It’s a fascinating scene.
Elder Kim Changhwan and the landlord grandpa are sitting face-to-face, negotiating.
“Young friend here does research, so please take good care of him.”
“Oh, yes, yes, Elder. Ah, the bachelor in 202. Don’t worry about what you were fretting over. Is he your grandson?”
It feels pretty solid.
Elder Kim Changhwan stepped in for my studio apartment deal too.
I’m not exactly sure on the details, but simply put, he made it so that if I pay the landlord grandpa gold and cash matching the building’s value, the title and rights transfer to me in a straightforward transaction.
The catch is that it’s a below-market deal to help with the landlord’s tax evasion.
He said he’d buy it himself and gift it to me, handling the taxes that way.
I was actually anxious about whether I should accept a full eight hundred million.
But—letting him walk again, go to the bathroom alone, chew meat, kidnap his son-in-law(?), make the kidnapped son-in-law forget it—all that.
He said the favors I’ve done him are worth at least fifteen hundred million in market value.
“If someone saved this money for me, it’d be enough to offer to God. But to me, Teacher, you are God. I mean it.”
He praised me to that level, including proxy kidnapping and rescue.
I figured I deserved it, so I just let it be.
Even the North Korean nuclear crisis he fears—I might actually resolve it(??)—so I’ll accept it as political support funds or something.
CatMan said he’d bring a nuke if I asked.
On top of that, since I was already buying the building anyway and he had nothing better to do, he stepped up.
With his intelligence buff, Elder Changhwan knows plenty of money tricks and is sharp-minded—totally reliable.
“Ah, yes. It worked out well.”
“Don’t mention it. I find I see eye-to-eye with that friend too. I’ve been quietly passing gold and cash along myself. Skipping Kyungsuk and giving it straight to the grandkids feels right.”
“That makes sense. Better than opening the coffin lid.”
“You heard that?”
While beating his son-in-law with a bat, Elder Kim Changhwan softened at one wailing question.
“Father, just tell me how you improved so much! You can kill me, but if I know that, at least I can leave behind a treatment method before I die!”
In response, the elder said, “When I croak, crack open my skull,” and stopped the bat.
That line stuck with me, so I asked.
“But doesn’t that mean he’s still hoping?”
“The money I have now could help a researcher like you, Teacher. But after I die, this body is just rotting flesh with no value. Still, if that bastard achieves a breakthrough in what he’s researched his whole life using my body… would he let Kyungsuk starve?”
The bastard’s actions are disgusting.
I worried he might end up disposing of a corpse, but even after the beating, it seems he’s not cutting ties completely.
From what he says, Elder Kim actually plans to let them open his skull after death.
“Is that so. You did well.”
I was ready to step in if it looked like corpse disposal—stop him or heal as needed—but he just delivered a solid beating and quit.
“A man of wealth needs leisure. His in-laws’ side lost someone to a similar illness, so at least the desire to treat it is genuine. That’s why he’d want to open my skull too.”
“That’s a bit grim.”
“Anyway, I’ll handle things so no one can dispute the money while I have time left. I’ll also connect you to that influential figure who’s involved in politics and business. Prepare some blue sikhye. I’ll contact you when the effects wear off.”
“You’ll be okay on your own?”
Elder Changhwan flexes his biceps as he says it.
“No steroid could make someone this strong. I’ll be fine. I should spend time with the grandkids, play Santa. Eat whatever I want too.”
“Yes, that’s right. It’s getting cold.”
All done.
“Did it come in?”
“Ah, yes, it did.”
***
Money arrived from the former landlord grandpa.
This isn’t payback for helping with tax evasion—it’s the current tenants’ deposits.
I thought deposits were uniform, but ones taken after March are slightly lower.
Probably discounted to avoid vacancies.
“I’ll stay a few more days before moving out. I need time to pack too. And the top-floor management office isn’t much use, so use one of the first-floor commercial spaces as a management office, or build a separate one in the first-floor residence. 101 is vacating right away this winter.”
“Ah, yes.”
I’m stunned. I’m really becoming a building manager.
I do have the certification.
I once considered working as a dorm supervisor—something similar.
“For special notes, 103 still hasn’t been repapered. To repaper, she’d have to move out temporarily, but it’s exam season, so she doesn’t want to. That lady in 103 is pretty easygoing. If it goes longer, mold will grow and such.”
“I can handle that. Yes, it’ll be fine.”
“Here are the tenants’ contract periods. Take a look.”
“You wrote them by hand.”
“I’m not great with computers.”
This is important.
Tenants inherit the contracts under the law.
Tenant protection law or whatever—anyway, according to that law.
Even as the new owner, evicting them isn’t easy unless there’s clear contract violation.
The former landlord’s handwritten special notes have all sorts of things.
It feels like he made a blacklist.
“Here in 504, rent is three months overdue. I don’t know what that girl does for a living? She has money to feed a barking dog, but she goes out with heavy makeup. Looks like a night worker.”
“Ah, y-yes.”
That’s the woman with the Pomeranian.
I remember seeing her in the elevator once—wearing a low-cut top, seemed like she was heading home from work.
“No one else is seriously behind. Parents cover the rent, it seems. And 202 here has the longest contract. Three and a half years. Looks like she quit after one semester.”
“That’s true.”
Being right in front of the university gate, lots of students—some one-year contracts, but quite a few four-year ones too.
“Um… she’s not my daughter, you know.”
