Chapter 190
“I never imagined things would spiral like this.” Oh Young-Sik spoke as if the situation still hadn’t fully sunk in. “I thought it would be nothing more than a surprise event, but this just... blew up in no time.”
Within the content team, the live stream had been planned to roughly match the weight of running a hidden quest with fans. That was it. Nothing more.
We figured the money could be easily recouped by slotting in a few of the ads the marketing team had already stockpiled, so we went ahead without stressing too much about it. At this scale, though... Oh Young-Sik’s mind began to wander.
Do-Jin was the one who had forcibly kicked off the World Boss event, so there was no question how much attention it would draw. When Oh Young-Sik thought about how much value that attention could generate if it was leveraged the right way, his stomach dropped.
There wasn’t much he himself could actually do right now. Do-Jin was handling everything anyway. At most, he could toss out a few suggestions about the kind of outcome they were aiming for.
This is bad... I’ll only have real work once this is all over and the data starts coming in. At the very least, I’m not the one panicking here.
Oh Young-Sik peeked sideways at Kim Young-Hee. Even with Do-Jin right there on the screen, she kept checking her phone and sending messages. She was clearly overwhelmed, trying to handle every issue that was coming in. Eventually, she must have decided this was getting out of hand, because she switched her phone to silent.
“I’m sorry. Everything exploded so suddenly that I’m completely swamped,” she said.
—It’s fine. I’m pretty thrown off by this myself.
“I guess I was being dramatic. You’re the one who’s actually busy and under pressure right now.” Kim Young-Hee gave Oh Young-Sik a small smile. “I’ll skip the fluff and stick to what actually matters. Time is worth more than gold for everyone right now.”
—Yeah, you’re right.
“First, the World Boss Raid. You’ll be doing that live as well, correct?”
At her question, he straightened in his seat. This was a big one. Before he could answer, though, Do-Jin jumped in.
—As long as I don’t have to micromanage anything, I think it’s best if you handle the rest on your end.
Hearing that, both team leads let out a quiet breath of relief.
Kim Young-Hee straightened up and said, “Whew. That’s the biggest hurdle cleared. Then let’s talk about how this will be run. Like before, you’ll be forming a raid group and leading it, right?”
—If you’re asking whether I plan to take the lead in organizing the raid, then yes. I can’t do it alone, so a raid group is necessary.
“In that case, how would you feel about cooperating with other guilds this time? Recently, pro gaming organizations have started forming LOST raid teams. We’ve been getting quite a few solid proposals from them.”
As LOST exploded in popularity and built an overwhelming player base, even the pro gaming scene, long dominated by PvP titles, began to shift. Its PvE and PvP modes were rapidly gaining ground in esports. Organizations were already assembling raid teams to seize first-mover advantage, and more and more were hosting their own dungeon time-attack competitions.
“Even a World Boss Raid event on its own would make for a great stage. If it happens with you, Do-Jin, the promotional synergy would be insane under the current circumstances,” she predicted.
From Do-Jin’s perspective, it wasn’t a bad proposal. Money aside, these were players who had bounced around different games as professional gamers before settling into LOST. Their skill was already proven. They were high-level, heavily geared players joining as complete teams.
Kim Young-Hee knew Do-Jin would understand that, so she naturally assumed a positive answer would follow. However, his reply went in a completely different direction.
—I don’t think people who move around in organized teams like that would mesh well with me.
“Uh... may I ask why? I thought it sounded reasonable, which is why I brought it up.”
—Well, because they probably won’t listen to my orders.
The reason was so unexpected that Kim Young-Hee couldn’t help but blurt out, “Pardon?”
—I mean, it’s not like all of them are gonna ignore my orders, obviously. Still, people who’ve worked as pro gamers in any game tend to have a lot of pride. That usually comes with stubbornness. I don’t like people who move without listening to me. If they’re joining as a team and chasing their own achievements on top of that, then it’s an even harder no.
“I see where you’re coming from.” Kim Young-Hee crossed the proposal off without hesitation.
When it came to Do-Jin, the company’s policy was simple: offer proposals that aligned with his agenda, and never try to strongarm him into a one-sided deal.
—For the raid roster, I’ll prioritize selecting people who participated in the previous World Boss Raid. There should still be data from the previous applications. If we’re short on numbers or need to adjust class composition, we can fill the gaps using that.
Those players had been handpicked elites, chosen with fan dedication taken into account. There was no reason not to reuse an already vetted lineup. Galante could appear anywhere from a week to a month from now, so preparation could never start too early.
“Yes. I’ll relay that approach—”
Kim Young-Hee was mid-sentence when the conference room door flew open. A middle-aged man with an awfully receding hairline rushed in while panting.
“Oh, hi...?”
Oh Young-Sik looked confused because he had no idea who the man was, but Kim Young-Hee recognized him immediately. He was Kim Jin-Ho, who had just joined the company and been put in charge of the newly established Management Team Seven.
“Why are you—” Kim Young-Hee began to ask, but was quickly interrupted again.
“I, uh, heard you were in a meeting with the guy who plays that game, so I figured I’d come by.”
