Chapter 506 - 319: Dragon, Dungeon, Dungeons & Dragons (Part 2)

Chapter 506: Chapter 319: Dragon, Dungeon, Dungeons & Dragons (Part 2)

Ben didn’t know what real Adventurers were like, but this was what he’d always imagined.

He wandered around the city for a while and finally settled on a tavern called the Dungeon.

He hadn’t actually done any research; he just thought the name "Dungeon" was a perfect fit for his game.

Ben pushed the door open and went inside.

It was noon, not the tavern’s peak hours. The place was deserted, save for a single Dwarf of indeterminable age sitting behind the bar.

Once a Dwarf was past their youth, it was basically impossible to guess their age by their appearance.

The Dwarf glanced at the door and said coolly, "Taverns don’t welcome little brats."

"I can make your tavern’s business explode!"

"Our tavern doesn’t need more business."

The Dwarf had written Ben off as a kid playing a prank.

Besides, their tavern’s business was indeed quite good—the best in the area.

"I’m the designer of Ferin Chronicles."

Ben revealed his identity.

The Dwarf shot Ben another glance. "HA, HA HA HA," he roared with laughter, turning to shout into the back room. "Sorin, did you hear that? This little brat says he’s the designer of Ferin Chronicles—you know, your favorite card game! Him, the designer, HA HA HA!"

"Who?" A Dwarf poked his head out of the back room. He looked a lot like the one tending the bar; they were probably brothers.

He also looked at Ben. "If he’s the designer of Ferin Chronicles, then I’ll eat my own boot!"

"HA HA HA..."

The laughter died abruptly.

Ben placed his phone on the bar. Displayed on the screen was his social media profile page. In the verified information section, the words "Designer of ’Ferin Chronicles’" were clearly written.

...

「A few minutes later.」

The Dwarf tending the bar stroked his beard and asked, "So what you’re saying is, you want to launch a new tabletop game in our tavern."

"Not so much launch as a trial run for a period of time. Would you be open to it?"

"Of course we would. What are your requirements?"

"This tabletop game is a little special. It requires training a group of people to act as Underground City Lords—er, it’s a special role in the game, kind of like a host or moderator."

The first DMs of Feilin’s tabletop world were about to be born in a small tavern in Deepwater City.

"That’s easy. I’ve got plenty of bright young lads working for me who should be up to the task."

"There’s one more thing." Ben’s expression was a little conflicted.

"Go on."

"Can you get your brother to stop chewing on his boot?"

Ben asked, pointing to the corner where the other Dwarf was gnawing on his own boot as if exacting vengeance.

"Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry about him. Eating one boot won’t kill him. It’s made of the finest cowhide."

The Dwarf chewing on the cowhide mumbled, "A Dwarf always keeps his word..."

「—」

Elsa had also arrived in Deepwater City.

As the chief steward of the Zog Group, she naturally had to follow after Zog’s center of operations gradually shifted here.

As for Twin Tower City, it was already a well-established system and didn’t require much management.

After arriving in Deepwater City, she didn’t start work right away. Zog had given her two days off to move and get settled in.

Although Deepwater City was quite well-developed by now, it still had fewer entertainment options compared to Twin Tower City.

Besides, she didn’t know a soul here.

Elsa was a girl who needed social interaction, unlike her boss, a "self-isolating" homebody Dragon.

The best way to find new friends was to look for groups of people with the same hobbies.

’Deepwater City probably doesn’t have any Elven Language enthusiasts.’

After several years of study, Elsa’s Elven Language proficiency had earned Old El’s approval.

El said she was so fluent she sounded like a native Elf.

Zog said El was just being polite.

Elsa didn’t believe it. ’Mr. El is an Elf,’ she thought. ’How could he be a master of "human" social graces?’

Besides the Elven Language, she had another hobby.

Collecting toys.

To be precise, collecting toys from a series called Spinach Mart.

It was a series of very cute figurines with a huge variety of designs, some original and some collaborations with other franchises.

But its most distinct feature was that you couldn’t just buy the model you wanted; you had to get them by drawing from blind boxes.

