“So. You’re saying you want me to sell this building?”
“Yes.”
The landlord grandpa rubs the back of his head as he answers.
“Hmm, that might be difficult?”
Difficult, he says.
I had expected he might not want to sell.
After all, this building has never been listed with any local realtors.
That’s why I prepared those MOUs, planning to offer above asking price if needed.
Showing him the gold was just to make him believe I’m serious.
If the contracts I signed actually bring in money, operating with ten billion won—or maybe even more—wouldn’t be impossible.
Still, I didn’t rashly offer more cash.
This is a deal, a negotiation, after all.
I need to save some for renovations, punching through walls, buying a car… all that good stuff.
“I’m offering eight billion won. Three to four billion of that in physical assets like this, the rest by bank transfer.”
“But when I saw this gold… my thoughts changed a little. How much did you say this was worth again?”
“This piece alone should be around two hundred ten million won.”
“Where on earth did you get gold like this?”
No reason to explain it came from the Box of Desire, so I brushed it off.
“I dabble a bit in overseas futures.”
“I don’t know much else, but if you give me two of these gold bars plus another two hundred million in cash, I’ll sell it to the young man.”
“Really? That only adds up to six hundred million, though? The asking prices around here weren’t even that high.”
Of course, actual sale prices can differ, but whatever the seller receives is the real price, right?
Where did I even get eight billion from?
Because there’s a building of similar size in this studio-apartment neighborhood near the university gate that sold for eight hundred million, and I just assumed mine would be the same.
Same scale, same monthly rent income, construction year only one year apart, distance from the university gate only a dozen meters different.
“Heh heh heh, do you think I’m holding onto this just to make money?”
“…Then why?”
If you’re doing charity, why collect rent at all?
“I have one son in Seoul and two daughters. But only two of the bunch are smart. The reason I don’t want to sell is that if I do, the useless ones will fight over the money and split it easily. But a building is one single thing, isn’t it? If it were eight hundred million in cash, I’d have to divide it five ways—one hundred sixty million each. But you can’t split a building five ways.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
“But if I try to pass it down later, there’s gift tax, inheritance tax, inheritance laws… They say if it’s worth eight hundred million, I’d have to cut the building into five pieces to give it away. That’s why I’ve been worrying—and if a young man like you brings me a couple of gold bars like this, I actually come out way ahead. No taxes to pay the government.”
Wow, he’s already calculating tax evasion on inheritance?
I’m a newbie who’s never even taken out a loan, worrying about how to get one, but his whole mindset is on another level.
Old folks with money really know how to work it.
Grandpa Changhwan was the same.
“All that’s left after that is paying off the remaining loan. Honestly, at that price, I’m tempted to sell.”
“Uh, no, I mean—I’m the one dying to buy it, but the way you’re putting it… Is there something wrong with the building?”
He agreed so readily that I got suspicious instead.
I was fully prepared to beg and persuade him.
“Of course there are issues. Leaks, last year we had vacancies so I took in some Indian students, ended up with bedbugs crawling everywhere, had to fumigate the hell out of it—heh heh heh, you think this is a money-maker?”
“I heard the location is great and there are no vacancies?”
“When a leak like this time happens and you fix one thing, a whole month’s rent flies out the window. So, if you have a proper job and a wife… if that wife manages the place, you could live comfortably. But once you pay taxes and maintenance, you’ll realize it doesn’t make as much money as you think. Honestly, I almost want to talk you out of it.”
It doesn’t make as much money as I think?
That doesn’t matter to me at all.
Do you think I’m doing this to get rich?
I’m doing this to protect Earth.
“Still, owning a building has always been my dream.”
“Well, it’s not the world that’s wrong for young people dreaming of living off rental income. And you seem to have suddenly ended up with a niece to take care of, so… fine, I’ll sell. If you bring the gold bars or cash, I’ll take heat from the other landlords in the neighborhood for selling cheap on paper. Take it.”
“I’ll take the whole thing.”
