The Deep Realm, Plain of Despair. As Kiriel drew back Gungnir’s bowstring and released it, bolts of light shot out with a thunderous roar, striking the horde of Headless Knights. Horses collapsed under the impact of the arrows, and their riders, the Headless Knights, were thrown to the ground. Kiriel released dozens more arrows into their ranks to confirm the kills. This was his way of increasing the mastery of his Status Window, and the Plains of Despair had been his hunting ground for thousands of years now. There was a saying in the Deep Realm. “When all planets across the dimensions are consumed by the Core, and another Great War breaks out, seize the throne, reign as a god.” What would it feel like to become a god? How strong did one need to be to claim the throne during the Great War? Kiriel knew. He knew that no matter how much he struggled, claiming the throne was beyond him. But even so, he couldn’t stop toiling for mastery. Friday nights at the street food stall were always lively. “Kiriel, take this to table two,” Hakase said. Kiriel took the fishcake stew from Hakase, casually lifting the scalding pot with one hand and whistling as he carried it over to the second table in the food stall. He set the stew down on the coaster. “Eat up,” he said casually. The customers at the table watched him in amazement. The pot was hot enough to cause burns with just a touch, yet the workers here carried it barehanded as if it were nothing. “Boss, are you... Awakened by any chance?” asked one of the customers. Kiriel frowned at the question. “What’s that?” He had a habit of speaking casually to anyone on Earth. The only exceptions were Do-Jun and Yong-Yong, to whom he showed respect. However, the regulars at the stall never took offense. It was like being scolded by a cantankerous grandma—one couldn’t help but chuckle. A strange phenomenon, indeed. “You know, people who can use skills,” explained the customer. “Oh, skills. Of course, I can use them too.” Kiriel nonchalantly extended his hand into the air, intending to gather qi. Suddenly, Hakase slammed his knife onto the cutting board while slicing green onions nearby and glared at Kiriel. Using skills here would not only destroy the stall but also the entire surrounding area. “I-I’ll show you next time.” Kiriel withdrew his hand. “Wow! So, you are an Awakened, then?” “Not really; I’m a Transcendent. Ranked sixth, mind you.” “A Transcendent...? Well, I don’t really get it, but that sounds amazing. I wish I were an Awakened, too.” The patrons at table two were all office workers. They had come to share drinks and chat about work, life, and anything else that came to mind. As the drinks flowed, one customer began lamenting his hardships. Too much work, too little pay, and never enough time to rest properly. Kiriel clicked his tongue while reading a comic book. Such self-pitying stories were all too common during his shifts. Every time he heard them, he felt pity for humans. They spent their youth studying to get into good universities, building their résumés, and landing decent jobs. But it didn’t end there. After getting hired, they had to save up for marriage, housing, and maybe a fancy car. The tired office workers carried on with their rants. “I envy the landlords. If I had just one building, I’d quit this stupid job immediately.” “Yeah, same here. Imagine owning a commercial building, collecting rent like clockwork. No morning commute, no deadlines. Just sleeping in and playing golf whenever I want.” Kiriel wasn’t paying much attention—until he heard the next remark. “They say landlords are above gods.” Kiriel wondered if he had misheard. Then, another office worker added, “Way above gods, really.” Above gods? Was such a thing possible? What exactly was this “landlord” that it could surpass even the gods? Suddenly, the Deep Realm’s saying came to Kiriel’s mind. Whoever wins the Great War will become the king of all dimensions. His heart started pounding furiously because that could only mean one thing: becoming a god. But now, there was something greater than a god? No matter how many Headless Knights he slew to build his mastery, he could never become a god. Yet here was a concept far more enticing. The conversation at table two intrigued Kiriel immensely. He put down his manga and slid his chair toward the group. “Tell me more about this... landlord thing.” Early the next morning, Kiriel went to a nearby real estate agency. After some research on his smartphone, he learned that to become a landlord, one first needed to purchase a building. “I’m not sure about your budget, but this seems like a good fit for your criteria.” The agent showed him a commercial property listed two months ago. It was located on a busy street right outside Gangnam Station. “As you can see, the location couldn’t be better, so there’s no risk of vacancies. The ground floor is already leased. The deposit is 500 million won, with a monthly rent of 25 million won. The yield is around six percent. I personally recommend this one; these kinds of properties are in high demand.” Kiriel stroked his chin, studying the documents the agent handed