And a few days later, the revenue from the verbal promise finally arrived.
The fruits of price gouging goods, a product of sin, had been deposited into the account without a hitch.
There was no denying that the goods had been overpriced compared to their actual worth.
Nevertheless, it appeared that a profit had been made, and with the rare announcement of additional merchandise, it seemed the goods-selling situation was wrapping up smoothly.
However, as expected, the problems began precisely where they had been anticipated.
[Is the 25 million won figure for the figurine status correct? (138)]
This involved nothing other than the quality of the magical girls’ goods.
Setting aside the outrageous price for now, it was as if the government-approved business had come under scrutiny…
The magical girl gallery, which had been in quite an uproar due to the goods-related issues, was in chaos.
Looking at the post with many recommendations and comments, it seemed the author had purchased the Mercury figurine.
The first image displayed paint that had smeared, greeting those inspecting the post.
The author admitted that if this were the only flaw, they wouldn’t have been too bothered, but they pointed out additional issues – uneven paint jobs and poorly executed areas where the coloring had bled and protruded awkwardly.
Even to someone who didn’t know much about the figurine market, it was clear that the figurines didn’t match the price tag of 2.5 million won.
What was even more striking was the explosive reaction in the comment section.
[Damn it, I knew better than to buy this, haha!]
[- You couldn’t afford it, idiot.]
[Resellers can keep their junk; I’m fine without it.]
[Even an imitation would probably be better than this.]
[Is this really the official figurine released by the government for the first time?]
[Custom orders might be a better bet.]
[Thanks to these failed figurines, my wallet is safe.]
[Is there anyone stupid enough to actually buy one of these 2.5 million won silicon trash figurines?]
[- Bastard!]
[- Bitch!]
[- Haha!]
[- You’re truly the worst kind of person.]
It seemed like a significant portion of the limited quantity figurines hadn’t even been purchased by hardcore magical girl fans, whose names were often attached with fixed pseudonyms.
Instead of lamenting, the prevailing comments suggested relief that they hadn’t made the purchase, with sentiments like “thanks to this, I didn’t have to buy it” or “I’m glad I couldn’t get it,” making up most of the discourse, and mockingly targeting the author.
[25 million won official figurine vs. the Japanese company’s 780,000 won figurine (108)]
A similar atmosphere was evident elsewhere, where the official figurines were criticized for being overpriced and lacking in quality compared to even cheaper alternatives.
Given that most of the merchandise wasn’t purchased, perhaps the frustration over quality took a backseat, becoming more of a topic of mockery among people.
[The biggest fools as of now… (57)]
When people’s expectations for certain products, whether food, concert tickets, or other items, are heightened by aggressive advertising, enterprising resellers inevitably step in to exploit the situation.
Naturally, those resellers, self-proclaimed as such, were the targets of the gallery’s ridicule.
Under the provocative title, the post revealed photos of resellers stacking and offering the magical girl figurines for sale on a second-hand trading site. Drawn in by the promise of the “first official goods,” they had blindly purchased everything in bulk without much thought.
The figurines, originally priced at 2.5 million won, were being resold at inflated prices, marked up by at least 50%.
[Wow, those guys are completely ruined.]
[They’d be laughed at even if they sold at the original price.]
[375 million won? That’s hilarious, their moms must be rolling in their graves.]
[- Do these types even have mothers?]
[To be honest, I wouldn’t buy at 100 either.]
[- What’s 100? 40 is the fair price.]
The problem lay in the buyers’ perception, which had reached rock bottom.
Ironically, even the sight of rows of figurines stacked up drew sympathy from the gallery members, who questioned how long it would take for these resellers to unload such inventory.
[Ignorant citizens fail to recognize the grand strategy of the great emperor government against resellers!!! (61)]
[Cheers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
Once perception had been so deeply rooted, the 2.5 million won figurine transcended mockery to gain a peculiar significance.
Some suggested that the entire goods venture was a calculated scheme aimed at deliberately inflicting losses on resellers, or even a covert tax collection effort against resellers known for tax evasion…
[The humble populace fails to understand the greater purpose.]
