CHAPTER 55: ONLY A MILLION.

"Brother, you’re the one who killed my brother."

The furious message lit up guild chat like a sword through silence. For a moment, even the spells on the battlefield seemed to pause. Kim Suho arched an eyebrow and grinned. His fingers danced lightly on the keyboard, typing two simple words.

"Damn right."

The response came instantly, dripping with arrogance. "You’ve got guts. I’ll crush you first. I’ve never killed a god-equipped account before."

The chat window blinked out, replaced by a storm of incoming skills. Fireballs exploded across the terrain, arrows rained down like steel hail, and thunderbolts split the sky of Horny Princess Online’s battlefield. The wilderness roared with chaos.

Suho’s avatar staggered under the onslaught. His health bar dipped slightly—one, maybe two ticks. With a flick of his wrist, he popped a potion. The red bar soared back to full. "That’s it? You people call this power? Feels like a mosquito trying to bite through armor."

But then it happened. A heavier strike, sharper and nastier than the rest, carved off a significant chunk of his health. Suho’s grin froze. His eyes narrowed. ’Huh? That wasn’t just trash damage. That was real. Don’t tell me...’

He watched the combat log flash. Another strike. His bar jolted again. ’Damn it. They’ve got god-tier accounts too. Not just one. Two... maybe three. Rich Man didn’t come alone.’

The system flickered in his peripheral vision: [Warning: Opposing whales detected with premium god-tier loadouts.]

Suho exhaled through his nose, calm on the outside. Inside, he seethed. ’Figures. Rich bastards never fight fair. Still, if they think money can bury me, I’ll bury them under even bigger numbers.’

He leaned back, already scheming. Revenge, sabotage, and profit all rolled together. His phone buzzed as he dialed Fen Su, a planner at Horny Princess Interactive.

The line clicked. "Morning, Boss Kim," Fen Su said, voice nervous. "What do you need?"

"It’s been too long since Horny Princess Online had an equipment update," Suho said casually, as though commenting on the weather. "I want a new set rolled out. Stronger stats than everything before. Forget flashy designs—just raw numbers. How long?"

Fen Su hesitated, choosing his words. "If you want polished visuals, it would take two weeks at least. But if the priority is stats over appearance... a week."

"One week," Suho said, sharp as a blade. "Push it."

Fen Su tried again. "Boss, the company’s still bleeding money. We’ve already shifted resources into developing the next game. If we pull them back for this—"

"Losses are good," Suho interrupted smoothly. Outwardly, noble: "If we don’t refresh the game, players will lose interest. We owe them innovation." Inwardly, his grin spread wickedly. ’Perfect. I get to humiliate those whales in-game while dragging development into the mud. Two birds, one stone.’

"...Understood," Fen Su sighed, already resigned. "I’ll call the department heads. We’ll make the numbers break balance completely."

"Excellent." Suho’s eyes gleamed. "I want every whale to cry blood."

He hung up, satisfied. Even in temporary defeat, the battlefield already belonged to him.

Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory – Office

The hum of sewing machines and faint scent of cotton drifted in from the workshop. Suho lounged back in his chair, still half in the game’s world, half in reality. His monitor glowed with the gray of his defeated screen, but his mind buzzed with schemes.

Then—knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in," Suho called, rubbing his temples.

The door swung open. Jin Wu stepped inside, his stiff posture betraying the smirk tugging at his lips. Suho’s instincts flared. That smile always spelled trouble.

"Boss," Jin Wu said, bowing slightly, "good news. The rookie Wu Yu just landed his first order."

Suho blinked. Then his smile twisted into something sharp. Inside, he was already cursing. ’Motherf— not again! Every damn time I turn my back, these clowns bring in more business.’

"What kind of order?" he asked, voice smooth as silk.

"Only a small one. About $100,000," Jin Wu said brightly. "But it’s a good start. He’s showing promise. Bigger ones will surely follow."

Suho forced a laugh, leaning back in his chair. "A hundred grand. Not bad for a rookie."

Inside, his blood boiled. ’A hundred thousand I can swallow. Manageable. But if these idiots bring in millions again, I’ll chain the sales team to their desks and forbid them from moving.’

Jin Wu clapped his hands once, as though delivering a blessing. "And Boss, that’s only the start. There’s an even bigger happy event."

Suho’s eyes narrowed. His gut twisted into a knot. Outwardly, he chuckled. "Oh? Bigger than a $100,000 order?"

Inside, he cursed. ’Bigger happy event? No. No, no, no. A bigger happy event means disaster. I can smell it from here.’

Jin Wu’s grin widened, as if savoring the suspense.

Suho braced himself, half-dreading, half-preparing for whatever fresh hell his employees were about to drop on him.

"Hey, I... accidentally took an order."

Jin Wu scratched his head with an awkward smile. He almost looked shy, which immediately put Kim Suho on edge.

"How much?" Suho’s bad premonition spiked like a knife in his chest.

"No big deal, just a small one. Only a million."

Suho blinked. "How many?"

"One million." Jin Wu grinned as if this were pocket change. "They’ll pay in two installments. Tomorrow, six hundred thousand goes into our company account. The remaining four hundred thousand comes after we hit the halfway mark in construction."

Suho’s lips twitched. ’Six hundred thousand tomorrow? Are you kidding me?’

Jin Wu misread his expression and chuckled. "Boss, it’s all thanks to you. Our factory’s fabric is miles better than the competition. Same price, higher quality—customers line up to choose us. Honestly, we owe this to your foresight. If you hadn’t insisted on quality materials, we’d never be this successful."

Suho’s face darkened. "So it’s my fault?"

"Yes! If you hadn’t chosen good fabric, there’d be no orders. You were wise, Boss Kim." Jin Wu nodded like a fool, thinking he was flattering. To Suho, it was a slap.

"Get out," Suho muttered, waving his hand feebly. His head throbbed. He just wanted silence.

Inside, his thoughts roared. ’Damn it. If I had known earlier, I’d have bought rags! Who knew good fabric would become a curse?’

He remembered when he first took over the Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory. Back then, orders were rare. Now, business poured in. And that was with him deliberately tripping Jin Wu every chance he got. If he hadn’t been blocking sales, they’d probably be sitting on mountains of contracts by now.

Today the truth landed like a hammer: it was his own decisions that made the sales team unstoppable. The irony nearly killed him.

But there was no turning back. He couldn’t downgrade the fabric now without collapsing the company’s reputation. That meant one solution—sabotage the people, not the product.

’Jin Wu’s business skills are too damn good. I need him out of sales.’

He tapped the desk, thinking. Then remembered: Fen Su had complained about manpower at Horny Princess Interactive earlier. Perfect. Transfer Jin Wu there. Make him office director, toss in a raise, and he’d never suspect. The system didn’t flash a warning either. That sealed it.

’Good. Promotion on paper, exile in practice. Without him in sales, even with good fabric, we won’t be drowning in orders.’