Chapter : 01
My Opportunity Is a Status Window (1)
Banghoe Clan Collector, Dancheon
Xiaoshan, Zhejiang Province.
“Come on… don’t be like that. Just give it to me.”
“Dancheon… please, just let it go this one time.”
“If the amount suddenly drops, I’m dead.”
“Business is terrible. You know we’re starving because of the drought.”
The teahouse lady was unusually stubborn today.
Understandable.
This year’s famine had hit not just Xiaoshan but all of Zhejiang hard.
I really shouldn’t let this slide…
I had already reduced the collection amount for the dumpling seller earlier.
His whole stall got blown apart during a random street fight the other day, so I cut him a break.
“Please… Dancheon, I’ll really die at this rate. I’m begging you. sob sob…”
Oh boy.
Tears now?
Sigh… this is really getting to me.
I’ve been a collector for the Banghoe Clan in this town for three years now.
Might sound insane, but…
I’ve gotten attached—to the extortion, if that makes sense.
Every day I’d go around collecting tribute, knowing even how many spoons each house owned.
Maybe squeezing isn’t always the answer.
When things are bad, give people a break.
When business improves, take a little more…
Of course—this is only my opinion.
The boss would definitely disagree.
Maybe I should at least bring it up.
What’s the worst that could happen from just mentioning it?
The boss is from Xiaoshan too, after all.
We’re all trying to survive.
“Next time, have the money ready.”
I left the teahouse under a shower of thank-yous.
I felt good about it…
But my feet were heavy walking back to the clan.
— jingle
The collection pouch was nowhere near full.
It should’ve been stuffed so thick you couldn’t grip it with one hand, but today it fit neatly in my fist.
Should I go back and collect properly now?
My knees buckled when I stood before the Banghoe gate.
Maybe this was a mistake.
He’s not going to beat me to death… right?
Still, we’ve known each other for years—
— creeeak
“Welcome back, brother!”
I stepped inside.
I nodded to the underlings sweeping the yard and headed for the main hall.
Nothing feels better than handing over the pouch early.
“Well, look who it is~ Dancheon.”
A slimy voice I hated hearing.
Akrae. Same rank, same age as me.
“Why’s your pouch so skinny?”
“None of your business.”
“Don’t tell me you pocketed some?”
“Do I look like you?”
“Then why’s your take so low?”
“There’s a famine, idiot.”
“What?”
“Famine. People are struggling to live—”
“Heheheh. You’re crazy. Hey! Boys!”
Akrae called over the boys sweeping.
“Yes, sir!”
“Looks like we’re clearing out a corpse today. Get ready.”
“Huh? A corpse, sir?”
“Yeah. Dancheon’s dying today. One collector spot opening up, so if you want the boss to notice you, work harder. Heheh.”
Son of a bitch.
I’m already nervous and he has to pull this crap?
“You make your quota?”
“Of course.”
He answered like it was nothing.
How?
My route on the left side of town, his on the right—same Xiaoshan, same drought.
“Is business better on your side?”
“Business? Listen to this soft-hearted bastard. If they don’t pay, you make sure they can’t do business. What ‘circumstances’?”
True.
That’s how we were taught.
Smash things, threaten people…
Still, I had to try.
Leaving Akrae behind, I headed to the boss’s room.
— knock knock
“It’s Dancheon.”
“Come in.”
My heart pounded like it would explode.
I stepped inside cautiously.
“Good work.”
“Yes, boss.”
The humid room reeked of sweat.
Boss Hyukseong sat bare-chested, breathing deeply—he must have been practicing martial arts.
He keeps getting stronger…
Even I could tell the pressure he gave off wasn’t normal.
Martial arts.
A ladder for rising in status.
Something punks like me weren’t allowed near.
Even the lowest-level technique would make someone invincible in a rural town like this.
Hyukseong handed everything we collected to the Hao Sect’s Zhejiang branch, and they taught him martial arts in return.
He promised that once he got good at it, he’d teach me and Akrae too…
Yeah, right.
That promise was a year ago.
He looked plenty skilled now.
But no sign of sharing.
— jingle
“…Why is this all?”
He opened the pouch, glanced in, and tossed it onto the table.
“The teahouse and the dumpling shop couldn’t pay—”
“Couldn’t pay?”
“Yes. The famine’s really hurt business—”
— WHACK
Pain shot up my shin.
He kicked me.
My leg went numb.
It hurt so badly I couldn’t even scream.
My balance vanished and I started falling backward.
My skull’s gonna crack…
I squeezed my eyes shut.
But instead of the hard floor, something cushioned me.
His foot was under my head.
Damn… he’s on a whole different level now.
He was toying with me.
Just martial arts.
One year of training and everything changed.
Hyukseong, Akrae, and I were all orphans from Pimakgol in Xiaoshan—our parents killed by Japanese pirates.
Hyukseong was seven years older, so we followed him, but ever since I turned 17, I was taller and the better fighter.
When we took over the Banghoe Clan, Akrae and I did all the fighting. Hyukseong was just the face.
But after he learned martial arts…
The pressure we felt suddenly made sense.
“A… Apologies.”
“Right?”
“Yes.”
“Collectors don’t give people breaks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did the famine skip only your route?”
“…Sir?”
“Akrae brought in full amount, you brat.”
— THUD
A kick to the stomach.
“GUH!”
Like a hole was punched through me.
Dry heaves tore up my throat.
He didn’t even kick that hard.
Still—unbearable.
“Dancheon.”
