Bong Minhyeok was a second-year electronic engineering student at Korea University.
His nickname was “Dtem,” derived from a computer game unit that could conceal itself. He was a student who came to school quietly and disappeared just as quietly, leaving no impression. He never attended department MT trips or sports festivals, and had never been to a single dinner gathering.
He only studied in the library. His goal was to graduate quickly, get a job, and raise his family’s status. And to repay his debt to his older brother.
Even such a Minhyeok knew all too well about players. If he awakened, he might at least consider it. Not that he’d do it, but just consider it. He knew he wouldn’t go through with it in the end.
But his brother had awakened? And was even active as a player?
That alone was shocking enough, but what? An elite contract? Was this really his flesh and blood who used to get smacked by their mother?
Slap slap slap slap!
“Aaaaargh!” Juhyeok screamed.
“You ungrateful brat! How dare you make such an important decision without consulting your family?” his mother scolded.
“You’d have opposed it anyway!” Juhyeok retorted.
“Did you even ask? Did you?” she demanded.
“Ouch! Stop hitting me. I might just activate my shield,” Juhyeok threatened.
“What? Shield? Have you lost your mind?”
That was just like his brother. He knew exaggerating his screams would result in fewer hits.
“Ow! Aaaah! Aaaaargh!”
Tired from the beating, Hong Geum-ja, their mother, was catching her breath. Seizing the opportunity, Minhyeok asked Juhyeok:
“Hyung, c-calm down and tell us. You’ve not only awakened, but you’re even active as a player?”
“Yeah.”
“And the government even requested an elite contract?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Holy shit, that’s unbelievable.”
“It’s true.”
Their father, Bong Soo-cheol, was also shocked. Wasn’t this the son even more timid than himself?
“You… are you really my son?” he asked in disbelief.
Juhyeok, annoyed from the beating and his father’s lack of intervention, decided to be a bit cheeky.
“I don’t know, maybe I was switched at birth in the hospital?”
Soo-cheol scrutinized Juhyeok’s face. It was an exact copy. They were so alike that people always said there was no way Juhyeok wasn’t his.
“Then you must have developed a mental problem,” Soo-cheol concluded.
“Sigh, I suppose so? Must be genetic,” Juhyeok quipped.
“I didn’t raise you to be this brave. Dad is disappointed in you.”
“I guess so. …Maybe it’s Mom’s genes?”
Glare!
His mother glared at him. But feeling guilty for hitting him, she sighed and said:
“Juhyeok.”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Is my lawsuit, your dad’s rehab, and Minhyeok’s scholarship… are all these related to your elite contract?”
“…That’s right. Honestly, I didn’t know either. I didn’t think they’d go this far.”
He hadn’t asked the Management Office to do this, but it had happened because of him nonetheless.
“So you mean… the Management Office people needed to impress us to make an elite contract with you?”
“Umm, probably.”
“Is that so?”
Would he get scolded? He might get hit again.
“I’m sorry for surprising you,” Juhyeok apologized.
Hong Geum-ja didn’t respond. Instead, she thought deeply for a moment, then asked:
“How do you feel about it, Juhyeok?”
“About what?”
“Being a player. Is it manageable?”
Her question made Juhyeok ponder once more.
“So far, it’s been fine,” he replied cautiously.
“And… are you confident you won’t get hurt?”
Let’s see. There was Kozak, who protected him excessively. And Gobang, the barbarian warrior who threw himself into battle without a care for his own body. Plus, he could summon another being when the cooldown was over.
So,
“I’m confident. Confident I won’t get hurt or die,” Juhyeok declared.
“…Really?”
Was he sincere or not? Hong Geum-ja stared into her son’s eyes for a long time.
He was sincere. Having raised him for so long, she could tell just by his eyes.
In truth, when she first heard about his player activities, she was more surprised than angry. Him? The eldest son who would startle at a Chihuahua’s bark was climbing the tower?
Moreover, he was being recognized by others. It stirred mixed emotions. She felt angry, worried, and proud all at once.
So,
“Then go for it. Sign the elite contract too. It’s better to have the government’s support while you’re at it,” she declared.
Her father and Minhyeok immediately opposed her decision in unison.
“Have you lost your mind?” Soo-cheol exclaimed.
“Mom! No way. Do you know how dangerous being a player is?” Minhyeok protested.
“That’s right, Minhyeok’s correct. Who cares about the rehab? I’m calling the hospital right now. Let’s pretend this never happened,” Soo-cheol insisted.
“I’ll return the scholarship too. I’m taking a break next semester anyway,” Minhyeok added.
