The Price of a Yawn
Across from each other on the outdoor terrace of a cafe near the Tower sat Kim Mu-saeng and Geum Soo-ah.
“Look, it’s Geumseong—Geum Soo-ah!”
“What is she doing here? Is Geumseong raiding the Tower today?”
“Geum Soo-ah wouldn’t move alone. But... there barely seem to be any Raid Headquarters personnel around, do there?”
Awakeners walking past flinched in surprise as they recognized her, but she paid them no mind.
“Who’s that sitting across from her?”
“No clue. Her boyfriend?”
“Pfft, a guy looking like that? As if.”
Trying to conceal her identity would only invite stranger misunderstandings, so her nonchalant posture was the sensible choice.
And as for Mu-saeng?
...Coffee hits the spot right now. Guess my body really is running on fumes.
He simply enjoyed his drink, entirely unbothered by the murmuring around them.
From the first floor to the third, he had cleared the standard conditions, the additional conditions, and the hidden conditions back-to-back without a single breath of respite. Counting back to the moment he had stepped into the 15th Dungeon alongside Lee Eunwoo, he had gone over fifty hours without shutting his eyes, trapped in a state of high tension with virtually zero rest.
I’m so tired I could collapse on the spot... but I have to hear this out. Wonder what kind of number she’s going to pitch.
His reason for not dodging Geum Soo-ah’s invitation was straightforward: he had a good idea why she had sought him out.
There was only one reason Geumseong and Geum Soo-ah would contact Park Hyun-gu to track him down. They were the one and only guild in South Korea to have breached the 66th floor. Naturally, this had to be about the 66th Dungeon. The fact that she already knew the poison’s progression and had tossed out the detail so casually was proof enough. And if she knew its potency as well?
She’s going to say, ‘Sell us the artifact.’ I need to hear at least a billion won up front. Then I can head over to an online auction or the black market and bid it up using ‘Geumseong offered a billion’ as the baseline. Heheheh. If I play my cards right with that shed skin, I might just buy myself an apartment.
As a rule, items did not drop inside the Tower. For Geumseong, having conquered the 66th floor and now preparing to conquer the 67th, wanting a trophy from the 66th Dungeon’s boss was entirely logical.
With the cash from that, if I pick up a few more artifacts... everything past the fourth floor should be smooth sailing. Yeah. For me, and for Yerin too—
“That was exhilarating,” Geum Soo-ah said suddenly, cutting through his thoughts with a bright, refreshing smile.
“Excuse me?”
“Managing Director Lee Eunwoo of One Way... Anyone who’s ever had the misfortune of dealing with him has wanted to put a fist through his face. It was utterly cathartic.”
To think she would bring up him shattering Lee Eunwoo’s jaw right out of the gate. Suddenly self-conscious, Mu-saeng merely nodded.
“Right.”
Geum Soo-ah watched his every micro-expression.
A man like this walked out of the 66th Dungeon alive... If there weren’t hard proof, nobody would ever believe it.
He was sitting there looking sheepish, quietly slurping his coffee. His physique looked reasonably well-conditioned, but that was where it ended. Drive, imposing presence, the unmistakable aura that bled from someone stacked with monstrous stats and overwhelming skills... In this man, that presence was effectively zero.
“How is life as a sherpa treating you?” she asked.
Mu-saeng gave a slight nod. “It puts food on the table.”
“You’re far too modest. The name of Ace Sherpa Kim Mu-saeng carries weight even inside Geumseong.”
“I’m still just a sherpa at the end of the day. It hardly compares to actually climbing the Tower. Besides, whatever comes out of a dungeon belongs entirely to the client...”
“Does it all truly belong to the client?” Geum Soo-ah pressed.
Her gaze sharpened, and Mu-saeng was sharp enough to catch the subtext immediately: If the artifact from the 66th Dungeon belongs to the client, shouldn’t it have gone to Lee Eunwoo?
“Of course,” Mu-saeng replied evenly. “Provided the contract remains in effect.”
In other words: I don’t owe a damn thing to backstabbing trash.
Geum Soo-ah broke into a radiant smile. “You’re thorough.”
“In our line of work, we live by the contract and die by the contract, don’t we?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Geum Soo-ah leaned forward across the table, her tone brimming with quiet confidence.
“In that case, may I offer you a contract of my own?”
“Be my guest.”
“We would like to acquire Omkim Inc. That includes full employment guarantees for CEO Park Hyun-gu and every other member of your staff.”
This was the real reason she had arranged the meeting.
