave her a headache.

Why the hell is she mad at me...? Do-Jin thought, baffled.

With a sigh, Ju Kang-Hee continued.

“In this situation, you’re the one holding the power, Do-Jin. Not just in the technical sense written on paper, but in reality. You should know how to use that. At the very least, you should be saying you want to hear the terms before agreeing,” she said firmly.

“I’m fine with things staying the same. We already revised the revenue split once during renewal, and I’m satisfied with that.”

“The terms aren’t only about revenue splits,” she said, starting into a lecture. “Of course, that’s the most important part, but a contract also defines how well the agency will handle deals, how much effort they’ll put into advancement, and what happens if those areas don’t deliver results. These are things you can’t ignore. For matters like this, you should have an attorney look them over. You’re making good money now, and you’re only going to make more. That’s why—” 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Do-Jin sat there, nodding along and listening with half an ear while letting everything slide straight out the other. I only said yes because I don’t feel like dealing with this shit.

Ju Kang-Hee must have caught on, because her eyes narrowed into a glare.

“You just thought it was a hassle, didn’t you?”

“No?” Do-Jin answered awkwardly.

“Don’t lie. It’s written all over your face.”

What the fuck is she, a mind reader? Do-Jin thought, sipping at his orange juice with a sheepish look.

Ju Kang-Hee let out a hollow laugh, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“Do you know how unfair this feels? I spent a whole week preparing terms, drafting a contract, running negotiation strategies and simulations... The least you could do is let me use what I worked on.”

“Then use it,” Do-Jin casually replied. “If you’re saying all that, the terms must be good. Let’s sign on those. Leave it with me, and I’ll either have a lawyer go over it or read it myself and get back to you.”

“You’re exasperating, you know that?”

“Alright, alright. What are the terms?”

Ju Kang-Hee raised her finger toward the ceiling. “The contract period is three years. This condo is the signing bonus.”

“How much is it worth?” Do-Jin asked.

“Three and a half billion won. The company will, of course, handle all tax issues.”

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“Can’t you at least sound genuinely impressed?” she shot back.

I am impressed, damn it.

Do-Jin argued his case, but from the look on her face, she wasn’t buying it. That was just the price of already getting on her nerves.

“If there’s something you want to do, the company will back you all the way. We’ll even put together a team just for you,” Ju Kang-Hee continued.

“Isn’t that a bit too much?” Do-Jin asked.

“Not at all. When the results are this strong compared to the effort we put in, there’s no reason not to,” she replied evenly.

She laid out all the terms she had prepared, one after another. Even to Do-Jin, they sounded like solid conditions across the board.

“So, what do you think?” she asked at the end.

Do-Jin thought for a moment, then opened his mouth. “Let’s add one more thing.”

“Go ahead. As long as it’s not completely unreasonable, I’ll make it happen.”

“It’s not about me. I just want Chun Ji-Hyun to get something out of this too.”

Ju Kang-Hee blinked in surprise, then let out a faint laugh. Of course, she should have known he would say something like that. Instead, she had spent days chewing her nails over whether he might slip out of her hands, and now she felt like an idiot for worrying.

“Chun Ji-Hyun already moved into a new place a few days ago. The company prepared it. It’s nearby so she can support you more easily. The rent is fully covered by us,” she explained.

What the fuck? She moved and didn’t even tell me? This damn woman just packs up and changes houses like it’s nothing? Do-Jin thought.

“She has already been promoted from an entry-level position to assistant manager, and pushing further too quickly might put her in an awkward position with her peers. Her salary has already been adjusted,” Ju Kang-Hee explained.

Her eyes met his, asking silently if that was enough.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Do-Jin said.

This was why working with Ju Kang-Hee wasn’t half bad. She covered every little detail before he could even open his mouth, leaving him with nothing to complain about. Moments like this proved that signing with Rael Entertainment had been one of the best choices Do-Jin had ever made.

***

Most of the endless shit that had been keeping Do-Jin busy was finally wrapped up. Even in the game, there was nothing pressing that needed to be handled right this second. He had already gotten used to fighting in sync with Anemone, and with more time spent side by side, that part would sort itself out anyway. He figured it was finally time to deal with the one chore he had been putting off again and again.

I should finally knock out these damn Adventurer Class Advancement Quests.

He had already hit Level 97, yet his adventurer rank was still sitting at 10 as if it was an intentional joke. However, it was only because he hadn’t bothered to touch a single one of the mandatory Adventurer Class Advancement Quests until now.

Do-Jin had butchered more monsters than he could count and squeezed every reward out of the records stored in his adventurer pendant, so the contribution points were stacked sky-high. But just like any other game, this world built a wall of “mandatory quests” to throttle progress.

“Welcome, adventurer. How may I help you?” the clerk greeted politely as Do-Jin stepped into the guild and headed straight for the Rank 10 counter.

“I’d like to take on an advancement quest,” Do-Jin said, placing his pendant on the counter.

The clerk accepted it with a kind smile. “Of course. You’ll need to have reached a certain level of contribution through monster subjugations before you can proceed. Allow me to confirm your eligibility.”

As she spoke, she placed his pendant onto the terminal. The device chimed as it reacted, projecting the information stored inside.

Wait, what the...? Why is his Rank 10 contribution score like this?

Her eyes widened. The amount was insane, enough to qualify him for Rank 7 outright. For a moment she wondered if the system had glitched, so she lifted the pendant and set it back down again several times. The numbers never changed.

Even if he is a Regenian, is it really possible to accumulate contribution this fast?

She knew Regenians grew faster than most, but this was flat-out ridiculous. He had only signed up with the guild a short while ago, and his score was already stacked this high. She forced her breathing to even out. Whether she was shocked or not, the job had to be done right. There was no room for mistakes, especially not in front of someone this far above the usual tenth-rank rabble.

Adventurers like this are the reason people get to sleep at night without monsters tearing through their doors. With that thought, she placed the pendant back into Do-Jin’s hand.

“Adventurer, judging from your contribution, it looks like you’ve hunted an incredible number of monsters. You have more than fulfilled the requirements. You are eligible for advancement up to Rank 7.”

The clerk’s expression tightened with regret as she continued speaking. “Unfortunately, under guild regulations, it isn’t possible to skip intermediate ranks. You will need to complete the Rank 9 Adventurer Class Advancement Quest first, and then proceed step by step.”

“That’s fine,” Do-Jin said without hesitation, already knowing how the process worked.

Adventurer Class Advancement was broken into three stages. The first was meeting the conditions by stacking contribution points. The second was clearing subjugation quests where the guild specified a number of monsters to be hunted. The last was the actual advancement quest issued directly by the guild, each one randomized depending on what was needed at the time, often in the form of special assignments or dispatch missions.

This already feels like a pain in the ass.

He’d delayed it so long that doing it now felt like more trouble than it was worth. Still, it had to be done. Even the most overpowered characters got treated like trash if their adventurer rank was too low.

“Adventurer, I will assign you the subjugation quest for Rank 9 advancement. The monsters you are required to hunt are Long-Tusk Orcs. The number is 500,” the clerk said.

Do-Jin’s face froze as the words registered.

“What?” he muttered.

Of all the possible assignments, it had to be this one. Long-Tusk Orcs were practically nonexistent, so hunting five hundred of them could take days, maybe even longer. This was known as one of the worst pulls in the Rank 9 Adventurer Class Advancement pool, the kind of quest that made adventurers slam their heads against a wall.

Damn it... I knew this was going to be annoying, but this is complete bullshit.