The Principle of Good Faith
The executive conference room at Geumseong’s Euljiro headquarters was cloaked in heavy shadow. Despite the sprawling table and rows of empty leather chairs, only four people were present.
"Deputy Head Geum," the man sitting in the second seat spoke, breaking the silence. "Wasn't the agreed ceiling ten billion won? I believe I made it quite clear that even that figure was excessive, instructing you to negotiate the steepest discount possible. And yet... you tacked on an additional five billion?"
The speaker was Yoon Pyo, General Manager of Geumseong Group's Raid Headquarters, aide to the Chairman, and raid leader of the 66th Floor Expedition. His voice was placid, his diction immaculate, but no one in the room failed to grasp the chilling undertone beneath his polite cadence. Behind Geum Soo-ah, Secretary Choi Ji-hye stood with her knees visibly trembling.
Geum Soo-ah, however, did not waver.
"I judged him to be worth the price," she replied evenly. "One Way had already made their move, accelerating the commotion. It was only a matter of time before the Mirae or JK guilds caught wind of the situation. Even if it increased our upfront investment, decisive action was necessary to secure him swiftly and discreetly. Fifteen billion today could easily become thirty billion tomorrow, or a hundred and fifty billion in a month."
Yoon Pyo countered without missing a beat. "First, you failed to secure him. Second, five billion is hardly 'a little' more. Third, there was no need to calculate the matter with such reckless haste. Do you have anything to say to that?"
"To your first point: to preempt another ambush from One Way, Sherpa Kim Mu-saeng is currently staying at our five-star affiliate hotel," Soo-ah fired back just as swiftly. "It's a standard suite, completely free of wiretaps or surveillance, but accommodating him there allows us to monitor his general movements while fostering goodwill and trust toward Geumseong. Second, if the company cannot justify the extra five billion, I am prepared to cover it out of my personal funds. And third... point taken. However, given our headquarters' core philosophy of valuing human assets above all else, I do not believe my assessment was in error."
Yoon Pyo's brow twitched faintly. Geum Soo-ah met his piercing gaze head-on—a stark contrast to her secretary, who had clamped her eyes shut in terror.
"I am not suggesting we cannot afford the expenditure," Yoon Pyo said coolly. "My point concerns the baseline valuation—"
"And I am telling you the baseline valuation itself was underestimated from the start," Soo-ah interrupted. "Secretary Choi, please distribute the updated materials."
"Y-Yes, ma'am."
"As you review the dossier," Soo-ah continued, "you will find the projected functions of his artifact, calculated after a rigorous reassessment of the 66th floor's clear conditions and the boss monster's behavioral patterns."
Choi Ji-hye hurried forward, placing copies before Yoon Pyo and the imposing figure seated at the head of the table. Yoon Pyo immediately began scrutinizing the figures with methodical precision. The man at the head of the table, however, simply riffled through the pages with a brisk thwip-thwip-thwip, pausing only when his thumb reached the final sheet.
Soo-ah seized the opening to elaborate. "As outlined in the attachment, there is greater than a ninety-five percent probability that his artifact possesses an S-rank poison resistance effect. That alone guarantees a market value of at least three billion won. Furthermore, while unverified, our classified intelligence indicates that the 67th floor is an aquatic biome. If its denizens—anemones, jellyfish, and the like—wield lethal neurotoxins, the survival benefits Kim Mu-saeng's artifact could provide to Geumseong's vanguard would be—"
"Soo-ah."
"Yes, Fa—pardon, Chairman."
The man tossed the dossier onto the mahogany table with a soft thud. "Have you seen him? The sherpa."
"I met with him and conversed at length," she replied, "but I have not yet observed him in action."
A low, contemplative rumble resonated from the man's chest. "A corporation is measured in numbers," the Chairman murmured, his tone deep and measured. "A human being, however, must be judged with your own eyes."
"...Understood, sir."