The main series had many sub-series, each with its own limited-edition and secret models.

In terms of appearance, the limited-edition and secret models were more detailed than the Ordinary ones.

Of course, the probability of drawing one was also pitifully low.

As a result, the price of many rare models could multiply several times over, or even tens of times, on the secondary market.

Where there’s profit, there will be merchants.

Thus, a large group of people who specialized in flipping rare models emerged, forming a sizable market.

This further fueled Spinach Mart’s popularity.

And why did Elsa know all this so clearly?

Simple. Spinach Mart was launched by Zog. Elsa had even read the marketing proposal.

Things like trendy packaging, opening pop-up shops in various places—stores that only operate for a short time.

Scarcity marketing: the quantity of each limited-edition model was strictly controlled and would never be re-released, turning a mass-produced industrial product that should have no scarcity into a rare collectible.

Celebrity endorsements, but not direct advertisements. Instead, the products would appear in photos of a celebrity’s daily life, making fans think their idol liked it, so they would follow suit...

Elsa understood all these tricks.

But she still fell down the rabbit hole.

Within a few months of getting hooked, the figurines she’d drawn already filled two large cabinets, and she’d become a minorly famous "collector" in the enthusiast community.

It was a good thing she had a high salary. Otherwise, if an average person bought this many, it wouldn’t take long for them to be poor enough to beg on the streets.

She couldn’t help it. The feeling of opening one blind box after another, waiting to see if a surprise was inside—it was just too addicting.

In Zog’s words, "Every generation of young people has their own special brand of health supplements."

In more professional terms, it was Trigger, Action, Reward, and Investment, forming a complete addictive loop.

Elsa was now completely trapped in this loop.

Every time a new series came out, she had to buy some to draw. It felt awful if she didn’t.

The most infuriating part was Zog. He wouldn’t even give her a discount. Even though the production lines were churning them out by the pile, he wouldn’t let her take even a few, not even if she paid.

He said that the content creators couldn’t be allowed to control the supply. He said that if something was called rare, it had to be guaranteed to be rare, so that people would keep getting hooked.

’Zog’s evil salary-reclamation plan.’

And today, Elsa was planning to go to the store in Deepwater City to draw from the latest series.

This series had a secret model that could only be drawn from the Deepwater City store. It was ultra-rare. Because it was inconvenient for people to come to Deepwater City, its price on the secondary market was nearly sixty times the original.

To draw one was to profit.

Elsa planned to go on a drawing spree. Keep one for her collection, and sell the rest to recoup her losses.

She happily rushed to Zog’s Toy Store in Deepwater City. Its layout looked the same as the one in Twin Tower City.

However, as soon as she walked in, Elsa discovered a piece of news that she found incredibly distressing.

The new series had a purchase limit.

’Zog, that detestable flying reptile!’

Filled with indignation toward Zog, Elsa bought the maximum number of boxes allowed by the purchase limit. She didn’t get it.

As she sat dejectedly in the store, staring into space, she suddenly realized that there were surprisingly few people inside.

She had never seen a Zog’s Toy Store with so little business.

"Is there something wrong with your store?" she asked the manager.

The manager said calmly, "It’s just been slow these past few days. Everyone’s gone to the Dungeon tavern to play some new tabletop game."

"A new tabletop game?"

Elsa couldn’t recall Zog launching any new tabletop games recently.

’Could it be? A competitor has finally emerged to threaten Zog’s dominance in the gaming world?’

’Damn it, why is that so satisfying?’

’No, as the qualified chief steward of the Zog Group, I have to go check it out.’

"Where is that Dungeon tavern?"

Following the manager’s directions, Elsa spotted the tavern from a long way off.

It was hard to miss.

A huge canopy had been set up outside the tavern, and underneath it, curtains partitioned off small booths, all of which were packed.

Elsa drew closer out of curiosity and happened to hear someone shouting, "The ’Vanquish Zog’ adventuring party is short one person, does anyone want to join?"

’Oh no. Now I have to play.’