Chapter 206: D&L Bio
“This is a sample.”
Kim Hayun, the head of the legal team, placed something on the table. It was none other than a Peace plushie.
How long had it been since the design was finalized? And yet, they already had a prototype. The first release was set to be a life-sized plush in its ethereal form, just the right size to hold in one’s arms.
“It’s cute.”
“It would be better to slightly reduce the space between the eyes and enlarge the ears. The horns should also be smaller, while the tail should be fluffier.”
Kim Hayun spoke seriously, and I quietly nodded along.
What did I know? It already looked cute to me.
Seok Gimyeong, sitting apart from her, also had a do whatever you want expression.
“Additionally, Director Han, I recommend revising the terms when accepting Monster Mounts for training.”
“The terms?”
“Yes. As it stands, I believe there is no fixed compensation. Could you share what you consider a reasonable training fee?”
“The variety of monsters is too vast to set a fixed price, so I was planning to charge on a case-by-case basis.”
Honestly, money wasn’t a big deal to me. I wasn’t particularly greedy.
So, rather than a one-time payment, I was considering different terms depending on the situation. Since most clients for high-grade Monster Mounts would be affiliated with major guilds, securing future contractual benefits could be more useful than just taking a lump sum payment.
After I briefly explained my reasoning, Kim Hayun nodded thoughtfully.
“Establishing connections with major guilds worldwide through Monster Mounts is a great approach. However, I suggest implementing a more structured set of basic conditions. The main compensation can be separate, but I mean fundamental clauses.”
She continued in a calm tone.
“I recommend setting a baseline condition of 1% of dungeon raid profits when using the Monster Mount and securing character licensing rights for the mount itself.”
The latter part felt a little self-serving.
“High-grade Monster Mounts are equivalent to S— and A-rank Hunters, and currently, only you can raise them, Director Han. Yet, if you only charge a one-time training fee, you’re severely undervaluing their worth. Given that high-rank Hunters typically receive a cut of dungeon raid profits, a 1% share should be easily acceptable. Of course, this applies to A-rank Monster Mounts—for S-rank ones, I believe you could set the base rate at 3% to even 5%.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Even at just 3%, that was no small amount.
S-rank Monster Mounts would primarily be used in S-rank dungeons. If the loot was decent, a single raid’s revenue could easily surpass hundreds of billions of won.
Even taking just 3% of 100 billion won meant earning 3 billion.
And considering they’d likely raid at least once a month—if there were ten Monster Mounts in use, that was 30 billion won per month.
That was the minimum estimate.
In reality, the number would be well over a hundred billion.
Comet and the unicorns were close to finishing their growth. If I regularly received stamina potions and took on training requests consistently, I could raise two to three Monster Mounts per month.
So, within a year… even if I did absolutely nothing, I’d be making several hundred billion won per month.
…This was hard to wrap my head around.
It also felt a little unsettling, like I was exploiting the kids for profit.
Of course, no guild would dare mistreat such valuable Monster Mounts. But still, you never knew.
“Could we also include terms regarding the treatment of the Monster Mounts? Something akin to animal welfare and protection.”
“Of course. Given your monopoly over this field, as long as the conditions aren’t unreasonable, we can structure them however you wish.”
After discussing more details about the training contracts, Kim Hayun stated she would draft a preliminary agreement and send it over.
According to her, character licensing could be an even bigger goldmine.
Since the Monster Mounts would be actively engaged in global dungeons, they would naturally become recognizable, making it easy to generate revenue without needing to create stories or lore.
As my mind spun with contract terms, current Hunter-related laws, and international Hunter regulations, Seok Gimyeong pulled out a thick stack of papers.
I wanted to bolt.
“This is the financial report on Director Han Yujin’s current assets.”
“You really had no interest in this, did you?”
Seok Gimyeong chuckled.
Yeah, I kind of didn’t.
Mainly because I hadn’t really needed to buy anything with my own money.
Somehow, the payments for things always ended up being handled by either Seong Hyunjae’s or Yuhyun’s cards.
Even Yerim, after paying off her debt, couldn’t stand to see me spend my own money.
Moon Hyunah would insist, “You’re already helping me, so I can’t let you pay.”
Kang Soyeong would say, “You’re taking care of Comet, so just tell me whatever you need.”
And Myungwoo constantly used the excuse, “I owe you for everything.”
Even Noah had looked at me with those pleading eyes, asking, “Can’t I pay for this instead?”
