Under the name of reform, the working environment of monsters was becoming more prosperous.
At the same time, the magical girls were also facing new changes in accordance with the season.
On the day a new minister, who was practically their leader, sat in office.
A letter flew into the homes of the magical girls, as if it were a utility bill.
Two people, surprised by using a program for the first time in their lives, sat in front of the computer, awkwardly moving the mouse while staring at the monitor screen.
“What is this, what are we supposed to do?”
“Is this the button?”
The program that Shiyeon and I were struggling with was a video conferencing program.
To celebrate the inauguration of the new minister and to foster camaraderie, they decided to hold a meeting in this way, as gathering everyone in one place during the resurgent plague era would be difficult.
A program that could be easily downloaded from a website with a rough translation done by a translator.
Even after downloading, there were things about accounts, camera settings, and language settings to deal with.
Though manageable if followed calmly, our haste and the fact that it was our first time using the program led to us stumbling with the mouse.
After a struggle following what was written on paper, a video conference room filled with dozens appeared.
Since there were no separate cameras or microphones on our computer, only a blank screen was showing.
[I’m in charge of Incheon.]
Fortunately, there was a separate space to chat, allowing us to quickly check in like a roll call with relatively fast typing.
Faces of people moving awkwardly here and there, and among them, there was an elegant-looking lady sitting in a luxurious room.
Seeing the part labeled as host on the screen, it seemed that this person was the new minister.
The new minister’s gaze was directed straight ahead, as if closely examining the camera.
Then, a leisurely voice came through the speaker, slightly delayed.
“If you’re a magical girl from Incheon… it’s Sun and Mun.”
It seemed she confirmed our chat a moment late, bowing her head after staring intently at the screen.
Perhaps thinking that all the expected participants had gathered, she covered the paper she had been scribbling on with her head bowed and looked at the screen.
“Yes, hello. I am Bae Eun-hye, the newly appointed Minister of the National Safety Department. It’s nice to meet you all.”
A polite introduction followed by a fitting greeting.
Many people on the video conference screen clapped, but since only the new minister had her sound on, we couldn’t hear the applause.
The first impression wasn’t bad, so I thought perhaps life as a magical girl would get somewhat easier.
…At least until the next sentence came.
“The reason I gathered you all so late at night in conjunction with my inauguration is to gauge public opinion and obtain your consent regarding a new project we are pushing for…”
“?”
Taken aback by this sudden announcement, I wondered if I hadn’t heard correctly and rubbed my ear with my pinky finger.
What was this new project they were supposedly pushing?
Did they really hold a video meeting at this hour to seek our consent?
The not-so-bad first impression collapsed under a few dispassionate words.
Look at this, even Shiyeon, who was listening beside me, had a strange expression.
With my brain aching from this fragmented information, I tilted my head and touched my forehead with the tips of my five fingers.
What should we do, the person sitting there claiming to be the new minister already looks like a fraud.
Regardless of our bewilderment, she continued to speak.
“We are planning to create merchandise based on the appearances of the magical girls who have transformed this time, and I think it’s necessary to get your consent…”
Should we call this hard work, or should we say they’re already preparing to cash in?
Anyway, the new minister was busy right after assuming office.
As her words continued to draw out like a business presentation, the surprise etched on the faces of those in view of the camera at this sudden business proposal was evident.
Perhaps encouraged by the sales of magical girl merchandise from the neighboring island, they might have wanted to take a chance.
Naturally, they explained the anticipated profits and distributions for obtaining consent for the proposed project.
No matter what she said, to those who were suspicious, it only sounded like the ramblings of a snake oil salesman.
‘Merchandise isn’t really that profitable…’
Sitting in front of her, legs crossed and head propped up on my hand, I couldn’t help but have such thoughts.
Creators often say that merchandise feels like fan service.
To sell at what one might call a “reasonable price” means that profitability is virtually impossible.
Even creators who easily make thousands a month have stated that the merchandise business is not likely to be fruitful…
How does a ministry with zero experience expect to generate profits and distribute it to us?
