Chapter 23: You’re Already a Celebrity, You Know?

#1

When he woke up, his phone was covered in red notification numbers.

What was all this?

Hwanung checked his phone while downing a glass of cold water.

There was another DM from Sigrul in the app linked to the towers today.

Just a message to start the day. He gave it a quick look and moved on.

‘He’s diligent.’

Sending these promotional DMs so faithfully had to be a chore.

Next, he opened the email account listed on his YouTube channel.

“Wow…”

[Greetings. We are contacting you from the Kor Climbing Club…]

[Hello! We’ve been following your exploits, Lord 93! We are…]

[…]

An enormous number of emails had arrived while he slept.

They ranged from offers to join Climbing Clubs to requests for meetings with associations and sponsorship proposals.

Nothing beat cup noodles and gimbap for breakfast.

While his old electric kettle bubbled away, he went through the emails.

There were over a hundred, but he could filter out plenty just from their subject lines.

He planned to turn down every offer to join a Climbing Club.

He didn’t need one yet, and from his experience working in an organization, small though it had been, there wasn’t much benefit.

‘Huh. Changsu hyung sent one, too.’

One name stood out: the [Major Climbing Club], where he had worked as a Sherpa.

They had named it that to express their ambition of becoming a major club someday.

He archived it for now and looked through the other emails.

‘I should at least meet the association representatives. They might have information I don’t.’

An association was much like a nationality.

A Climber’s association determined which towers they tackled and where they operated.

They could remain independent, but that meant limited information and no association support.

Hwanung only intended to meet them. He had no intention of joining any of them.

‘It all ends up tying you down.’

Belonging somewhere meant having to act in that group’s interests.

Hwanung wasn’t about to give up his greatest advantage.

He could meet them and keep working freelance.

“I’ll keep this one, too.”

Water trickled into the cup.

The steaming water met the noodle seasoning, releasing a spicy, salty smell.

Add some convenience-store gimbap straight from the fridge, and that was a meal sorted.

He grabbed whatever was handy, set it on the cup noodle lid, and kept checking his emails.

“Sponsorships and ads should be fine, shouldn’t they?”

Companies commonly offered sponsorships to promote their equipment.

Drone sponsorships, equipment sponsorships, and so on.

They had sent all kinds of proposals, promising the best terms in the industry.

He understood that they all meant well, but they had overlooked one thing.

‘I can’t equip anything except gear made specifically for me, can I?’

They were only offering to sponsor Hwanung himself.

They had missed the point.

What Hwanung was promoting wasn’t the intermediary, but the real stars.

His summons.

So he deleted all the useless advertising and sponsorship offers, too.

Then something caught his eye.

[Hello! We are MM Company, and we’re contacting you because we would like to sponsor your summons with equipment.]

“Oh?”

Here was someone worth meeting.

#2

This was MM Company.

A company in name only, it was a small Climbing Club with only about ten employees.

Six production-class avatars, two marketing staff, one president, and one salesperson.

And today, that salesperson, Hojun, had made the masterstroke of his life.

A sponsorship email that would be talked about for years to come.

The president had said this to him:

〈Hey, aren’t the summons the real stars of any summoner’s setup?〉

Huh?

Come to think of it, he was right.

Wasn’t the summon fighting at the front the main attraction, rather than the summoner giving orders from behind?

It was the same in that legendary game.

The flowers were the real stars. So was the giant teddy bear. And the turrets.

Hearing that, Hojun had made up his mind.

They would sponsor the summons instead of the summoner.

It was a gamble.

It wasn’t a make-or-break decision that could bring the company to its knees, but they could lose their chance at a super rookie.

〈What if the summons can’t wear equipment?〉

〈Then we revise the sponsorship email and try again.〉

The president took a relaxed approach to things, and there wasn’t much else they could do anyway.

So Hojun sent the sponsorship email and kept pressing F5 with all the fervor of someone setting out a bowl of cold water to pray.

Then—

“Huh!?”

“Jeez, you scared me. Hey, Park Hojun! Don’t you know saying ‘Huh!?’ is banned in this office!?”

“Boss! It’s here! It came!”

“What did?”

The president asked, busy watching YouTube.

His languid voice made Hojun wonder whether the man actually wanted to make money, but he held his tongue.

First, he had to share the good news.

“Lord 93 got back to us!”

“Oh, really!?”

“Yes! He wants to meet in a tower!”

“Get our contact details and the electronic signature ready right now!”

“Yes, sir!”

They each had an avatar they used for business, too.

Their stats weren’t good enough for serious climbing, but they used them when meeting people to make deals.

The hopelessly lazy president got to his feet.

“Let me know when you have a date. I’ll deliver the contract myself this time.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course. He could become our company’s VVIP.”

“So you do work sometimes, Boss?”

The president, who had been trudging away with a cigarette between his lips, shot Hojun a glare.

If he weren’t his younger cousin, he’d really…

“You know I’m the reason you get paid every month, right?”

“Of course, hyung. I’m your faithful slave.”

“Then get to work, slave.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Having come off worse for opening his mouth, Hojun busily typed a reply at his older cousin’s command.

Once the meeting was arranged, it turned out to be so soon that they would have to leave immediately.

They would meet in an empty Neighborhood Hill-grade tower.

