A job where you do what other people can’t do themselves.
But if someone can’t do something personally, chances are good it’s not something anyone should be doing.
Just like that wedding job—it ended up causing trouble in the end.
It was lucky she’d been able to cut ties with that stunt thanks to a fake ID.
But now she couldn’t even do that anymore.
“I could get another fake identity and keep working as a fixer…”
But that ID had taken ten years of effort to get.
Getting another one was impossible.
Giving up early was smarter.
So this time, she decided to try something else—
the most ordinary, safest method in the world.
“I’m thinking of becoming a regular employee. I want a job that pays 500 gold a month.”
The cat’s face crumpled.
And no wonder—500 gold was like a high‑level executive’s salary in Korea.
Here, it was more money than a normal person would ever see in a lifetime.
But Riana just blinked innocently and asked,
“Still, I don’t know anyone in this city, so finding a job won’t be easy, will it?”
“……”
The cat didn’t even answer.
Of course it wouldn’t be easy—why even ask?
But Riana didn’t care. She just poked at the burning fake ID in the fireplace with a poker and hummed,
“If only someone would hand me a list of employers looking for workers…”
Like an old job site, or some old classified listings.
Tsk. They have fruit shops and restaurants, but no job boards?
“Hey, cat, do you know anyone named ‘Job’ with the last name ‘Korea’?”
Not even a smart cat could answer that.
“Who’s that? And even if I knew, you’re the human—you’d have to find out yourself.”
“You’re still the smartest one I know.”
“I’m the only one you know.”
“…Fair enough.”
Riana set down the poker and lunged at her only friend.
The cat, sensing she was about to grab his paws, slipped away smoothly.
“Good night, Riana,” he murmured softly, curling up on a high shelf where she couldn’t reach.
“You too.”
Riana smiled faintly and whispered into the night air,
“Good night.”
The next day, Riana went out to Street No. 11 to figure out what kind of story this world was running on.
But she didn’t find much.
“What is this place, really?”
No clues about the story—just things like Romicube the Accountant’s Office.
All she learned was that the author had terrible naming sense.
“Should I keep looking? What do you think—oh.”
She stopped mid‑question.
The cat wasn’t with her.
He’d vanished that morning without a word, as he often did. A mysterious cat like him didn’t need worrying over.
What mattered now was the story. And—
“—a job.”
She was still thinking that when she stepped into the square and saw a big noticeboard covered in flyers.
One in particular caught her eye:
A little paradise just for you—Spes Island!
Join the auction and claim your future.
If you dream of peaceful retirement on fertile, farmable land, come to the Gelon Auction on December 1st.
Includes villa. Boat sold separately.
Two months from now.
Riana looked around, then quickly pulled down the poster and rolled it up, tucking it away.
Not because she needed it—she knew every detail by heart, right down to the little shape of the coastline.
But still…
Fewer competitors can only help.
She thought of how much of her hard‑earned money had gone into that relic restoration fund and felt tears sting her eyes.
Clutching her collar tight, she sighed and walked away.
Just as she was leaving the noticeboard, an idea struck her.
“I could make people bring me the job listings!”
Her eyes lit up.
She didn’t need to know the original story.
She’d just make them come to her.
I’ll advertise and make them deliver it!
She hurried to a stationery shop and bought paper, pens, and ink.
She was going to make a flyer no one in this city could ignore.
The cat, able to talk and find her anywhere, eventually tracked her down.
But this wasn’t the inn from before.
“What is this place?”
It was a bare square studio on the second floor of a building on Street No. 11.
Clearly not meant for lodging.
Well, not completely bare—the floor was covered in clutter.
Paper? Ink?
Sheets were scattered everywhere. Ink stains dotted the floor.
And in the middle, Riana was hunched over, pen in hand.
“…What’s going on here?”
“Oh, you’re back!”
She looked up and began chattering excitedly.
“I rented an office! I’m making business flyers. Be careful where you step—they’re still drying.”
“…Flyers for what?”
Lying flat on the floor, pen still in hand, she looked back at him with eyes blazing with determination.
“A business!”
A business. And everyone knows in these kinds of stories, a transmigrator’s business is destined to boom.
She’d even invested a chunk of her remaining money to rent this studio.
The cat’s furry little face tightened with worry.
“What are you trying to pull now…”
But Riana didn’t explain.
She didn’t have to.
Because soon the whole capital would know.
“Did you see that flyer?”
A gentleman at brunch on Street No. 11 asked his companions.
The man beside him, puffing on a cigarette, shook his head.
“You mean that flashy one everyone’s talking about? No, they were all gone by the time I looked.”
“I only heard about it secondhand,” another added.
Then a younger man perked up.
“I managed to get one! Want to see?”
Everyone already knew the gist, but they all leaned in eagerly.
Ranked #1 by Fosb
The continent’s best employment agency!
Visit Madam Midas’s Employment Office—Street No. 11, Building 18B, 2nd floor.
“Ohhh, so this is it…”
“Incredible.”
The gentlemen chatted animatedly around the flyer, unaware that the woman passing by with a fan hiding her smile was Riana herself.
I knew this would work.
She hadn’t figured out the world’s plot, but with just a few local “rules” she’d made this plan work.
Holly Golightly, Ashley Kings, Monopoly, Jenga…
In this world, names carry weight.
So if you borrow a few famous ones from Earth, you can fake any reputation you want.
Now, people who needed workers would contact her.
All she had to do was write them down.
Who needs JobKorea when you’ve got this?
And without screens or blue light, too.
Let’s see what other reactions I can find…
Sure enough, in a nearby café:
“Oh my, ranked highest by Fosb? That’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“I… don’t mean to sound ignorant, but… what is Fosb?”
“If they’re praising such a famous agency, they must be reliable!”
“Ahh, I see!”
And so a magazine that didn’t even exist—Fosb—was treated as real, and Madam Midas’s reputation skyrocketed.
Within just three days, parcels piled up in the studio.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the capital, behind the walls of a massive duke’s estate—
“Please! Just let me see him! Let me see the Duke!”
A maid in tears was being dragged out by the guards, crying out desperately:
“I love him! I love the Duke!”
“Tsk, tsk… completely mad.”
As she was thrown out of the gates, onlookers clicked their tongues.
“Another one?”
“How many does that make?”
“Count all the maids who’ve served the Duke at night. That’s how many.”
It was true. Every maid who had ever served the sleepless Duke at night ended up exactly like her.
“What on earth is going on in that east tower every night…?”
“As if anything had to happen for them to fall for him.”
At that moment, the office door opened.
Clear footsteps echoed as the man himself emerged, and the sheer presence of him drew every gaze.
