Capitalist Monster Hunter - Chapter 10

Rest (2)

“Hey, there’s no chance I’ll get screwed over from this memory implant thing, right?”

[The procedure failure rate for memory implantation is only 2%, User Han Yuseong. Please don’t worry.]

“What does that 2% cover exactly?”

[In the rare cases of failure, the brain might overload and… melt.]

Eve said this about a brain-melting risk with such casual indifference.

[Don’t worry. As I said, the failure rate is only 2%.]

“Right… 2%. So, it won’t fail, right?… Right?”

[Absolutely.]

Even though he still felt a bit uneasy, he decided to let it go for now. It was time to settle things up.

“Titania? Can you hear me?”

[Who are you talking to?]

Yuseong muttered to himself, and Eve gave him a curious look.

Eve, the AI, didn’t exactly have a face, but the lens of the drone she was in shifted in a way that almost looked like an expression.

It was a few moments after he’d called for Titania when a cluster of light started to take form, revealing Titania.

“Yuseong!”

She greeted him with a bright smile. Yuseong, on the other hand, could only think of the trouble this tiny fairy had put him through.

“You’ve earned a ton of points! That’s amazing!”

“I earned a lot of points?”

“Yes! You’ve gathered close to 100,000 points! It’s only been about a month since you became a hunter, but you’re already doing so well!”

“Hm… Really?”

“Yes! Would you like to take a look?”

Titania displayed a system window in front of Yuseong.

[Han Yuseong]

Strength: F+

Agility: F+

Stamina: F

Magic: Unranked

Internal Energy: Unranked

[Skills: None]

[Points: 98,500]

“98,500 points?”

Just like Titania said, his points were close to 100,000.

“No way I earned that many points.”

The only thing he’d actually defeated was a croaches He didn’t know how many points a croaches was worth, but it definitely couldn’t have been enough to get him this much.

While wondering where these points had come from, Yuseong remembered the donation mission success messages that had popped up.

‘That’s when it happened.’

Preoccupied with the croaches, he hadn’t even really looked at them at the time, but tons of pop-ups had appeared. That had to be it.

[<Squire’s Longsword>

<10 Lower Random Boxes>

<Body-Enhancing Potion>
<120 Lower Health Potions>

<100 Lower Mana Potions>

<Three Talents Sword Style> <Three Talents Cultivation Technique>
<Rough Set—Longsword, Dark Robe, Boots> acquired.]

In addition to points, his inventory was full of items he’d never seen before.

“Why are there so many potions?”

There were especially a lot of potions. They might be lower-tier, but there were over a hundred health and mana potions.

Yuseong was impressed by the wealth of gods and spirits.

“So if I go to the shop and buy some mana techniques or spellbooks, I’ll be able to use powers too?”

“Of course!”

Finally, things were starting to fall into place. It felt like the wheels that had gone off-track were finding their way back.

[So this is that support fairy User Han Yuseong was talking about?]

“Yes! I’m Yuseong’s support fairy! But who are you?”

[Over here.]

Not knowing where Eve’s voice was coming from, Titania looked around and eventually turned to the drone Eve was in. She let out a shriek.

“Ah! Are you trapped inside a magic tool? I’ll get you out!”

[I’ll pass, thank you. If this drone breaks, I’ll have to return to my inconvenient old device.]

“Yuseong, who is this person?”

Titania asked Yuseong curiously while she fiddled with the drone.

“An AI that helps me out. Think of her as kind of like a support fairy, like you.”

“What? A support fairy? Don’t abandon me! I promise I won’t mess up again! Wahh!”

Titania’s face fell when he called Eve a support fairy. She looked so pitiful that Yuseong decided to tease her for a bit.

“You’ve made so many mistakes that I decided it’s time to change my support fairy.”

“No, please! If I get fired, my friends will make fun of me. I promise I’ll do better. Really! I won’t mess up again. Please don’t get rid of me. Sob…”

Her wings drooped as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked like she was about to cry at the slightest nudge, and Yuseong started to feel a bit guilty.

“So you’re not going to mess up again, right?”

“Yes! Yes! I won’t mess up! Please don’t fire me!”