“Heh heh heh heh, seriously. That 203 kid said some nonsense about buying the building even though he doesn’t own a car, and now he actually shows up to buy it. Fine. I’ll even repaper 103 for you. We’ll do that and then sign the contract. A couple more gold bars that size will do.”
I did plan to buy it, but everything proceeding this smoothly left me dumbfounded.
Am I… really becoming a building owner?
***
I came to repurchase the Turning Mecard golem-control robots that got smashed in the battle with the Nightmare Queen.
Something catches my eye.
“Princess’s house… hmm.”
As long as the Fairy Princess isn’t walking around with a flowerpot on her head, anyone would think she’s a perfectly ordinary child.
I don’t know about anything else, but because of that, CatMan—who is closest to her in size—is constantly being crushed, beaten, and having his food stolen.
Come to think of it, I promised her a present.
There’s really nothing in my room right now that the Fairy Princess can properly play with.
CatMan can play rock-paper-scissors and is pretty eloquent, so I thought he could be a decent friend.
[Save me.]
I never imagined that a magical cat from the wild with super regeneration would have less stamina than a little child, but CatMan is visibly wasting away.
CatMan is a busy cat who has to meet rich people wanting to buy burn medicine.
Buying the Fairy Princess a toy once in a while wouldn’t hurt.
Plus, if tiny monsters ever show up again, it’d be nice to have a maze or structure where I can lock them away separately.
“Lt +……”
“Udadadadadada.”
[Kyaooooong.]
Looks like CatMan is being used all day as a punching bag to strengthen the Fairy Princess’s punches.
Wait, is this actually training?
They’re trading blows with their fists.
I still can’t see the Fairy Princess’s level, but according to the Nightmare Queen, even just adding up the years she lived in her previous life as a fairy queen would make her level insanely high.
“Um, Princess?”
“I’m busy!”
Ah, yes.
You do look busy.
The Fairy Princess, who was practicing swinging her fist in the exact same trajectory as Nyannyang Punch, immediately turns around, looks up at me, and smiles brightly.
“Want to play with this?”
“Eh!? Ehehehe. Thank you!”
<Gift gratitude +300>
The Fairy Princess is growing again?
Now she’s the size of a kindergarten-aged child.
That… the effect isn’t wearing off, is it?
Of course seaweed is good for pregnant women and growing children, but this is too good.
If there were seaweed that made our kid walk and run in a week, would it sell well?
The moment I barely managed to distract the princess with the toy, CatMan collapsed flat on the floor like a summer dog, belly down, hind legs stretched back.
“Why don’t you lie more like a cat?”
[I’m completely drained. What kind of human leaves childcare to an animal?]
“Uh, I want to raise my kid like a cat.”
[You want to see all my fur fall out, don’t you?]
That would be horrific.
“You there!”
The Nightmare Queen got pointed at by the Fairy Princess.
The Nightmare Queen, who was sitting on the remote control watching TV on the big screen, looks shocked to be singled out.
“Wait, why? Were you interested in me?”
This is my first time seeing this too, so I’m surprised.
“Come here!”
“Huh? Um? Ah?”
She points at the Fairy Princess in confusion, then at herself, then looks at me.
“Go to her.”
“Yes? Ah, yes. Um?”
The Nightmare Queen has no obligation to obey my every word, but she listens pretty well.
Then the Fairy Princess gives her an order too.
“Sit here!”
“Yeees? Wait, hold on…”
And so the Nightmare Queen entered the princess’s house.
And wow—her body fits perfectly in the spot where the Barbie doll used to be.
“Hm? Oh. It fits perfectly?”
The Nightmare Queen sits on the empty chair at the princess house’s reception table, and it suits her like it was made for her.
A little while later.
“…Should I just live here?”
“Um, well, the furniture fits my body perfectly. I really like this cup too. Oh, this cup as well.”
The Nightmare Queen elegantly lifts a plastic coffee cup from the princess house table…
“…That’s glued down.”
“I’m not some barbarian woman with insane strength!?”