The ideal future they painted, assuming profits would come, seemed absurd, yet there was no need for us to react too sensitively regarding a business that dealt with our post-transformation faces.
People would get excited regardless when they saw the post-transformation appearances.
Though there was somewhat of a feeling of going with the flow, nevertheless, apart from the seven magical girls who had declined on the spot, the rest agreed to the merchandise production.
Whether it works out or not, it’s nice if it does, and if not, then that’s that.
If there were profits, we could catch some crumbs to eat, and if it flops, then it can’t be helped.
‘Anyway, no risk, no reward.’
Only after receiving assurances that this would not bring us any disadvantages did I agree with a light heart.
Honestly, given that this is a government-initiated project, the level of trust was already at rock bottom.
Wouldn’t it simply feel like they were looking for a way to pocket taxes somewhere?
They likely don’t expect any real profitability from the outset.
If we’re lucky, we might recover what we invested; otherwise, it would be a joke.
While I had such skeptical thoughts, Shiyeon seemed to hold a bit of hope.
“Are we finally getting merchandise?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, this can’t possibly go well.”
Waving my hands weakly like a jellyfish’s tentacles, I revealed my negative attitude and poured cold water on her futile hopes.
Shiyeon, who always collected foreign magical girl merchandise and items of male characters from animations, may have had some admiration for the project itself, yet the counterpart seemed quite lackluster.
Rather than expecting a successful product from a government-run merchandise project, it would be far better to order directly from a private merchandise company.
Holding such thoughts, a few weeks later.
As the weather that felt like early winter changed to the term cold wave…
While waiting at the crosswalk on the way to school, Shiyeon tugged at the ends of her long sleeves and pointed at a bus with her other hand.
“Mary, look at that….”
‘Huh?’
[Various magical girl merchandise to be released soon! Don’t miss it!]
“Wow…”
The advertisement was broadly affixed to the side of the bus.
With its garish colors, it looked hastily thrown together like a PowerPoint presentation a middle schooler might submit as homework after just two hours of work.
Seeing it plastered so prominently on the bus, an astonished admiration slipped out of my mouth.
Given the abysmal quality of the ad, I had a rational suspicion that it might even promote some level of attention for comedic value.
If the advertisements looked that bad, I didn’t need to see the merchandise’s quality to know it would be disappointing.
I had a feeling of how lamentable it might end up looking.
‘If only they made a little less…’
At this point, of course, any expectations of profit were completely dashed.
If that were the case, I hoped they would make less merchandise to minimize losses; a pitiful wish crossed my mind.
This would be the first official magical girl merchandise released directly in Korea, not a personal order.
As the glorious first button, there were quite a few people looking forward to it, even despite the cheap advertisements.
I had a hidden wish that it would work out, but it was mere speculation.
The quality of the ad was not just cheap but looked downright unattractive.
Nonetheless, Dongha, who would be most sensitive to news like this at school, was burning with empty expectations.
“I borrowed from my allowance for next year.”
“You really are crazy.”
Still, it was something made by people to resemble themselves, so I made sure to visit the homepage on the day the sale began to see how the merchandise turned out.
I was also curious about what kind of confidence could make them think they would be able to make profits.
Starting with the slow-loading homepage, there were pages that took ages to change.
After five minutes of waiting, I finally confronted the prices of the merchandise listed on the government website.
[Jupiter Figure – 2,500,000 won]
‘Are they out of their minds?’
2.5 million won for the figures.
Cushions at 100,000 won each, acrylic stands at 40,000 won each.
How they planned to gain profit was instantly answered by looking at those numbers.
I was bewildered to see photo cards or whatever they were, and it became clear what they were selling.
Their insane mindset suggested that they could make a profit as long as they abandoned “reasonable prices.”
It seemed that people went crazy over the word limited quantity, as by the time I entered the page with the detailed descriptions of the products, everything was already sold out.
‘Why is this sold out?’
That day, the new minister’s nickname was sealed among us.
Money pig, nothing more, nothing less.