“If you mess up next time, that’ll be the end of it. I’m giving you one last chance.”

When he said he’d let her off this time, her face lit up again. Her wings perked back up, fluttering as if they were a dog’s tail. Yuseong couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Titania then glanced over at Eve in the drone and gave a victorious look.

“I won!”

[…?]

Whatever it was, it seemed like Titania felt she’d won.

“Yuseong! Why don’t you try opening one of the random boxes?”

“Random box?”

“Yes! Even though they’re lower-tier, if you’re lucky, you could get a super rare item! The chances are less than 0.1%, though!”

Yuseong didn’t love hearing that last part, but he decided to let it go. He pulled up his inventory and took out a random box. It was easy to retrieve items from the inventory.

This system was designed very conveniently for hunters, so all he had to do was think about taking out the box, and it appeared in front of him.

“This is a random box? It’s smaller than I thought.”

“The box’s size doesn’t matter. What’s important is what’s inside. Even a giant battle golem could come out of that tiny box!”

According to Titania, the size of the box didn’t determine the contents. They’d probably enchanted it or added some special ability.

“Never thought I’d be opening a random box in real life.”

Yuseong had never been a fan of systems like this.

Though he was usually busy with work, he sometimes played games—like mobile or online computer games.

Those two systems with “random” in their names were truly garbage. They’d put up these huge ads boasting rare items that were nearly impossible to get, but in reality, the chance of actually getting those items was usually just 1% or even less. And the majority of the stuff you’d actually get from random boxes or pulls? Absolute trash—useless junk, mostly.

Yet, people still threw money at them as their lives depended on it, chasing those paper-thin odds. And the reason was simple: because now and then, someone managed to beat those crazy odds and actually pulled a rare item.

There were generally three types of people who managed to score a rare item in these kinds of systems.

First, the big spenders.

These people were the ones who would pour huge amounts of cash into random boxes, knowing full well the items might never even show up. Honestly, respect the commitment. They just kept spending until they got what they wanted. But even they had a limit to their wallets. Strangely enough, though, it always seemed like right when they were about to give up, the item would magically appear. Yuseong figured the game companies probably had some kind of sneaky algorithm set up to make that happen.

You might wonder how Yuseong knew this so well when he barely had enough left over from his own paycheck each month. Well, his own boss fits this category perfectly. The guy hated grinding even in games, so he didn’t mind dropping money just to make things easier. He had a budget set aside for in-game purchases every month. Every time he’d almost give up on an item, it’d somehow pop up, and he’d go right back to the game, happy as ever. Watching this, Yuseong figured the companies must have designed an algorithm just for moments like that.

Second, you had the seriously lucky ones.

These were the people who somehow managed to pull off a rare item, dumb luck. They’d use currency in the game for a random pull and, boom, they’d get something rare. Then they’d go and show it off on a gaming forum, which would cause a whole stir online.

When they posted these “lucky pulls,” it made some people feel jealous, some angry, and others totally motivated.

“Wait, that guy got it without spending a dime?”

“Then maybe I can, too?”

“Maybe if I spend some money, I’ll get it even faster?”

People who saw these posts would start to get ideas, and some would actually act on them. Even though there was no guarantee they’d have the same luck.

And the third category? The really shady types.

These were the game company employees or insiders who tampered with the data to get rare items. Hard to believe, but Yuseong had read about it online.

In one case, a user who’d spent millions to win a game was so fed up with not getting anything rare that he posted a complaint.

“Does anything rare actually come out of these random boxes?”

“I’ve never seen anyone actually pull a rare item.”

“I’ve spent millions myself and still got nothing.”

To defend themselves, the game company posted proof showing accounts that had pulled rare items, claiming, “Yes, you can get rare items. The chances are just low.” But another user, suspicious of the listed accounts, looked up the usernames and discovered they were all connected to game employees or their friends. When it was exposed, it caused a huge scandal.

Seeing things like this so often had only made Yuseong hate the random system even more. The idea of wasting money on something where you didn’t even know if you’d get anything good? He despised it.

Not at all, because the few times he’d splurged on random boxes, he hadn’t gotten what he wanted.

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely not.