Crown Prince Yi-Joon, composed and articulate, began his explanation. “Raffle is a foreign word, Elders, meaning something akin to ‘to be swept by fortune.’” Taking out a sample ticket made of finely pressed parchment, he continued: “The mechanics are quite simple. Each person who wishes to acquire the sacred creature purchases a ticket, which bears a unique, identifying number. After everyone has finished buying their desired number of entries, duplicates of those specific tickets are respectfully presented to the creature.”

  He gestured toward the colossal tortoise. “The creature then physically selects a single ticket from the pile. In the tradition of the mountain tribes, it selects its own master.” Prince Yi-Joon finished the explanation with a subtle air of ancient mysticism.

  “Hmm,” the young Envoy with the white mustache observed, his mind rapidly assessing the opportunity. “So, a single person can buy as many tickets as they want to dramatically increase their chances of succeeding in being selected by the sacred tortoise?”

  Prince Yi-Joon nodded, confirming the crucial detail. “Precisely. Usually, this would be a public affair involving local nobles, but as I wished to give the esteemed diplomatic Elders a special, exclusive opportunity, we can hold the entire raffle only between the four of you here.”

  “I am perfectly fine with participating in such a fascinating event,” the Eldest Envoy stated immediately, his eyes fixed on the motionless tortoise.

  “I so wish to try my hand to acquire this relic for His Imperial Majesty!” the scar-browed Envoy declared, his ambition clear.

  “Of course, I am in,” the silent Envoy finally spoke, his interest piqued by the exclusivity.

  The young Envoy with the white mustache concluded, “I will also participate, Your Highness.”

  The Eldest Envoy glared fiercely at his colleagues, his composure evaporating. “What? What do the rest of you gain from this, huh? This relic is clearly the most suitable for my high-stakes mission! Let this old man have it!”

  “If I present it to His Imperial Majesty, I can ask him to help me secure a marriage to the right minister’s daughter, whom I love very dearly! Her family’s politics have been a constant, agonizing thorn in our relationship!” the young mustache Envoy countered, revealing his personal, desperate reason.

  “You!” The Eldest Envoy choked in a fury of rage as the scar-browed Envoy added his own stake. “I wish to secure my son an Admiral’s title, one that has been unjustly denied because of malicious ministerial interference!”

  The silent Envoy merely nodded, offering a cold shoulder to the rising tension. “I am not obligated to tell you why I need it, Elder, but rest assured, my need is great.”

  Prince Yi-Joon smiled inwardly, enjoying the spectacle of rival Ming nobles turning against one another. “As such, let the proceedings begin. The Eunuchs here will sell you the tickets. I shall return at sundown, when we will allow the Thousand-Year Tortoise to select its new master.”

  “Ten silver taels worth of tickets!” the Eldest Envoy immediately roared, trying to stake the first claim. But before he could finish the price, the young mustache Envoy countered him with stunning aggression.

  “One hundred silver taels of tickets!”

  The Eldest Envoy's eyes widened in shock at the astronomical opening bid, but his fury quickly turned into cold calculation. He immediately bought more, seeing the rapid escalation of the competition.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Crown Prince Yi-Joon maintained his gentle smile as he gracefully walked out, leaving the four powerful Ming diplomats to cannibalize their own resources.

  “Huf… huf…” Gi-Reu leaned against a nearby stone wall, fighting to catch his breath. “Brother Min-Soo… Huf… I think that’s enough strenuous training for me.”

  Mi-Reu, taking similarly heavy, gasping breaths, sank down heavily by the base of a tall tree as the sun dipped low toward the horizon. She had changed out of her ceremonial dress and into a more practical unadorned, dark linen Chima Jeogori, a simple, durable jacket and skirt appropriate for the physical demands of training.

  “You two really ought to train more often,” Prince Min-Soo instructed, his own breathing perfectly even. “Well then, get going now; it’s getting dark. Tomorrow morning, Sister Seo-Yeon will keep a vigilant eye on you both.”

  With the final permission granted, both Gi-Reu and Mi-Reu left the training grounds, their muscles already aching.

  “If you had just been born in Joseon, you wouldn’t have had to go through this kind of strenuous physical training by Brother Min-Soo,” Gi-Reu teased, trying to lighten the mood with a joke about their restrictive, male-centric neighbor.

  Mi-Reu, struggling to walk normally due to the fatigue in her legs, merely nodded, thinking inwardly. I am sure as hell thankful that I was born here, in Haebang. Though it’s nowhere near the modern world, the rights and opportunities for women are far better here, thanks to the influence of the Ahom Empire and the fact that the Founding Monarch was a woman.

  “I… I think I finally figured out how the System operates,” Mi-Reu whispered, sitting down heavily on a low stone bench.

  “How?” Gi-Reu questioned instantly, dropping down next to her despite his fatigue.

  “The System was able to precisely measure my Cognitive Bandwidth, right? And somehow, it knows exactly how much money I have,” Mi-Reu explained, connecting the facts.

  Gi-Reu nodded, following her logic closely.

  “The aliens said they are strictly prohibited from interfering physically in this world, which means the entire transaction must be a purely mental or subconscious process,” Mi-Reu concluded, finally feeling a bit of energy returning to her.

  “So… since the System manages your memories, it must read your current mental state to understand your resources?” Gi-Reu reasoned. “So it essentially checks your subconsciousness to see what you genuinely believe the amount of money you currently possess is?”

  “That’s the exact theory,” Mi-Reu said, looking intensely at the panel floating before her. “If I subconsciously believe I have 500 yang, the System recognizes it. If I don’t believe it, it won’t register.”

  “Then use that Quick Recall and confirm the theory! That’s the only way to test if the money is purely imaginary or it will magically take real money,” Gi-Reu urged, his natural excitement building.

  “Yeah… but what should I recall? I don’t want to waste the first, precious use for some stupid, useless information,” Mi-Reu questioned, hesitating.

  Gi-Reu replied instantly, annoyed by her caution. “You literally just said that your old life and this life were similar, just set in the future, right? Just check for any general information relating to our kingdom that you might have come across in your old life!”

  “Haebang didn’t exist in my past life! I’ve told you that!” Mi-Reu countered, frustrated by the constraint.

  Gi-Reu sighed dramatically. “But Ming and Joseon did, right? That’s still relevant!”

  “Fine! I will try to search for any relevant information about the Ming Dynasty’s I might have come across in my past life!” Mi-Reu announced with annoyance, finally giving in.

  She focused on the menu, and the store options sharpened:

  [Memory Archive Store (Current Balance: 500 Yang)

  Cost: 300 Yang - Quick Recall: search memories from past life archive for a specific, short snippet of information

  Cost: 2000 Yang - Re-watch: enter and view a specific archive memory in detail

  Cost: 5000 Yang - Paused Memory: enter a specific archive memory and freeze it ]

  She mentally focused on selecting Quick Recall. The System immediately processed her intent, and a confirmation prompt appeared:

  [300 Yang will be deducted for Quick Recall, do you wish to proceed?

  Y/N]