Though his father and brother opposed, once his mother had decided, the game was already over.
“Everyone, be quiet. In all my years, this is the first time our Juhyeok has actively decided on something. If you can’t support him, at least-“
Oh! The atmosphere was good.
“Juhyeok’s mom, think about it one more time. It’s dangerous, I’m telling you!” Soo-cheol pleaded.
“Do all players die? That’s an old story. Nowadays, they all live well,” she countered.
“Ah, well, that’s true, but-“
“And isn’t the outside world dangerous too? You were so careful, yet you almost died slipping on ice, remember?”
“Umm…”
“Minhyeok, have you forgotten how you passed out bleeding after being hit by a bicycle when you were 10? What if it had been a car? Would you have survived?”
“Th-that’s too much,” Minhyeok mumbled.
“Juhyeok is an adult. He’s responsible for his own life.”
Then, turning to Juhyeok, she said:
“Juhyeok.”
“Yes, ma’am!” he responded crisply.
“I might seem like a bad mother pushing her child into danger, but I’m proud of you. Your talent must be extraordinary for the government to go to such lengths.”
“Hahaha, well, I am… quite exceptional,” Juhyeok admitted sheepishly.
“But if you get hurt, you’re dead! And if you feel it’s not working out, terminate the contract immediately.”
“Understood. Safety first, absolutely.”
“What’s with that way of speaking?”
With his family’s permission secured, it was time to make the call. Juhyeok dialed Team Leader Jeon Kwang-il’s number on his smartphone.
“Team Leader.”
“Have you decided?” Kwang-il asked.
“Yes, let’s sign the contract.”
“I’ll send a car right away.”
Finally, an elite contract. His heart was racing.
***
Juhyeok signed the elite contract at the Management Office.
His hand trembled as he signed. Had he ever imagined he’d be signing such a contract?
“The annual salary is 2 billion won,” he noted.
“We apologize. The initial annual salary for players offered elite contracts is 2 billion won. You could receive much more, but…” Kwang-il explained.
“…In exchange for revealing that I’m an S++ grade conquest record holder, right?”
“That’s the procedure, yes.”
It was a government agency operated with tax money. They needed justification to increase salaries.
“Hmm, please keep the fact that I’m an S++ grade conquest record holder a secret. This is crucial!” Juhyeok insisted.
“That’s what we want too. By the way, I hope you’re not displeased that the benefits are similar to other elite players.”
“Oh no, not at all!” Juhyeok assured him.
He was more than grateful for 2 billion won. Not to mention the income from magic stones.
What if his identity was exposed and his personal information made public? His face would be spread across TV, media, SNS, his family would be flustered, and it would be difficult to go out…
The thought alone was terrifying. That’s why he hadn’t told his family he was an S++ grade conquest record holder. He’d keep it hidden as long as possible.
There was another reason for accepting just the basic salary. He had set many conditions when signing the contract.
As Kozak had mentioned: The decision to climb unconquered floors was entirely up to him. There must be no external interference. No conquest video recordings allowed.
He had disclosed that his characteristic was Summoning. However, he wouldn’t reveal the existence of his summonees.
He accepted protection but demanded maximum guarantee of personal life. No one could enter his home without permission. Security CCTVs only outside the house.
“Oh! The loan you took out to buy the alloy hand shield has been cleared.”
“…Again?”
“What do you mean, again?”
“Ah, nothing.”
It was strange. Every time he took out a loan, it disappeared naturally without needing repayment. It happened with Smile Cash, and now with the Player Shop.
Was this a divine message that he could borrow money recklessly?
“If you need any other equipment, just ask anytime. We can lend them too.”
Powerful support. Meticulous care.
And so, Juhyeok was reborn as an elite player.
The move was decided quickly too. It didn’t matter if it was delayed, but the Management Office wanted an immediate move.
Separate residences for himself and his family. Many elite players made such requests, so it wasn’t an issue.
However, his personal officetel was free rent. The family apartment was registered under Juhyeok’s name as a reward for joining the elite team.
The Management Office handled all related procedures.
“It’s an 18-pyeong, two-room officetel. Appliances and furniture are included as options, so you can move in right away,” Kwang-il explained.
“…”
Was this place a palace? This was insane. It was so clean and comfortable.
Had he ever seen such a nice place before?
“…There aren’t any hidden cameras, right?” Juhyeok asked cautiously.
“Absolutely not. That would cause an uproar. If we were caught, the Director would have to resign. You can call in professionals to check if you’d like,” Kwang-il assured him.
Juhyeok felt bad for being suspicious.
