Chapter 270

One day after beginning their assault on the Fated Tower, Sa-yoon, Jaehee, and Geon-joo had successfully cleared up to the 42nd floor. It was a remarkable achievement, a synergy born from the fact that all the gathered Awoken were S-class and the lower floors were of a lesser difficulty.

“The clear time only started to exceed an hour from the 40th floor, right?”

Lee Jaehee spoke up as they were all sprawled out resting on the 0th floor. Sa-yoon nodded in agreement.

Han Geon-joo’s claim of having gone through hell in the Fated Tower was no exaggeration. From the 40th floor onwards, the time it took to clear a level increased exponentially. Not only were there a lot of monsters, but the disruptive element of the tricky terrain could not be ignored. It felt comparable in difficulty to a monster wave in the ruined world, or perhaps a slightly weaker version of it.

“If the 40th floor is on par with an S-rank Gate, what in the world is waiting for us higher up?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s only comparable to a single section of an S-rank Gate. We should be able to clear up to the 50th floor without too much trouble.”

Han Geon-joo answered the question, which had been a mix of excitement at the prospect of facing stronger enemies and an impatience to get out of the Gate. Up to the 50th floor is only halfway. Did that mean the remaining 50 floors would take two or three times as long as it had taken so far?

At a rough estimate, it seemed they could clear it in four to five days.

“Come to think of it, you weren’t S-class when you first entered this tower. You cleared it surprisingly fast, didn’t you?”

The speed they were currently achieving was only possible because there were three S-classes, one of whom was a top-tier summoner who could take on a hundred foes at once, and another of whom was Sa-yoon himself. If it had been three ordinary S-classes, they probably would have only cleared about 20 floors in a day. At his question, Han Geon-joo fell silent. Sa-yoon easily grasped the meaning behind that silence.

He couldn’t not know.

It was a tactic he himself often used.

So you don’t want to talk about it.

He couldn’t tell if it was a matter of pride or if he had a hidden ace up his sleeve.

“Playing hard to get, are we?”

“Why would you say that? Maybe I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Where in life is there ever a ‘just,’ pretty boy? Every incident and action is carried out with a clear will.”

“…That’s not wrong, but it’s strange hearing it from you, hyung.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes you just live without thinking.”

“What did you say, you punk?”

He shot up and glared down at him. Han Geon-joo looked back as if to say, Am I wrong? Only after pinching and stretching the insolent bastard’s cheek to his heart’s content did Sa-yoon realize the topic of conversation had been changed without him noticing.

He’s getting more cunning by the day.

He didn’t want to talk, so he sacrificed his own cheek to shut him up. The way he was now feigning an aching cheek after pulling off such a foxy move was infuriating.

“You’ve learned all the wrong things.”

“A disciple is a reflection of his master. You know I’ve only ever been under one person since I awakened, right?”

“Right. You were under a wolf once, as I recall.”

“…How did the conversation jump there?”

Han Geon-joo’s face crumpled. He looked as ashamed as someone whose deepest secret had been exposed and began to peck at Sa-yoon, asking him why he was bringing up something from so long ago. Finally seizing the upper hand in the conversation, Sa-yoon smirked and leaned back, propping himself up on his hands.

“It really has been a while. Do you remember when you were crying your eyes out in that field because you lost our base?”

“…”

“What was it you said then? Something like, ‘I don’t seem to be any help at all, so why did you bring me…'”

“…That’s enough.”

A palm clamped over the mouth that had been reciting his memories. Though he could have avoided it, Sa-yoon allowed the touch, pleased by Geon-joo’s reaction, and stared at the man’s reddening ear. The ear, flushed from the lobe to the tip, was even more noticeable against the stark white of the Fated Tower. Like a single drop of blood on a field of white snow.

‘Now that we’ve lost the base, I just feel like a loser.’

That sentiment, delivered with a sniffle and a trembling voice, might have been an emotion he could only show because he was younger then. He liked that. The way he revealed everything.

That day, the image of him docilely letting Sa-yoon twine his hair around his finger, looking up at him with stained eyes, was still vivid. The tear tracks under his eyes, his red nose. A small spark had ignited within him then, a feeling he had only perceived as ‘subtle’ at the time. Now, he could see it had a clear name.

Desire.

“Maybe the signs were there from the beginning…”

“What?”

“Your nerve, I mean. You were a lost cause from the start.”

He let out a small laugh as he slowly removed the hand. Han Geon-joo looked at him, utterly dumbfounded. Sa-yoon followed the movement of his facial muscles with obsessive focus, observing how his eyebrows rose, how his long-for-a-man eyelashes fluttered, and how his slightly upturned eyes moved when he frowned. As the silent exploration continued, Han Geon-joo drew back, showing his embarrassment.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“It just hit me how much you’ve grown.”