I needed to answer, but I couldn’t breathe.
Just a little more time—
— SLAP!
“Dancheon.”
He started slapping me.
My cheek burned.
— SLAP!
“Dancheon, you bastard!”
At least he wasn’t using inner strength—just brute force.
Though my face was probably a mess.
“S—sorry… boss.”
Finally my mouth worked.
Breathing got easier.
“Since we suffered together from Pimakgol, I’ll give you one more chance.”
“Y-yes…”
“You know how to do it.”
“Y… yes.”
“You want another chance?”
“Yes.”
“Then go again. Now.”
— jingle
He walked over, grabbed the pouch, and handed it to me.
“I’ll be right back.”
My legs shook, but I forced myself up.
If I didn’t go now, I might die here.
I was only twenty.
Too young for a pointless death.
I clenched my teeth and grabbed the pouch.
The teahouse again.
“A—ah… Dancheon, what happened to your face—”
— CRASH!
I hurled a teacup against the wall.
“Shut it and give me the money.”
“You said—you’d let it go—just earlier—”
“Do I look fine to you?! Hand it over.”
“D-Dancheon… I’m sorry, but—”
“For fuck’s sake. Move. I’ll get it myself.”
No more pity.
No money means I die.
“No! Dancheon! Please—”
She tried grabbing me as I went behind the counter.
I sighed and shoved her away.
“Ahh!”
Two grown men couldn’t stop me. A teahouse lady stood no chance.
She tumbled to the floor.
“Where’s the money?”
I opened every drawer.
Nothing but useless notes and doodles.
“Where is it?!”
“There isn’t any!”
Her hair wild, she screamed.
The kettle!
Her eyes flicked—just a little—to the decorated kettle.
I saw it.
“Here?”
“NOOO!”
I lunged and grabbed it.
She shrieked and tried to snatch it back.
— jingle
Coins.
Enough to cover my quota.
“Well well. You did have money.”
“Not that! If you take that, my family starves!”
She latched onto my arm with all her strength.
“Argh!”
Realizing force wouldn’t work, she sank her teeth into my forearm.
“You crazy bitch!”
I whipped my arm on instinct.
Her head slammed into a pillar.
— THUD
Blood trickled down her neck.
But there was no choice.
“If I don’t take it, I die.”
I tossed the words at her fading eyes.
— clatter
I dumped the coins into my pouch.
Nice and heavy.
Next—dumpling shop.
“See? If you try, you can do it, yeah?”
“Yes.”
Hyukseong examined the pouch and grinned.
“Dancheon.”
“Yes, boss.”
“If you keep working while worrying about sob stories, you’ll end up back in Pimakgol. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Just wait a bit longer. I’ll teach you martial arts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re frustrated I haven’t taught you yet, right?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie, you brat. Hahaha. I’m just not good enough to pass it on yet. Once I get better, I’ll teach you and Akrae.”
“Yes, sir.”
Is this what they call false hope?
Akrae still believed.
But I doubted Hyukseong intended to teach anyone.
“You can go.”
I bowed and left.
The boys avoided my eyes.
Home was the only safe place.
Half a block down a back alley, my precious room waited.
Damp, cold, but comfortable enough.
Except today, someone sat inside.
“…Who the hell… I mean, who might you be, sir?”
Not the Grim Reaper, but close.
Who wears an all-black outfit?
I’d heard imperial eunuch warriors wore black… but they wouldn’t be here.
“Greetings, Dancheon. I’m here to bring you a gift.”
“A… gift?”
“Yes. A gift.”
“And who are you to give me one?”
I entered and shut the door.
If needed, I could punch the old man’s skull in.
He didn’t seem armed.
Just a senile old fart?
Sometimes dementia makes people wander around spouting nonsense.
Usually you dump them in the mountains because there’s no fixing it.
Maybe someone already dumped this guy. That black outfit—his burial clothes?
Wait… how does he know my name?
He definitely said Dancheon.
A local?
No—never seen that face.
“I’m merely an agent. Someone very high has chosen you. I’m just delivering his will.”
“…Hah.”
Yep. Dementia.
Certifiable.
“Old man, are you from Xiaoshan?”
“I’m only an agent. Not from here.”
“So you’re basically dead already, is that it?”
“If you’re asking whether I’m alive—no.”
“Heh. So you’re as good as dead, that’s what you mean? Fine. Get out of my house before you die a second time.”
“Impossible. You must receive the gift. It’s his will. It cannot be refused.”
Gift, my ass.
More crazy talk.
“Fine, fine. Then give me the damn gift and go.”
“Very well.”
“…!!!”
Suddenly, a translucent window appeared before me.
[Greetings, Dancheon.]
Ah hell—I’ve finally gone insane.
I’m seeing things.
That kick to the head did me in.
[Syncing with new individual. Please wait.]
[Synchronizing this world’s languages… Installing language capabilities…]
[Generating new missions…]
[Loading character data…]
[Synchronization complete.]
[Name: Dancheon]
[Title: Banghoe Clan Collector]
[Combat Power: 14]
[Rank: Below Standard]
[Martial Arts: None]
[Missions: None]
“Congratulations. The gift has been delivered.”
The old man smiled kindly.
His eyes were fixed on the translucent window floating in midair.
“You… you can see this too?”
“Yes. It is called a Status Window.”
“A… Status Window?”
“Yes.”
Status window, my ass.
These are letters.
I’m illiterate.
But I just read them.
Holy shit.
Well then.
To hell with collecting payments—I’m preparing for the civil service exam!