Their Avatar Cards would take care of verifying their identities.

Anyway, the meeting was set by email.

He’d pulled something off. Surely he could have one cigarette?

Hojun grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and headed to the smoking booth, too.

“Hyung, I’ve set up the meeting.”

“Oh, when?”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“Yep.”

A long drag.

The president drew in a lungful of cigarette smoke, then blew it all straight into Hojun’s face.

Naturally, Hojun coughed and gave him a wounded look.

“Then why are you lighting up, you little shit!? Go start the car!”

“…Oh.”

“I’ll give you a fat bonus.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll get you there safely!”

Park Hojun.

A man who knew how to sacrifice this much work-life balance without hesitation when money was involved.

He dashed off to start the car.

The president stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and walked toward the parking lot, smiling.

‘So the summons really were the stars?’

What if the summons could wear equipment—and even grow?

It would mean the birth of an unprecedented avatar, and MM Company’s stock would go through the roof, too.

If they signed him as their exclusive model, they could milk that for a lifetime.

This was a very valuable guest.

They would have to offer terms that suited him.

He found himself humming at the thought of what lay ahead.

Getting off on the right foot was crucial here.

The other party was very likely young, so he would have to explain things carefully.

“Hmm. All right.”

They were meeting inside a tower lobby anyway, so there was no need to worry about clothes.

The metaverse really was convenient at times like this.

Soon, a sedan approached with a smooth purr of its engine.

He climbed into the back seat and set off to meet their distinguished guest.

‘I wonder what he’s really like.’

More than anything, that was what he wanted to know.

MM Company.

At first, all he had cared about was growing the business.

But always being the weaker party in every deal had taken an enormous mental toll.

‘Nothing beats a decent person.’

Drawing an avatar was pure luck.

Some people might have worked their way up, but most owed their success to their avatars’ starting stats.

They hadn’t earned their position step by step. It was no different from winning the lottery.

Modern-day nouveau riche, you might call them.

When dealing with those bastards, there had been more than a few times when, without exaggeration, he’d wanted to grind their faces into pulp.

That was why he kept the company small now, just enough to make a living.

‘Though we do spend more on materials.’

Instead, he had built the company around the idea of turning every customer into a loyal one.

Thanks to word of mouth, it had become a business with fairly respectable sales.

The president, Park Mincheol, headed for the tower, praying that this time he would meet someone good.

If they got along, he was willing to look after him for life.

#3

An unnamed Neighborhood Hill-grade tower.

Hwanung arrived ten minutes before the meeting and logged into the lobby.

With so few people using this tower, there was no one to recognize him.

It was one of those places with a pointlessly enormous lobby.

As he looked around for a while, two people logged in and came straight toward him.

They were all avatars, so no one knew who was who.

The person in front bowed and spoke.

“Hello! You’re Lord 93, correct?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.”

“First, let me give you our Avatar Cards.”

“Of course. I’ll give you mine, too.”

They exchanged cards as though they were playing a game.

Park Mincheol handed over his card as well.

“I’m Park Mincheol, president of MM Company.”

“I’m Lord 93.”

“First, thank you for considering our proposal. If you don’t mind, may we take a look at your summons?”

“Of course.”

Hwanung formed a temporary crew with them and entered the stage.

Then he summoned Eyas, Jina, and Lucas in turn.

As the summons appeared, beautiful and mysterious, the two men’s eyes shone.

“Master.”

“My lord, you called?”

“Yaaawn. I was sleeping so well. What are we doing here?”

“These gentlemen will be taking care of your equipment. Say hello.”

Hwanung spoke jokingly, pointing toward Mincheol and Hojun.

The summons blinked, taking a moment to grasp the situation.

Watching them, Mincheol and Hojun cheered inwardly.

‘Yes!’

‘What? They aren’t just following programmed motions. They have minds of their own!’

Towers were products of another world.

Apart from their guaranteed safety, anything could happen inside them without seeming out of place.

Mincheol examined their equipment.

“So they can use the same items Climbers wear.”

“That’s right.”

“In that case, we’d like to sponsor them with our products. May we discuss the details in the lobby?”

“Of course.”

Hwanung was eager to settle in for a proper conversation, too.

He hadn’t had a good place to farm equipment.

Getting gear meant doing what people called grinding.

Climbing the same tower endlessly until the item he wanted finally dropped.

Honestly, that was a burden for Hwanung.

He couldn’t draw new summons in a tower he had already cleared.

It was one of the few drawbacks of being a summoner, and it was about to disappear completely.

“We’ve set the signing fee at thirty million won, with an additional five million for every video appearance. Another hundred thousand for every ten thousand views. On top of that, we plan to offer five percent of sales as an incentive.”

“That sounds like enough. For now, at least.”

“Oh, really?”

Frankly, Mincheol was surprised.

He hadn’t expected him to agree so readily.

Everyone else kicked up such a fuss trying to get more money whenever he made a sponsorship offer.

What Lord 93 said next was even more remarkable.

“It’s not like I’m a celebrity yet. That’s plenty.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t visit the forums, do you, Lord 93? Make sure you check them when you get out.”

“He’s right. You’re already a celebrity, you know.”

His curiosity grew.

Just what was happening outside?

A curious look crossed Hwanung’s face.