‘At least I spent my own money on Do Hamin and Kim Minui.’
Of course, most of my expenses went to Seok Hayan’s team.
Lately, they had been burning through hundreds of millions of won daily on mana stones just for field testing records.
And that was on the lower end—before, they had been spending even more.
…Wait. My account hasn’t gone bankrupt, has it?
I had dumped all financial management onto Haeyeon when they offered to handle taxes.
Surely, they would have informed me if I was in the red.
“Currently, Director Han, your available cash balance is 130.3 billion won. I’ve omitted the smaller units.”
Wow, that was a lot of money.
It didn’t feel real.
I wondered where it all came from, and apparently, it was from Haeyeon, Sesung, and Breaker paying for Monster Mount training.
I knew they were offering payments, but I thought, at most, I’d be getting around ten billion won. Their generosity was staggering.
On top of that, Seok Hayan’s team had been spending quite a bit, but overall, my expenses were negligible compared to my available funds.
“And you’ve made some stock investments. It wasn’t a large company, but it’s now on the verge of shutting down due to multiple issues.”
“…Huh?”
Stocks… Oh, right, that hair-loss treatment company!
It had already been three months, but there hadn’t been any news.
By now, things should have been blowing up, but instead of skyrocketing, they were about to go bankrupt?
“…Did they fail to develop a new product?”
“They were working on a drug using dungeon byproducts, but they had been receiving material support from MKC. When MKC pulled back after your abduction incident and eventually collapsed, their development halted as well.”
“Oh… Ah… Uh…”
Ahhh…
I… Uh… I had nothing to say.
So that’s what happened.
Of all companies, it had to be MKC…
Come to think of it, what if all the other stocks I remembered tanked as well?
The Awakening Center’s delay meant that the domestic and international stocks tied to future S-rank Hunters were now uncertain.
That was still far off, but it was something to consider.
Even dungeon and guild-related stocks could be unpredictable now.
Not that I needed to make money from stocks anymore.
“It’s a small amount, but I’d advise against touching the stock market any further.”
“…Yeah. That makes sense.”
I nodded, but the guilt over that tanking stock wouldn’t leave my mind.
Most of it didn’t matter, but the hair-loss treatment…
MKC’s downfall wasn’t my fault, but I definitely played a role.
If they were failing because they couldn’t get dungeon byproducts, then—
‘…Why don’t I just supply them myself?’
I had more than enough money.
I didn’t even know which dungeon the materials came from, but it shouldn’t be hard to acquire the rights.
Yeah, I couldn’t just let this go.
“Want to step out with me for a bit?”
It was a little embarrassing to bring this up right after hearing about my failed stock investment, but… I had found a promising investment opportunity.
D&L Bio.
The company was located outside of Seoul, in Gyeonggi Province.
The building was surprisingly large.
To conduct research on dungeon byproducts, they needed an isolated location without residential areas nearby, plus proper safety facilities and even Hunter security.
In other words, it was expensive to operate.
“Their hired Hunters are only D-rank, though.”
Seok Gimyeong, a B-rank Hunter who had an A-rank bodyguard, commented dryly.
As for me, I had Noah accompanying me.
D&L Bio’s CEO was fairly young.
Most of the employees I saw on my way in were also young.
As we sat across from each other, CEO Jo Seongsu asked why we had come.
“I wanted to inquire about the products you’re developing. I heard you were in partnership with MKC.”
“Ah, yes.”
Jo Seongsu nodded with a grim expression.
From what Seok Gimyeong had already told me, their situation was exactly as expected—left stranded after MKC’s collapse.
There was no need for a long discussion.
I got straight to the point.
“I’ll provide support in place of MKC. I’ll supply the necessary dungeon byproducts and invest in your development costs as well.”
This company was on the brink of success—all they needed were materials and funding.
There was no reason to hesitate.
Upon hearing my words, Jo Seongsu’s face immediately brightened.
“Thank you! You won’t regret this! We had everything ready, we were just missing the final piece!”
Jo Seongsu, desperate for my trust, eagerly signed the contract.
The dungeon that provided the necessary materials was a B-rank dungeon previously managed by MKC, which meant it was now temporarily under the Hunter Association’s control.
Since it was still a regular dungeon, acquiring it shouldn’t be difficult.
After finalizing the deal, Jo Seongsu led us to the research lab.
It was surprisingly well-equipped.
The head researcher turned out to be none other than Jo Seongsu’s wife.
“It’s technically a plant that mimics the structure of human hair.”
