A week.
That was the time Lee Shin had been given by Lee Sang-byeok before being dispatched to the guild.
It should have been a period packed with research, planning, and inspections.
Yet, strangely enough, Lee Shin had been far more relaxed than expected.
“W-What is all this...?”
“It’s the guild work you've always dreamed of. Anyway, I’m counting on you.”
A truly great boss knows how to assess a subordinate’s abilities, place them where they belong, and squeeze out the maximum results.
The Chae Dong-ha Lee Shin knew was a genius who was already prepared.
He had no doubt Dong-ha could handle this much.
Go, Dongha-mon!
And in reality, Chae Dong-ha was meeting Lee Shin’s expectations perfectly, handling every necessary task one after another.
Of course, that didn’t mean Lee Shin was simply fooling around.
He wasn’t busy physically, but in some ways he was handling work that was even more important—and exhausting.
Securing funds and seeking investments.
“You broke your confinement without saying a word to me... ignored the reporting system and negotiated directly with the Chairman... did everything however you wanted... and now you’re asking me for investment?”
“Probably.”
“Did you take drugs again?”
The money promised by Chairman Lee Sang-byeok was already sufficient.
But the more money, the better, wasn't it?
After being forced to undergo a drug test due to a minor misunderstanding, Lee Shin had a constructive conversation with Vice Chairman Lee Young-bin, the owner of this body's title of father.
As a result, he secured a fairly generous investment.
Well, if the outcome was good, then everything was fine.
The only thing he couldn't stop was a supervisor being attached to him.
He accepted that readily.
In fact, he even requested that if they were going to assign one, they should send someone competent.
Thus, after a short but productive week, the day finally arrived.
A car sped down the highway.
Every vehicle seemed desperate to get ahead by even a single second.
Accelerators were pressed down relentlessly.
RPMs soared.
Yet amid that fierce competition, one space remained unusually relaxed.
A vehicle whose mere existence discouraged overtaking.
The Rolls-Royce Phantom carrying Lee Shin.
“I’m telling you, this was the right answer. Ferrari, Porsche, Lamborghini—I don't need any of them. A man needs a sedan. Right, Dong-ha hyung?”
“This really is a car for the top 0.1%... The ride quality is definitely different. It feels like the road itself is sliding beneath us.”
“Wait until you see the exit presence. It's even crazier. Oh! There's a refrigerator here too. Want a cola?”
“By the way, Young Master.”
“CEO.”
“...Ahem. CEO, you're unusually excited today. This is your own car, yet you sound like you're riding it for the first time.”
“I am riding it for the first time.”
His memory wasn't the only thing that had been reset.
When Lee Shin woke up in this body, the previous owner had already lost his driver's license after a spectacular drunk-driving incident.
As a result, he had spent his days staring helplessly at a garage filled with supercars he'd never even driven.
“So you should thank that noona too. She’s working hard because of you, hyung.”
“Why are we suddenly talking about me?”
“Because you don't have a license!”
“When have I ever said I wasn't grateful? I really am thankful. Thanks to her, we're traveling comfortably.”
Chae Dong-ha awkwardly thanked the woman behind the wheel.
No response came back.
The woman didn't even glance at him.
Embarrassed, Dong-ha scratched the side of his head.
Lee Shin immediately seized the opportunity to tease him.
“Heh. Look at that. Talking to her because she's pretty. I didn't think you were that kind of guy, hyung. You're sneakier than I expected.”
“N-No! What do you mean sneaky? I was just greeting her!”
“Sure, sure. But as your younger brother, let me give you some advice. Don't approach her unless you're fully prepared. She's much scarier than she looks.”
Lee Shin could see it.
The number floating above the woman's head.
The fact that a status window and numbers appeared meant only one thing.
She was an Awakened.
That's right.
The woman was the observer assigned by the Vice Chairman.
Perhaps because her role was to report Lee Shin's actions without injecting any personal opinion, she completely blocked off emotional interaction and rarely spoke.
A grin spread across Lee Shin's face.