“…What are you talking about? Anyone would think you gave birth to me.”

“It’d be trashy to sleep with the one who gave birth to you, though.”

“…”

Han Geon-joo froze at the nonchalant remark. His eyes, filled with a shocked “how could you say that,” were tinged with horror and contempt. The way he reacted to every poke and prod was amusing. Sa-yoon chuckled, then pressed a hand down on Geon-joo’s head, ruffling it, before getting to his feet.

“Shall we go take on the 43rd floor?”

“We haven’t even been resting for an hour.”

“An hour is plenty. See, the day has already changed.”

He gestured with his chin at the clear time displayed on the tower’s system window and stretched. A simultaneous sigh escaped from both Lee Jaehee and Han Geon-joo.

Even after swiftly clearing the 43rd floor, the conquest continued. 50th floor, 60th, 70th… With every investment of time and physical exertion, the number of remaining floors decreased rapidly. Five days had passed inside the tower by the time they reached the 73rd floor.

“This is tougher than I thought.”

It was taking longer than his initial estimate. Sa-yoon caught his breath and wiped away the sweat. He didn’t know the last time he had sweated this much. As the floors went up, monsters on par with S-rank Gates were definitely appearing. Since each and every monster was at that level, the delay was unavoidable.

The 72nd floor, which they had just cleared, was even more difficult than a field. It had taken six hours even with Lee Jaehee’s summons all joining in. That said it all.

“You can assume that from the 75th floor onwards, the difficulty will be on the level of an uncleared Gate.”

“Really? So from the 90th, we’ll be getting transcendent S-rank Gates, then.”

“That’s right.”

“What?”

It was a simple answer, not a monotonous one. The Fated Tower was an L-rank Gate, so he wondered if another L-rank Gate would appear on the highest floors. He frowned, and his thoughts naturally drifted to the Festival of Harmony.

The Bone Dragon he had seen there.

And Han Geon-joo falling from…

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Sa-yoon’s eyes widened.

“Before. Before the mass regression, when you fell with the dragon. Was it because of this tower?”

So many things had happened after that—the interrogation and all—that he’d never gotten to the bottom of it. The memory hit him now with a sense of shock. Han Geon-joo nodded. It was a clean affirmation, devoid of any superfluous emotion.

And that made it even stranger.

But he said he was only in the tower for a year.

Something was twisted. He had put all the pieces together, but there was still a gap in the puzzle. Sa-yoon replayed their conversation from that day, the day Han Geon-joo had returned.

Lee Jaehee had said then that Han Geon-joo was hiding something more. Sa-yoon instinctively felt that his comment was connected to this missing puzzle piece. He grabbed Han Geon-joo’s shoulder.

“Pretty boy.”

“…What is it?”

“You have something to tell me, don’t you?”

No matter how he thought about it, it was impossible for Han Geon-joo to have cleared this tower in just one year. How could he have done it when he wasn’t even S-class? It would be impossible even with the System’s help. There was definitely something more. He looked him straight in the eye, and saw the black irises in front of him blur slightly.

“Um…”

The hesitant hum was just another way of saying he had no intention of answering.

“Are you not going to talk?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.”

Han Geon-joo, clearly reluctant, darted his eyes to the left, avoiding his gaze, before his eyes lit up as if he’d found a solution.

“Then let’s do this. I’ll tell you the story I’ve been hiding, and in exchange, you tell me the one you’ve been hiding. For instance, what happened inside that Gate…”

“…”

Sa-yoon scowled at the proposal.

“If you don’t want to, we can just both keep our secrets. Just like you have things you don’t want to say, I have things I don’t want to say, too.”

His words were logical. If one side had secrets, the other side could have them too. To speak or not to speak was a natural right. If one side had to tell the absolute truth while the other could hide whatever they damn well pleased, how could that be an equal relationship?

So Han Geon-joo was making a perfectly reasonable argument. And as long as Sa-yoon kept his own story hidden, it was an argument he couldn’t refute with logic.

Realizing this, Sa-yoon let out a small laugh.

It was not a laugh of resolution to change his ways, nor of acceptance of Han Geon-joo’s opinion.

“Pretty boy, do you know what I’m good at?”

“…Beating people to a pulp?”

His eyes seemed to ask, You’re not going to hit me, are you? Sa-yoon cheerfully shook his head.

“I’m good at that, too, but there’s something else.”

“What is it?”

“Double standards.”¹

“…”

“So stop trying to climb all over me and tell me while I’m being nice.”

He wasn’t holding a gun, but his words were as shameless and unreasonable as a robber’s. Han Geon-joo’s eyes went wide. In the distance, he thought he could hear Lee Jaehee sigh.