Song Eunjin explained.
“You can control its color, and the implantation process is extremely simple. It adheres to the skin through a natural absorption process, meaning it poses no harm to the body. As long as you rinse it lightly every two days and expose it to a certain amount of sunlight, it maintains a full and natural appearance. The only downside is that it has a length limit—anything beyond a short cut isn’t possible.”
…A treatment, huh?
So it was more of a plant transplant than a cure.
According to Song Eunjin, even healing skills couldn’t regenerate lost hair.
However, once transplanted, this plant provided not only the appearance but also the full functionality of natural hair.
“If we receive sufficient investment, we can develop a variety of new products in the future. The potential of dungeon byproducts and items is limitless.”
Her eyes shone with enthusiasm.
That reminded me of something.
“In that case, how about this? A tool for recording video inside dungeons.”
“Recording inside dungeons? But we specialize in bioengineering…”
“You could use a type of plant. It’s actually a fairly common one.”
It was a plant that stored its surrounding visuals and sounds as some sort of electrical signal… or maybe radio waves?
Once removed from the dungeon and processed through a machine, it could produce recorded footage of the dungeon’s interior.
This method had originally been developed overseas.
I didn’t know the exact technology behind it, but I had seen a brief explanation on TV.
At my suggestion, Song Eunjin’s face lit up with excitement.
“That’s quite a fascinating plant. But our research team alone wouldn’t be sufficient—we’re not familiar with video recording technology.”
“You just need the right people. I’ll provide whatever support you require.”
Once dungeon recording became possible, various related programs emerged, changing many aspects of the industry. Public interest in Hunters surged in a positive direction, and crime prevention improved significantly since evidence could now be preserved for crimes committed inside dungeons.
…Of course, for lower-rank Hunters, who couldn’t afford expensive recording items, it was a luxury they could only dream of.
If development took place domestically, we could produce affordable, mass-market recording devices. I could even personally support lower-rank Hunters by providing them with subsidized options.
“Someday, I suppose I’ll have the opportunity to learn more about you, Director Han Yujin.”
As we left D&L Bio, Seok Gimyeong spoke.
“Just like the Guild Leader and a few others have.”
It seemed he had noticed that Yuhyun and certain people around me were aware of how I uncovered strange information.
I had only revealed my regression to Seong Hyunjae—who had no memory of it—but when it came to the Filial Duty Addicts, Seok Gimyeong had read the situation correctly.
“…Maybe someday.”
I thought we got along well, but I was still human.
I couldn’t completely let my guard down.
The current Seok Gimyeong hadn’t done anything to me, so I chose to leave things as they were.
Still, acting as if nothing had ever happened, like my heart was completely unburdened, wasn’t easy.
Being completely open with him wasn’t something I could do just yet.
Perhaps with more time, it would become easier.
“I trust you, Team Leader Seok. I just think it’s too soon.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
His smile was warm, which made me feel a little guilty.
The large window on the first floor of Myungwoo’s forge was lined with dungeon-harvested fruit, strung up to dry.
It felt odd to use someone else’s workspace this way, but I had no choice.
Sorok liked the dried fruit from this exact spot the best.
“I really owe Ismuar for this.”
This was the perfect place to dry fruit—right near the window, a suitable distance from the forge where Ismuar resided.
The gentle heat of the fire spirit reached just enough to create the ideal conditions for drying.
The results were so good they could even motivate a lazy little fawn into action.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’re making extra demands.”
Myungwoo handed me a basket filled with perfectly dried fruit. Then, he took it a step further.
“Should we try drying monster meat here too? The other hatchlings might like it even more.”
“Fruits are fine, but hanging raw meat here would look bad, and it’d probably smell awful.”
“Ismuar can absorb the smell.”
…The flames inside the forge flickered slightly more aggressively just now.
Was that really okay?
“Treat Ismuar well.”
“I am. It loves watching me craft new items more than anything.”
That was why he never skipped a day at the forge, even if it was just for small projects.
Holding the basket of dried fruit, I left the forge and headed toward the Breeding Facility.
Thanks to the fruit, I had successfully applied a keyword to Sorok.
It would be great if training went smoothly, but once its belly was full, it would just lounge around again.
Raising it as fast as the others seemed impossible.
As I entered the Breeding Facility, my phone rang.
It was a call from Seok Gimyeong.
“What? Already?”
Yuhyun and Peace had completed their dungeon raid.
But it had only been four days!
–TL Notes–
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