him. But honestly, most of it made no sense to him. Vacancies? Deposits? What were those? “So, how much money do I need to become a landlord?” he asked the agent. “Well, the property costs 4 billion won. Including brokerage fees of 40 million won and taxes of 200 million won, the total comes to 4.24 billion won. A six percent yield is rare these days, and this building hasn’t had a vacancy in three years.” “I see. Four point two four billion, then,” Kiriel replied drily, seemingly unfazed by the amount. Seeing this, the agent grew hopeful, thinking that Kiriel was wealthy. Perhaps they could close the deal right away. However, Kiriel’s next words were unexpected. “I’m gonna save up some money. I’ll be back, so wait for me.” “Yes. I’m short on funds right now.” “How much are you short? If you’re serious, we can discuss mortgage loans... but that’s entirely up to you. Here’s my card; feel free to contact me anytime!” While prepping the ingredients for the evening’s business, Hakase glanced at Kiriel. Usually, at this time of day, Kiriel would be sitting at a table, giggling over a pile of comic books. Today, however, there wasn’t a single comic in sight; instead, he was fiddling with his smartphone. “Not reading your comics today?” Hakase asked. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you love them?” “I’ve started saving.” “I’m trying to become a landlord, and it’s going to take quite a bit of patience. Oh, by the way, ‘patience’ is the ability to wait for something, in case you’ve never heard of it.” Kiriel earned 50,000 won a day. Dreaming of becoming a landlord was fine, but wasn’t it a bit far-fetched? “Do you even know how much a building costs?” Hakase asked. “Of course. I went to a real estate agency recently.” “They said 4.24 billion won.” “I told them to wait because I didn’t have enough money,” Kiriel said. Hakase looked at him with a dumbfounded expression. He had a pretty good idea of how much Kiriel had saved, and the amount was laughable, at best. With his daily wage of 50,000 won and only a couple of months of work under his belt, he couldn’t have saved more than 3 million won. Assuming an annual income of 18 million won, he would need to save for well over 200 years. “If I save diligently for three hundred years, I’ll become a landlord, a being above the gods. Man, if I had known this sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time grinding mastery,” Kiriel said with a sigh. Do-Jun was heading back after completing the purchase and ownership transfer registration for Changshin Villa Unit 301. He had been paying 600,000 won in monthly rent with the plan to move elsewhere. Originally, he and Yoon-Hee had lived there alone, but their family had grown to five. Moving to a larger house was considered, but in the end, Do-Jun decided to stay at Changshin Villa for the next few years. Do-Jun sat on a bench within the villa complex, calmly observing the surroundings. He had no memory of his life on Earth before the car accident and his transition to the Central Plains. For Do-Jun, life on Earth began after he returned from the Central Plains. A soccer ball rolled up to Do-Jun’s feet and stopped. From a distance, a boy slightly older than Byeol was looking his way, staring at the ball. With a flick of his finger, Do-Jun sent a trace of internal energy to the soccer ball, lifting it into the air. It was the art of manipulating objects through inner energy, known as telekinesis. The soccer ball floated gently before settling into the boy’s hands. The boy looked startled, glancing repeatedly between the ball in his hands and Do-Jun, who smiled at him. “T-thank you!” The boy bowed deeply several times before running back to his friends and resuming their game. Do-Jun found himself smiling softly. He raised a finger to his lips and gazed at Changshin Villa. He had bought Unit 301 not for himself, but for the children. Yet, as he caught his smiling reflection, he realized something. Have I grown attached to this place? Perhaps buying the house wasn’t just for the children. Maybe he liked this place, too. Do-Jun stopped by Hakase’s food stall for the first time in a while. While sipping a drink and snacking on chicken skewers, his gaze fell on a stack of real estate business cards attached to a post. “What’s this?” he asked curiously. Why were there so many real estate cards stuck there? “Oh, those are all Kiriel’s,” Hakase explained. “He says he wants to become a landlord.” “I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this, but there’s a legend in the Deep Realm. If you win the Great War and claim the throne, you become the god who rules over all dimensions,” Hakase said. Do-Jun had heard this before. It was something Cecilia had once told him. Whether it was true or not, Do-Jun wasn’t particularly interested. “So, what does that have to do with this?” he asked Hakase and flicked one of the cards. Hakase hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Have... you ever heard the saying, ‘Above the gods is the landlord’?” And with that, Do-Jun realized what Kiriel was thinking. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.