“Fifteen billion won. Based on Omkim’s current revenue and operating margin, it’s a figure that makes no financial sense. However, the intangible value that your presence alone brings, Sherpa Kim Mu-saeng—”
It was a shock-and-awe offer designed to drop any ordinary person’s jaw to the floor and sweep them off their feet in an instant.
“Hwaaaaaaawwwwn... Ah, ugh. I am so, so sorry.”
Geum Soo-ah’s grand strategy crumbled beneath the weight of a single, massive yawn.
Mu-saeng looked genuinely mortified.
“...It’s quite all right,” she said, her smile freezing momentarily. “I should be embarrassed for presenting terms so dull they put you to sleep.”
“N-No, no, that’s really not it! I’m—ahem—I’m honestly just running on empty... Did they give me decaf? Why isn’t this waking me up?”
Dull terms? Not in a million years.
Hearing the astronomical figure of fifteen billion won had felt so surreal that he practically wondered if he were dreaming, which was what let the yawn slip loose. He had spent the last hour holding back exhaustion with everything he had, only for it to betray him at the absolute worst second.
Naturally, Geum Soo-ah had no way of knowing his inner turmoil.
“Very well. An outright acquisition... I can see why that might be unappealing,” she said smoothly, immediately pivoting to Plan B. “Then how does fifteen billion won sound under the condition of incorporating you as a subsidiary? A fifty-fifty split, or if you prefer, Omkim can retain a fifty-one percent controlling stake.”
Mu-saeng found himself even more flustered.
“Uh, well, you see, the thing is...”
What on earth is the difference between an acquisition and becoming a subsidiary?
He could hardly blurt out that question right now. All he grasped was that she was offering fifteen billion won. When it came to dungeons and sherpa protocol, he was an encyclopedia, but high finance was completely alien territory. All he could do was mumble under his breath.
Geum Soo-ah’s mind raced as she rapidly analyzed his hesitation.
He doesn’t want to be a subsidiary either...? I assumed he would jump at the bait while off-balance. The intelligence on the 66th floor alone could easily fetch billions from JK or Mirae. Let alone the secret of how he escaped... He understands his own leverage far better than I anticipated.
Whether her reading could truly be called an accurate analysis was up for debate, but her gears turned at maximum speed regardless.
No matter what, we have to lock him down first. We cannot afford to let information about the 66th floor leak to rival guilds. In that case, our only option is...
She exhaled softly, steadying her breath.
A woman who hadn’t blinked while tossing around fifteen billion won was now visibly tensing up.
“If becoming a subsidiary is off the table... how would you feel about working with me directly as a dungeon sherpa?”
“With you? But Geumseong already has its own dedicated roster of sherpas. There’s really no reason for me to babysit your new recruits through dungeons—”
“No, not recruits,” Geum Soo-ah interrupted. “With me. To be precise... with the elite core of our Raid Headquarters.”
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur as she leaned in closer.
“...I trust you will treat this with absolute discretion. What I am about to tell you is strictly off the record.”
She had to secure Kim Mu-saeng. To achieve that, she had resolved to divulge a piece of intelligence classified as top secret even within the highest echelons of Geumseong.
“We found it. The 67th Dungeon. Among the unverified gates currently registered, it is the one we suspect most strongly corresponds to the Tower’s 67th floor.”
[“An aquatic zone? Something broke off from there, too? The management is an absolute shitshow.”]
“Excuse me? What did you just—”
“Huh? What?”
“Wait... what?”
Wahsh had spoken.
Geum Soo-ah had reacted.
Mu-saeng was baffled.
Geum Soo-ah was equally baffled.
[“What?”] Wahsh squawked.
Two humans and one transcendent entity abruptly shut their mouths, staring at one another in stunned, blinking silence.
Shatter...!
“Aargh!”
A porcelain vase hurtled through the air and exploded against the wall. Soil, splintered roots, and dark droplets of blood from a torn forehead showered across the floor. In a matter of seconds, the pristine interior of the executive secretariat for Managing Director Lee Eunwoo at Korea One Way Group had been reduced to a pigsty.
“So you just walked back empty-handed?!”
Even after hurling the vase, Chief Secretary Jang Hagook’s fury showed no sign of abating. His chest heaved as he glared at the trembling subordinate.
“I-I am so sorry, Chief Jang!”
“B-But they told us... they said the Managing Director’s poison would naturally run its course and detoxify in about fifteen days...”
In point of fact, the dose of venom Mu-saeng had coated on Lee Eunwoo was minuscule. Less than half a droplet drawn from Sreyken’s Poison Fang had been spread across his entire fist, and only a tiny fraction of that striking surface had made contact with the skin. Practically speaking, it was barely a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a single drop. Moreover, because it was only smeared onto the surface of the flesh rather than injected deep into a vein, the potency was drastically diminished.