Not only did she rip the coffee cup out, she refuses to leave the house now.
Clunk, clunk.
“What’s that sound?”
I woke up in the middle of the night because of some noise.
[I don’t know!]
***
Even the Nightmare Queen is now sleeping inside the princess’s house.
Only RiceCookerMan, the current night guard, is awake.
“Uuunnnggh.”
The family sure has grown.
When I think about it, having more talking creatures around means my room doesn’t feel like my room anymore.
Maybe I should evict 204 first, punch a hole through their wall, and install a door.
Clunk, clack.
“What now?”
It’s not the room itself, but continuous noise from the veranda side where the sink is.
Showing the landlord grandpa that gold yesterday still feels a bit iffy.
He has the master key, doesn’t he?
I did imagine him coming back for revenge with a rock after the pebble knock-out incident, trying to smash my head and steal the gold bars.
Of course I prepared—just in case—keeping valuables under my pillow.
I also prepared a separate backpack full of dollar and euro bills hidden behind the mattress.
Everything else I’ve received is in pouches.
Or maybe the 202 woman sneaked in?
She could climb in through the veranda.
I’ve committed too many sins, so I have a lot to worry about.
“It’s not the gate or monsters, right?”
[Probably not.]
This rice cooker speaks telepathically, so why is he answering so cautiously?
It could be a burglar looking for stuff to steal, but since I don’t need weapons against normal humans, I unarmedly peeked at the veranda.
There was no presence near the sink or veranda under the outside lights.
But the clinking sound kept coming—from the fridge.
…
The fridge?
“Huh? Wait, what time is it?”
2 a.m.
I should write down the exact birth date and time for fortune-telling later.
Looks like the new guest I kept in the kimchi container has hatched.
I opened the fridge.
“Ah.”
“322222”
Sure enough, a baby dragon with wings and yellow fluff—looking exactly like a beakless chick—had broken out of the Lock & Lock kimchi container and was munching on something while staring at me.
It really looks like a chick.
Is this one of those feathered dinosaurs?
Anyway, that tiny chick-like thing broke a Lock & Lock?
This one’s going to cause a lot of trouble.
“Wang, wang!”
And the baby dragon lifts its head and barks at me.
It barks pretty well?
I thought it was cute and reached out to pet it, then realized.
Dragons… bark?
Looking closer, the baby dragon had something smeared all over its mouth, and right beside it…
The weird item I had carefully wrapped and stored—“dog rice cake”—was half gone.
So the moment it was born, of all the food nearby, it ate the dog rice cake…
Right then, the level and name appeared above the baby dragon’s head.
<Dragon Dog LV22222>
Dragon Dog… probably…
It would be recorded as the son of Aja-gae, a powerful clan leader in Sangju during the Later Three Kingdoms period.
There were brothers like Neung-gae, Bo-gae—all with “gae” in their names.
But why the “gae” (dog) ending? Is “dog” the family name?
Of course not—those people were actually of the Gyeon (견) clan.
Wait, Aja-gae’s eldest son was Gyeon Hwon, right? So surname Gyeon?
Did they put surnames at the end like in the West during the Later Three Kingdoms? Maybe I should research that?
No, that’s not the point…
Not only did the dragon turn into a dog, but the remaining dog rice cake’s name had changed too.
<Dragon Dog Rice Cake> Composite item.
Dog rice cake mixed with tender dragon scales.
Even the Hermit of the Hovel couldn’t imagine dog rice cake, so no description appears.
They don’t have rice cakes in that world.
“Ang, ang!”
It really is barking like a dog.
No matter what, I can’t raise a dragon like a dog.
“What am I supposed to… do about this?”
Of all things, it had to eat the dog rice cake…
It could’ve eaten kimchi instead.
Its mom trusted me with her child.
But because it ate some mystery-effect food, not only does it act like a dog, I’m going to end up raising it on all fours, teaching it to lift one leg when it pees?
Not only would any sympathy go to the abused caretaker, even my excuses would come out as “woof woof.”