Lian had already asked his parents to transfer some money into his account.
He might not get another chance like this in the future.
Right now, he was lying on his bed, one arm raised lazily above him. Between his fingers held a small crystal card. Its surface was divided into eight square slots, four of which were already filled with faintly glowing symbols.
"Alright," he muttered. "First priority upgrade the rune deck.."
A rune deck is basically a card used to store runes and summon them. It dosen't store runes physically. Instead, it mapped them to a subspace tied to the deck's coordinates.
a hidden dimension that overlaps with reality. Think of it like a 2D video game: the character moves on the X and Y axes, but if you place your hand exactly above it on the screen, the character can't see it. Even if both have exact same X and Y axis, the Z axis is different. Sub-space works the same way—your runes exist in a coordinate-mapped dimension that the deck "keys" into. The card was just the anchor, a lock that opened a space offset from reality.
Most student decks have 8 slots by default, but you can buy bigger ones: 16, 32, or even 128 slots. The more slots, the pricier the deck gets.
Lian poured a thread of ether into the crystal.
The card vanished from his hand.
In its place, a faintly glowing azure interface unfolded across his palm, like a tattoo made of light. A tiny rectangular grid appeared, eight squares arranged neatly. Four lit. Four empty.
He stared at it for a moment.
"Still four empty slots," he sighed.
And the money he had now wasn't enough to buy any runes nor was it enough to buy the materials and craft them.
Once this transfer dried up, he'd be broke again.
Lian let his arm fall back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"So," he murmured, already thinking ahead, " I better look for ways to make money some other ways.."
Buying runes isn't super expensive, to put it in perspective, Sequence 1 runes cost about the same as buying a laptop in his previous world. Sequence 1 runes were sold almost everywhere and affordable for most students.
Making them yourself is cheaper if you have the right components and resources. To put it in perspective, it's like assembling a laptop from parts—writing rune functions is like coding software or an app. Tricky at first, but doable if you've studied rune engineering.
Runes also need maintenance and repairs over time, depending on how much you use them, and that costs money too.
Sequence 2 runes weren't something you could just pick up at a shop. You needed proper ID, verification, paperwork. Not everyone qualified—you had to be with military, government, a licensed organisation, or at least a student at the academy. For students the options were limited as Sequence 2 runes were dangerous lethal killing weapons.
Think of them like buying a car. Price-wise, engineering-wise, complexity-wise—it's kinda hard but not impossible if you want to build an entire functioning even if you had all the parts.
For Lian it usually takes around a couple days to make a sequence 1 rune, and a couple weeks to a month in order to build a sequence 2 rune.
And Sequence 3 runes? Almost all of them are controlled by the military. Highly secured. Even if you're in the military, you can't just snatch one and use it. To put it in perspective, they're like advanced military-grade weapons built for trained hands.
Sequence 4 runes are completely classified. Their engineering is insanely complex—think fighter jets. Even if someone had access, they couldn't use them unless they themselves are Sequence 4. The ether required is so massive that a Sequence 3 user would collapse after a single activation.
Lian's skills were enough to craft Sequence 2 runes—and, given blueprints and resources, he could probably even pump out cheap knockoff versions of Sequence 3 runes. Sequence 4? Out of his league. That's like trying to build a fighter jet in a garage. Simply impossible with his current skill set.
Well whatever I need money first and most importantly. And these few days gap we have before the results were announced and second Year starts is perfect to do it.
I'm gonna do what every other transmigrated person would do. Call my previous world inventions as my own.
I can also use my knowledge in entertainment industry as I seen many anime, movies and novels. Even medicine could work, since technically I am a doctor—but without medical licenses and industry connections, both of them are a dead end. The easiest way to make money? Patent something from my old world that doesn't exist here.
Generally you need to do a whole process identify a problem, market research, user feedback, several product iterations. But who am I kidding? I can just skip all these steps by simply copy pasting a successful product from my previous world.
This world is basically stuck in the '90s. Like there are flip phones and cars but not social media or AI.
After thinking it over, Lian decided to patent a trimmer. Simple and useful which everyone needs.
I mean what else did you think? He will magically make a cure to cancer or some incurable disease in his garage like other transmigrated and regressed protagonists?
This is reality.
He also thought of air fryer and Bluetooth speakers, but both were trickier—time, cost, and production complexity made them less practical.
By evening, Lian finished filing the provisional patent and was walking back.
"Guess I'm stuck doing this boring business stuff for the next month or two," he muttered.
The next day, he hit the academy library and used the computers to research companies and contacts he could pitch his license to. After sending out around a hundred emails daily and waiting a week and again sending follow up mails, by the end of third week he had a few replies in his inbox.
---
Lian bought a well looking suit and showed up at the office.
The lobby was sterile. Glass, steel, muted colours. Some people were moving fast with heels clicking, ID badges swinging and not looking at him while some people sat scattered across the waiting area, folders on their laps, with their various business proposals. Everyone looked busy. No one looked at him. He caught his reflection in a glass panel on the way in.
Yeah… this works he thought. At least I don't look broke anymore.
He sat through the usual intake process, signed a visitor log, and was led into a small conference room. Four people. None of them looked particularly invested.
He introduced himself as Lian Vardan, a student from RedLine Sovereign Academy, and slid a copy of the provisional patent across the table.
That name drew attention.
One executive paused mid-note. Another subtly adjusted his posture, pulling the patent details up on his tablet. The mood shifted. Not excitement, not awe—but interest. RedLine wasn't just an academy; it was a pipeline for talent and innovation. Even a student carried implied credibility.
"Alright," the man at the head of the table said, fingers steeped. "Walk us through the product and why it's worth licensing."
Lian didn't waste time.
He gave the pitch for 5 minutes.
Electric trimmer. Highly convenient and comfortable than razors. Lower long-term cost for consumers. Simple manufacturing. Nothing revolutionary, just practical. And began to explain the business case and market viability analysis.
They shut it down almost immediately.
One of them said it wouldn't work with their current sales model as the disposable blades of safety razors guaranteed recurring revenue while the trimmer wouldn't.
Said it didn't make sense for them. One-time purchase, low repeat sales. Razors were disposable, predictable, and profitable. Why would they kill their own cash cow?
The meeting ended few minutes later.
They weren't rude or insulted him, just uninterested. He was thanked for his time and escorted out.
Normally, this was where he'd push harder. Talk about market trends. Sustainability. Shifting consumer habits.
He didn't.
Instead, a few days later, he sent a follow-up email.
Nothing aggressive. Almost casual.
He mentioned, casually, that he had already signed non-exclusive licensing agreements with several appliance manufacturing companies. He wasn't specific as its all made up.
He attached publicly available data. Their shrinking share in the grooming segment. Competitors inching ahead, quarter by quarter.
If someone else moved first, the market would follow. Slowly at first. Then all at once. Would most likely be forced to adapt to the new electric market.
He let it sit there. Didn't push. Didn't oversell. Just enough uncertainty to make them uncomfortable.
He sent the same follow ups to everyone that rejected him.
Most of them still said no.
Some didn't reply at all.
Three weeks passed.
Then one company got back to him.
It was a small, relatively new firm that mainly exported electrical spare parts to other companies. Recently, they had been trying to enter the consumer market with their own products—but every product they launched so far had failed to generate any real revenue.
They negotiated hard.
In the end, he got 2.5 percent royalty and a small advance paid upfront. Not life-changing money, but enough to breathe. Enough to keep going.
They agreed.
The amount wasn't impressive.
But it was enough.
Enough to cover expenses to keep experimenting.
Lian checked his bank account and it was already deposited.
Now he can upgrade his weapons.