It aligned exactly with Geum Soo-ah’s assessment upon hearing that Lee Eunwoo had been admitted to the hospital. Two weeks of bed rest, and his body would clear the toxin on its own. Left alone, the problem would resolve itself.
“You goddamn brainless morons!”
That solution completely disregarded the precarious standing of Korea One Way Group as a mid-tier guild. Jang Hagook snatched a thick, heavy black binder off his desk and swung it violently into the secretary’s shoulder.
Though the hard corner struck with brutal force, the secretary dared not utter so much as a whimper. He merely clamped his hands behind his back and stood rigidly at attention.
“You should have dragged that Kim Mu-saeng bastard in by his scruff, beaten the living daylights out of him, and forced the words out of his mouth! If you were just going to nod along to whatever Geum Soo-ah fed you and parrot it back to me, what the hell do I pay you for?! Are you a glorified telephone?! Are you Geumseong’s PR department?!”
Unsubstantiated rumors and blind-item gossip were already running rampant across the community boards. Had Mu-saeng publicly spoken out, it might have been manageable, but his complete silence had only poured gasoline on the public’s wild imagination.
Lee Eunwoo’s stock had plunged into freefall.
To Awakeners braving the lethal depths of the Tower and dungeons, the single most dangerous hazard was an untrustworthy teammate. At this rate, no climber in their right mind would ever agree to form a party with Lee Eunwoo. Of course, with the chaebol group’s backing, the boy himself would survive the fallout for a time. But what about the guild’s prestige?
With the chairman’s own grandson exposed as a cowardly liability, severe damage to the brand was unavoidable. The volume of capable Awakeners applying to Korea One Way Group would plummet, while talent poaching and resignations would skyrocket.
And would Lee Eunwoo be the one held accountable for the fallout?
Not a chance.
Jang Hagook, the Chief Secretary tasked with managing the young master’s affairs, would be the scapegoat left holding the bag.
“Park Dohyun. Section Chief Park.”
“Yes, Chief Jang.”
He refused to let that happen. Jang Hagook stalked across the room, his eyes bloodshot with frantic malice. Unlike the battered administrative staff, Section Chief Park Dohyun and his tactical personnel still looked relatively intact. They were the security detail who had accompanied Lee Eunwoo into the 15th Dungeon.
“Just because you cleared the 37th floor, you think you’re above answering to me?”
“Not at all, sir.”
Park Dohyun did not belong to the secretariat, but corporate hierarchy still held sway: an executive department head vastly outranked a mere section chief. Jang Hagook jabbed a rigid index finger repeatedly into Dohyun’s chest, emphasizing every syllable.
“Dig into Kim Mu-saeng’s background. Deep. Do you hear me? Do not let the shit you took splash back up onto my desk.”
“...Understood, sir. I will do my utmost.”
Park Dohyun endured the humiliation without allowing even a flicker of annoyance onto his features. Jang Hagook scrutinized his disciplined expression for several tense seconds before sharply turning his back.
“Get your acts together. That means you, Park Dohyun, and every last one of you.”
A simple chorus of agreement would have brought the tirade to an end. Yet one of the battered secretaries, nursing his bruised ego, could not resist digging his own grave.
“B-But even if we dig into him... it’s illegal to use combat skills in municipal zones, and with Geumseong keeping tabs on him, abduction would be—”
Crack!
“Aargh!”
Jang Hagook’s fist slammed square into the man’s jaw. As the secretary crashed over a row of chairs in a heap, the chief secretary’s roar shook the office walls.
“You useless sack of shit! Are you even an Awakener?! We have dungeons, you brain-dead ape! Find out when he enters a dungeon! Which dungeon he’s stepping into! Who he’s going inside with! Figure that out first, and then make your move! Once you’re inside a dungeon, you can rip the antidote from his hands and drag his corpse out, or tear out his tongue while he’s still breathing and haul him in alive! Bring me the antidote and Kim Mu-saeng! Both of them! Do you understand me, you useless bastards?!”
“Y-Yes, sir! Understood!”
Every staff member in the room barked in unison.
Jang Hagook drew in a ragged, shuddering breath and squeezed his fists until his knuckles turned bone-white.
“Burn this into your skulls... If we don’t capture that bastard Mu-saeng before the Managing Director recovers, every single one of us is finished. The very instant he steps into a dungeon, we strike.”
They had to drag Kim Mu-saeng down.
If they wanted to survive.
With their backs pressed firmly against the wall, the personnel of Korea One Way began mobilizing into the shadows.