“Grandfather uses his grandson like a pawn on a chessboard, and Father plants a blade beneath his son's throat. What a wonderful family, huh, hyung?”
“I'll pretend I didn't hear that.”
“You didn't deny it.”
“Cough...”
“Let's stop the small talk. We've got a headache to deal with.”
“That's true...”
Although the wording was somewhat extreme, Lee Shin wasn't wrong.
If the Vice Chairman had placed a blade beneath his neck by assigning a watcher, Chairman Lee Sang-byeok was tormenting him no less.
Perhaps even more.
Who would have guessed that among all the guilds available, he would send him to that one?
Lee Shin smiled bitterly.
“Mir Guild... I didn't think the old man was the grudge-holding type.”
Mir Guild.
A prestigious guild based in Busan.
Regardless of its current performance, it was a fascinating organization in many ways.
First, sixty years ago, when Guild War Korea League was founded, Mir Guild had been one of the original twenty founding guilds.
Second, in that very first season, it had won the inaugural championship, turning Busan into a city famous for Hunters.
History.
Tradition.
Meaning.
It possessed all the foundations a prestigious guild could ask for.
But here's the funny part.
That's all it had.
That's it!
What did that mean?
Remove the history, tradition, and symbolism, and there was absolutely nothing left.
“But you already knew, didn't you? It perfectly matches the conditions you described before.”
“Me? What conditions?”
“When we first met. A once-great regional guild that has fallen. Heavy debt. Terrible talent pool.”
“That's as far as I imagined. How was I supposed to know it was this bad?”
Who could have guessed they would hand him a guild that should have already been dissolved?
Chae Dong-ha opened the report he had prepared.
“One championship. Just one.
The season after their title win, they were immediately relegated.
They bounced between League 1 and League 2.
Then on their fortieth anniversary, they shockingly dropped to League 3.
After years of moving up and down, they're now in League 4.”
“Whew. That's one brutal downward graph. I'd faint if it were a stock chart.”
“Guess you've never invested in stocks. At this level of decline, it'd be delisted.”
Exactly as it appeared.
Mir Guild's performance had crashed straight through rock bottom and into the planet's core.
Now they were barely surviving in League 4.
Considering their history and legacy, it was truly tragic.
How could an organization collapse this badly?
The more Dong-ha thought about it, the sharper his tone became.
“The guild's management is a disaster. Their main sponsor disappeared ages ago. Even the smaller sponsors seem to have abandoned them.”
“What about funding? What's keeping them alive?”
“Broadcast rights and season tickets, apparently. But that's the strange part.”
League 4 broadcasting rights weren't worth much.
Television stations weren't charities.
Why would they pay significant money for a fourth-division raid team?
That meant most of the guild's revenue came from season tickets.
But the same question applied.
Who would buy season tickets for a fourth-division guild?
“Yet people do. Mir Guild has an abnormally high season-ticket purchase rate.”
“Heh. That's what's funny about them.”
Honestly, Mir Guild's finances were bad.
No, "bad" wasn't even enough.
They were hopeless.
Yet somehow, revenue kept coming in.
Despite having no major merchandise sales or special business model, they had survived for decades in the brutal league ecosystem.
That was impossible unless they had some sort of emergency food supply hidden away.
And yet nothing improved.
They were always starving.
Which meant—
“...There's a 99% chance money is leaking out somewhere in the middle.”
And that meant—
“This is clearly a failure of the front office.”
“You've reached that conclusion already? Not wrong.”
“Don't you think so?”
“This is your time to talk. It's interesting. Keep going.”
Though briefly hesitant at Lee Shin's indifferent attitude, Dong-ha continued.
History and tradition weren't worthless.
Even without results, sixty years of accumulated social infrastructure was an asset money couldn't buy.
If utilized properly, the guild's finances should never have reached this level of ruin.
That was Chae Dong-ha's conclusion.
“So if this isn't incompetence from the front office, what is?”
“Not wrong.”