[Ah, now I understand.]
In any case, while those who made the purchase were victims of an unfair deal, the fact that the majority of the items had ended up in the hands of resellers was seen as a win in several quarters.
With bitter laughter and heads shaking in confusion, one couldn’t help but question the logic of celebrating a product that was both expensive and low in quality.
Such was the unpredictable nature of the world.
Despite the disastrous results, thanks to the country’s extensive promotional efforts, news of the absurd merchandise spread quickly among the masses.
On a winter school day, Dongha, a devoted magical girl fan, let out a sigh of relief upon hearing the news.
“Wow, I’m so glad I couldn’t afford this ridiculous price.”
“Businesses pushed by the government are mostly the same, you see.”
With a nonchalant attitude, Dongha dismissed the affair, claiming that failure was inevitable.
A few weeks prior, Dongha had lamented the inability to finance the figurine despite receiving next year’s allowance early.
Still, 2.5 million won wasn’t exactly pocket change…
For an average middle school student’s three months allowance, it was unattainable.
Having failed to secure the item he desired, Dongha’s newly acquired allowance lingered unused.
Curiosity sparked about financial management, leading to a casual inquiry while sipping on a drink.
“If you couldn’t buy it anyway, are you returning the allowance?”
“No, I’ll save it over the next three months.”
“You and saving? Sure thing.”
Listening quietly from the side, Seonhyuk chimed in.
The reason for these reactions lay in the fact that Dongha was one of the fattest and the biggest snack lover among the group.
Unless he was involved with some special magical girl activity, most of his money was allocated towards maintaining a well-rounded physique…
In other words, snacks.
Currently, the awareness around the government’s figurine project was in shambles, while Dongha himself was munching on a snack bag.
As a counter to his earlier claim of saving, Seonhyuk’s rebuttal led Dongha to crumple the snack bag and shovel several pieces into his mouth at once while defending himself.
“I don’t spend much on snacks, honestly!”
“There’s a guy with zero persuasion trying to persuade.”
“Put the snack bag down first before you talk.”
Of course, his current actions discredited his defense immediately.
After a futile back-and-forth, the conversation shifted to a fitting topic for the winter season.
“What are you guys doing for winter break?”
Finally chiming in, Taehyun spoke up.
Though I had no particular plans for winter vacation, the responses from Seonhyuk and Dongha flowed freely.
“Family trip to Japan.”
“Mount Seorak with Dad… Ugh, I don’t really want to go.”
As their answers rolled out, the silent gazes naturally turned toward me, who hadn’t responded.
Without any concrete plans, the turn was casually passed to Taehyun, whose answers mimicked my lack of arrangement.
“You?”
“I don’t have anything planned either.”
Realizing this, a mutual feeling of contentment settled, allowing for a casual response.
“Same for me.”
“We can hang out, our homes are close enough.”
Seonhyuk casually suggested a get-together, pointing at me and Taehyun, using our proximity as justification.
Was the guy oblivious to my gender or something?
Even if we all had the same gaming consoles, what was the point of gathering to do nothing special?
“What would we do, just the two of us?”
“Hmm, computer games?”
“Are you serious?”
Seonhyuk suggested computer games after a brief pause, which prompted a sigh of disbelief.
That’s something we could easily do without gathering.
In the midst of the conversation, Shiyeon approached us from the back of the classroom.
Catching our attention, she casually pulled me by the shoulder, resting her head on mine in a comfy manner.
“What’s up?”
“What are you guys planning for winter break? Anywhere you’d like to visit?”
Shiyeon, who seldom revealed her desires outright, usually responded with vague replies such as “Anywhere is fine” or “I’m good with everything.”
If only she would frankly state where she wanted to go, I’d consider going with her.
Just as this wish crossed my mind…
“Me? I want to go somewhere!”
“Hm?”
Contrary to her usual “anywhere is fine” answer, an excited response came from right above me.
“SECCO! Let’s go together this year!”