“Also, because this officetel is provided by the Management Office, many players live here. Almost all of them, in fact.”
“Are they all elite team players?”
“There are regular contractors too. They bought their units. It’s safe here.”
“…I see.”
Gathering them in one place must make security easier.
“All residents have verified identities. There are many good people, so it might be nice to make friends.”
Make friends? That sounded burdensome.
The move began. He thought he wouldn’t have many things to take, but in reality, it wasn’t so. So, moving and organizing took quite some time.
***
Yoo Cheol-min was Korea’s highest-level player and ranked second worldwide.
He had conquered the formidable 65th floor and was now challenging the 66th.
His characteristic was All Weapon Warrior. Through characteristic enhancement runes, he could use 40 characteristic skills of fire, ice, lightning, and earth attributes. He could use any weapon.
He had multiple area-of-effect skills, finishing moves, and ultimate skills. Each one was powerful.
Thus, Yoo Cheol-min had achieved both wealth and fame in Korea. Every citizen knew his name, even if they didn’t know the president’s.
But lately, he had been in a foul mood. Because of someone who was setting 25 consecutive S++ grade conquest records.
‘Who the hell is it?’ he wondered.
It was all anyone talked about on broadcasts and SNS. Meanwhile, he was struggling to conquer the 66th floor.
‘Fuck, all this fuss over just the 25th floor,’ he thought bitterly.
How could they even compare? What if he stopped conquering the 66th floor?
The countdown to Korea’s tower collapse would begin. Although the current tower was in a rural area of Gangwon-do, causing relatively little damage, what if the next tower appeared near a major city?
Currently, there wasn’t a single player in Korea who could replace him. There was one other player in the early 60s, but that bitch was only at characteristic enhancement stage 2.
Yoo Cheol-min approached the apartment window, wine glass in hand. The expansive view showed the Han River flowing serenely.
He lived in a 100-pyeong penthouse apartment. Though provided by the government, he now felt it was quite unsatisfactory.
Even though he received the highest salary,
‘Is this all?’
China had been persistently reaching out through brokers. An annual salary of 1 billion yuan, about 180 billion won. A mansion with caretakers, bulletproof cars, a private jet, treatment on par with national leaders.
And Japan? 20 billion yen annual salary, a luxury villa, 10 dedicated maids to cater to his every whim… promises of the utmost treatment and pleasure.
He could go to either. Yet he should be grateful for staying in Korea?
As always, all attention should remain focused on him. The media should have praised his dedication to his country and people daily.
Not the 25th floor S++ grade conquest records.
‘Should I just naturalize somewhere else?’
The 66th floor conquest was already challenging enough. It was an extremely difficult section. After each attempt, he needed three days to recover from the mental toll.
The 60s marked the beginning of the undead section. The 66th floor was infested with creatures called Specters.
Ghost-like forms that sent chills down your spine just by looking at them, immune to physical attacks and only affected by attribute attacks.
It would be a grave mistake to think of them as typical undead from fiction. Only those who had experienced it knew how terrifying their magical energy was.
‘How did that American player bastard defeat these things?’ he wondered.
Even with accessories and elixirs to withstand the “Dark Aura” and light attribute weapons rewarded from the tower, he failed every time.
It was fortunate he hadn’t died yet. He could declare mission abandonment in time.
‘Honestly, it doesn’t seem possible…’
This was a major reason why he was considering naturalization. He wanted to give up. It felt like he had hit an insurmountable wall. At this rate, the 66th floor was impossible.
He wanted to declare abandonment and park at the 60s, but would people let him? They were favorable when things were going well, but once you slipped up, they’d tear you apart like a pack of dogs. That was human nature.
If he could get one more characteristic enhancement rune, it might be different. But characteristic enhancement runes were extremely rare rewards, very difficult to obtain.
He had monopolized all the characteristic enhancement runes since the beginning of his elite contract, allowing him to reach stage 4 enhancement.
‘What if I do naturalize?’
China or Japan.
In China’s case, they were challenging the 59th floor. For Japan, the 57th floor.
He could probably conquer those while taking it easy. Just climb once every six months, on the condition of preventing tower collapse.
“Hmm,” he mused.
It was becoming more and more tempting. Why not act on these thoughts?
‘The 66th floor conquest seems hopeless anyway…’
He’d be criticized for failing to conquer it, and he’d be criticized for naturalizing…
No, that’s not right. At least he’d be welcomed in the country he naturalized to.
If he went to Japan or China and took it easy while receiving massive support, wouldn’t things be different from now?
‘I should push forward with this.’
By pitting China and Japan against each other, slowly and leisurely increasing his value.