“And that's not all. Their personnel management is just as bad.”
The funny thing was that despite being incompetent, the front office was unnecessarily bloated.
A League 4 guild should tighten its belt.
That was common sense.
Yet Mir Guild was somehow maintaining the same administrative scale it had possessed during its League 2 days.
“They should cut those costs and invest elsewhere. Strengthen the roster if they want results. Reinvest if they want business growth.
But look at them.
Everything is half-finished.
Recruitment.
Business.
Everything.
Can you even call this a guild?”
“Let me see.”
Lee Shin took the report from Dong-ha's hands.
It was the roster of Hunters.
Photos and basic information filled the pages.
A smile spread across his face.
He knew every single one of them.
He nodded.
This really was the Mir Guild he knew.
The Dragon in Intensive Care.
“What do you think about these guys?”
“You mean Captain Yang Pan-seok and the raid team?”
“Yeah. Curious about your opinion.”
Dong-ha answered after calming down somewhat.
“They aren't top-tier.
Objectively speaking, they're below average.
Compared to their prime years, maybe average or slightly above average, but age has clearly diminished their abilities.
That said, compared to ordinary Hunters.
Considering they're in League 4, they're still more than capable of doing their jobs.”
“Even Yang Pan-seok?”
“I was getting to him.
Yang Pan-seok has a good reputation both as a person and as a Hunter.
The fact that he stayed here as a guild legend despite having opportunities to move higher proves that.”
“Oh? That's high praise.”
“While researching him, I realized something...
He's actually a very admirable Hunter.
The fans don't call him a legend for nothing.
He's too good a person for Mir Guild.”
Thus came Dong-ha's conclusion.
A raid team that wasted its prime due to an incompetent front office.
A guild already on the downward slope.
The golden time had passed long ago.
“To be honest, I don't even know why this guild is still alive.”
At that moment, Lee Shin smiled.
“Want me to tell you?”
“...You know?”
“Of course.”
The reason Mir Guild was still breathing despite its terrible management and disastrous results was simple.
“The fans.”
The ones keeping oxygen flowing into the Dragon in Intensive Care weren't the executives.
They were the fans.
On Korea's largest guild community, Guild Korea—or Gilco—the Mir Gallery was noisy as always.
"Dragon Fan" was the nickname for Mir supporters.
A twenty-year fan had announced his departure.
In short, he was completely disappointed by yet another failed promotion campaign.
I didn't ask for much.
League 3.
Not League 1. Not even League 2.
Just League 3.
I've bought expensive season tickets for twenty years and supported them, only for them to make that ridiculous mistake at the end.
Damn it.
I don't even want to talk about it anymore.
If I ever support this garbage guild again, I'm not human.
Most League 4 teams didn't even have active galleries.
Mir Guild, however, had maintained a thriving fan community since its founding.
And as always, thousands of enraged Dragon Fans swarmed the comments.
└ Congratulations. You have acquired intelligence.
└ I'm already doomed. At least save yourself.
└ I've been a fan for ten years because my dad was. Ten years is enough to change mountains and rivers. Why hasn't my guild changed?
└ It's so unfair. They're the ones failing, so why are we suffering?
└ Seriously. I became a fan because of my mom. Why am I being punished?
└ When will we ever be happy?
Then, as if by agreement, everyone's anger focused on one target.
└ Screw the front office.
└ They're just incompetent.
└ I want to work for Mir's front office in my next life. Do nothing and collect a paycheck. Easy money.
Eight years.
They hadn't even smelled League 3 in eight years.
At this point, change should have been common sense.
Instead, the front office continued doing absolutely nothing.
And every year they still shouted:
"This year is different!"
The fans had only one thing left to believe in.
└ Pan-seok-nim...
└ Pan-seok, thank you. And sorry.
The man who devoted his youth to protecting the falling Mir Guild.
Mir's Guardian Dragon.
Mir's Legend.
Yang Pan-seok.
He was the only thing they still believed in.
...
“What do you mean there's no roster reinforcement?!”
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