“Huh? Oh, ahh. Just a joke, a joke. Hahaha. Oh dear. I shouldn’t have said that.”
For 203: “Seems like he’s hiding a daughter and passing her off as a niece. Technically not allowed extra residents, but her situation is pitiable.”
What the—?
204’s note is funny too.
Repeatedly plays porn loudly, disturbing hallway peace.
“You knew but didn’t act on 204.”
“You’ll hear it yourself, right? That level of conviction is scary. Be careful.”
Ongoing thumping complaints from 202 and 201.
207 always leaves delivered water and items piled in the hallway.
406: KAIST Bahrain international student. Plays Quran and sings songs praising Bin Laden.
And so on.
“It’s mostly a mess… second floor is the worst.”
Anyway, I received the handover notes well.
The longest contract is the most recent four-year one in 202.
I thought someone who entered before second semester might have a three-and-a-half-year contract, but it’s four.
She’ll live here the longest.
Separate from me feeling bad, she’s the most annoying one—nothing to be done.
Noise-between-walls issues with 202 and 204—204’s contract ends next February anyway.
A few other rooms end in February too.
I’ll resolve 202 by moving her elsewhere, and 204 has to vacate immediately.
The lady in 103 has one more year—winter the year after next.
“This is the master key. Ah, and if you take new tenants, talk to the real estate agency starting now.”
“Yes, thank you.”
That doesn’t really matter.
I’m not planning to take more tenants anyway.
Up to the third floor, maybe not, but from the fourth upward, taking tenants and collecting rent and fees wouldn’t be bad.
I won’t decide until after collecting rent once in the February moving season and seeing the income.
“You’ll need a separate account for rent. Should I announce it?”
“That too.”
There are quite a few complicated procedures, but with my own building, I’m overwhelmed with emotion—doesn’t feel that complex.
Once I have more money and can pay compensation for early lease terminations, I’ll demolish and build a single-family house.
Or turn 203 into an escape room café style.
“Could I expand the space all the way to the hallway?”
If my room is the dungeon, expanding the combat area to the hallway would be great—as long as they can’t escape.
Ring.
“Watch out!”
Snap!
Something flew with a snap! as I entered the house—I raised my arm to block, and a red dot appeared on it.
“Ouch?! What the—? Oh no?!”
<Water Gun Fish LV50>
Again with the fish?
Should I dry them on the rooftop?
The Nightmare Queen and CatMan were battling the fish.
Small low-level fish.
Level 50 isn’t exactly low, but catching them now barely raises levels.
[These damn bastards!?]
It’s been a while since CatMan was this angry.
All the fish emerging near the gate are the same species: <Water Gun Fish>. They flop, fire a shot, then die sprawled out having lost their overhead level.
They shoot water guns at the Nightmare Queen, but the problem is that ordinary attacks just phase through her evasion.
After reassuring the Fairy Princess and Yong-gae (even if male, still Yong-gae) hiding in the bathroom behind the Nightmare Queen, I was about to join the fight.
<Guaranteed Penetration>
“Whoa?!”
Small water gun fish, but its water cannon pierces my palm.
Leaves a red dot.
Of course, Super Regeneration heals it instantly.
“Wow, the ocean really is full of mysteries.”
Naturally, as long as I don’t take the Guaranteed Penetration water gun barrage straight to the forehead, it should be fine.
Even a forehead hit—Super Regeneration repairs brain damage too, so that caliber should be okay.
Just…
“The wallpaper’s pierced, damn it?!”
With so many fish, water guns fly like machine-gun fire—soaking the room is one thing.
They’re about to punch holes in the walls, so I grabbed a fly swatter and actively smashed them.
“I just bought the building!”
They’re Lilliputian fish—the snap! trajectory of the water gun is thin, but holes in the wall could let ants burrow and make a nest.
Kyaoooong!
“Good job, CatMan.”
This time, CatMan rampaged against the level 50 fish like a bully.
He took a few penetrations—patches of fur missing here and there—but Super Regeneration will fix it.
<Guaranteed Penetration LV5>
If you acquire water magic, you can punch holes in enemies with water droplets. Hole size scales with water magic aptitude and penetration skill level.
Smashing fish with the fly swatter raised the skill.
<Guaranteed Penetration LV10>
CatMan already reached level 10 Guaranteed Penetration.
The water gun fish attacks—their small size and low level, plus my and CatMan’s Super Regeneration, and the Nightmare Queen’s evasion (not sure exactly, but charm-related) making damage light—cleaned up easily.
“Ugh, more holes. Seriously… it’s my house now. Hm.”
Multiple holes in the wallpaper—patching will be annoying, but the penetration doesn’t seem to go through to the other side.
Holes are small, so tonight I’ll turn off lights here, turn them on in 202, and check if light leaks through?
And the Sultan Boys Amin bromide, relatively close to the gate, ended up riddled with holes.
They punched holes in this handsome guy’s face like skin flaws.
Fans would rain criticism on me if they saw.
Hold on.
It’s my house now—maybe I can take it down?
Thinking about it, I left these bromides up to hide the holes I and 202 made.
From a building owner’s perspective, that doesn’t matter anymore.
The bromides worked hard.
They endured all sorts of humiliation in this corner.
So I peeled off the long-suffering Amin bromide.
“Huh?”
Wait.
What’s this?
Behind a mosquito-shaped patch hole, there was another small hole.
Big enough for one finger. It actually fits.
“I can see inside…”
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