That was technically true, but he was the one in charge of idols. Kim Jin-Ho had joined the company alongside Wish, a five-member girl group. They were three years into their debut and sitting at a middling level of popularity, and they’d come over to Rael Entertainment as a package deal after their previous agency went bankrupt. In short, they worked in a field that had absolutely nothing to do with Do-Jin.
“Kim Jin-Ho, I’m sorry, but we’re in the middle of a really important meeting right now—”
“Ah, yes, I know. I know it’s an important meeting. Still, there’s something I really need to ask.”
Kim Jin-Ho muttered a few half-assed apologies, chuckled it off like it was nothing, and shoved straight past them before planting himself in front of the screen.
Oh Young-Sik, a video guy, and Kim Young-Hee, who was far too gentle for this kind of shenanigans, had no chance of stopping someone who’d been hardened by years on the front lines of the cutthroat idol industry.
“Hello, Mr. Do-Jin. I’m Kim Jin-Ho, Team Lead of Management Team Seven. I won’t bullshit you. I’ve got a favor I’d really like to ask.”
—What kind of favor?
“You know Wish, right? I manage them. One of the girls plays your game. I heard a massive stage just opened up, so I was wondering if you could spare a single slot for her. We’re all under the same roof, so helping each other out would be nice, right?”
Do-Jin was dumbfounded. He barged in out of nowhere, and this was what he wanted to talk about. Rather than feeling pissed off, Do-Jin was amused.
“Come on, Kim Jin-Ho. You can’t seriously be doing this,” Kim Young-Hee butted in.
“I know, I know. I get that it’s rude. Still, since I’ve already brought it up, I was hoping you’d at least hear me out.”
Kim Jin-Ho had already done the math. There was no way a young gamer such as Do-Jin would turn down an opportunity with idols. It was practically their demographic.
—I’m sorry, but I don’t really know who Wish is.
“What?”
—I said I don’t know them. What level is she, anyway?
“Uh... from what I’ve heard, she’s over Level 80.”
Was this just blind enthusiasm running ahead of reality? Even if she was invited, she would probably turn it down herself.
And if she actually said she wanted to come, that’d be a whole different kind of disaster, Do-Jin thought to himself.
Either way, the answer was the same.
—I’m sorry, but that’s not going to work. This isn’t the kind of thing someone can just tag along for. If she joins, all she’ll get is backlash.
“Ah... but she really works hard. Wherever she goes, she pulls her weight. Her reactions are clip-worthy too.”
He really was persistent, in that uniquely entertainment-industry way. However, Do-Jin wasn’t willing to consider it. He gave a curt apology and turned back to Kim Young-Hee.
—I’ll leave the rest to you. For raid recruitment, stick to what I mentioned earlier. Higher-level requirements are better, but I want a minimum of 145. I’m heading out. If there’s anything else, pass it along through Chun Ji-Hyun.
With that, Do-Jin disappeared from the screen. As if he’d fled the moment the call ended, both Oh Young-Sik and Kim Young-Hee’s expressions twisted at the same time.
“Kim Jin-Ho, seriously...” Kim Young-Hee trailed off, forcing herself to swallow her anger.
Whatever. I’ll just report this incident. The director can deal with it, she thought. It’s not like he’s the kind of person who listens anyway.
There was no point arguing with someone who muttered about how they were all family and complained that Do-Jin was being too stingy after he left. Both team leads knew better than to pick a fight with someone hardened by years of on-site work in the entertainment industry.
They brushed off their seats and stood up in silence.
***
After finishing what barely even counted as a meeting, Do-Jin let out a short laugh. “The more I think about it, the more insane it is.”
The idea of someone trying to jump into this mess at Level 80 was already a joke. The fact that it somehow escalated into getting tangled up with an idol just made it even more absurd. For a moment, he wondered if this was what people meant by getting swarmed with nonstop favors and handshakes.
“Was their name Wish? I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before.”
Despite being somewhat amused by it, he dropped the thought almost immediately. Racking his brain over such a small matter was a waste of effort. It mattered less than the rotten moss stuck under Galante’s claws. Right, that boss was what actually mattered right now.
Galante isn’t anything like the last one.
The previous World Boss had flooded the plains with mobs, turning the whole fight into a simple numbers game. Galante didn’t work like that. He showed up alone, a single entity in a World Boss Raid, and that alone made things way more complicated.
An unstable resurrection combined with a timeline that’d been shoved forward meant there would be some kind of difficulty adjustment. Even so, the relative difficulty could easily end up worse.
This might turn into a complete nightmare.
There hadn’t been any additional announcements yet, but Do-Jin already knew how the raid was going to play out. At first, Galante would exist as an instance dungeon boss. Players would enter the World Boss Raid zone and fight inside that sealed space.
If nobody managed to kill it there, the fight would roll straight into the next phase. Galante would then break out into the open world instead of staying inside an instance, and every single player would be forced to fight the same boss together.
In his previous life, not a single raid had managed to clear Galante in that form. Because of that, Galante had descended into the open field at full power, and a massive chunk of the Central Continent had been turned into a land of death.
Clearing the instance doesn’t mean it’s over, but at least it’ll come out weaker.
Do-Jin decided to prepare for that first. They’d be hunting a dragon with more than 200 people, all crammed into a single instance dungeon.