"Go see for yourself. Watch him closely. Then we shall talk again."
Geum Byeong-cheol rose from his seat. Yoon Pyo snapped to his feet an instant later, falling in behind him. As the Chairman strode toward the exit, the overhead downlights finally caught his imposing silhouette—silver-streaked hair slicked back with pomade, a muscular frame so massive it strained the seams of his tailored suit, and pitch-black sunglasses worn even in the dimly lit chamber.
Just before stepping through the doorway, Geum Byeong-cheol paused, glancing over his broad shoulder. "Oh, by the way... that note on the last page under Miscellaneous Remarks: 'Third-party voice detected, but source unverified.' What did you mean by that?"
Geum Byeong-cheol, fifty-four years old—the officially recognized apex Awakener of South Korea.
Soo-ah masked her embarrassment, clearing her throat. "Th-That entry is literal, sir. The moment I mentioned the 67th floor, an odd sound reverberated through the space. I couldn't ascertain who spoke, or if my senses were simply playing tricks on me..."
"What did it say?"
"Something about... things falling behind? I couldn't make it out clearly. It was distorted, like static-heavy noise, muttering something about 'admin' or 'management'... My apologies, sir. It is entirely unverified, anecdotal information."
It was a detail she had agonized over until the last second before submitting the report. Putting it into an official corporate document felt absurd, lacking any tangible evidence. Yet omitting it had left an uncomfortable prickle in her gut. In the end, she had yielded to her intuition. And her father knew his daughter's instincts all too well.
"Heh-heh. Very well. Noted."
The heavy doors slid open and hissed shut behind them. Walking down the polished marble corridor, Geum Byeong-cheol murmured under his breath, "Admin, is it...?"
Behind the opaque dark lenses of his sunglasses, a pair of pristine, tiger-white eyes gleamed with dangerous interest.
Kim Mu-saeng ran a hand through his ruffled bedhead, collecting the supplies delivered right outside his hotel suite. "Five-star concierge service really is something else," he mused, strapping a harness into place. "Bringing specialized sherpa gear straight to the door like room service. Gotta hand it to Geumseong."
Floating beside his ear, Wahsh stared at him in disbelief. "You slept for twenty-four continuous hours. I never knew human physiology was capable of slumbering like a dead carcass."
"A pro knows when to dump accumulated fatigue. If I'm going to push through the 4th floor climb with everything I've got, thorough preparation is mandatory."
Mu-saeng twisted his torso side to side, working out the remaining kinks in his spine. Wahsh tilted his yellow duck head, horn-rimmed glasses slipping down his beak.
"The 4th floor? You aren't heading to the 67th Dungeon?"
"The 67th? Why the hell would I go there?"
Mu-saeng swiped his key card, stepped out into the carpeted hallway, and let out a light chuckle. Wahsh bobbed through the air, circling Mu-saeng's shoulders with an agitated flap of his wings.
"I may not be versed in the barbaric customs of your primitive species, but Kim Mu-saeng... didn't you accept that female's hospitality and sleep under her roof precisely because you intended to accept her terms?"
From Wahsh's perspective, accepting Geumseong's luxurious lodging was equivalent to taking Geum Soo-ah's offer to guide their elite raid in Dungeon 67.
"Don't be ridiculous," Mu-saeng scoffed as they entered the elevator. "A massive conglomerate like Geumseong isn't petty enough to hold a single hotel room over my head. And if they do, I'll just pay the bill."
"That female possesses savage, formidable power," Wahsh argued, his spectacles gleaming. "Considering her personal strength and the syndicate backing her, aligning with them is the far superior path, is it not?"
Mu-saeng shook his head, striding out into the grand lobby. Behind the marble front desk, a receptionist noticed him and discreetly picked up a smartphone, dialling a number. Mu-saeng didn't pay it any mind. He had far more pressing matters waiting outside the automatic glass doors.
Wahsh darted forward, hovering directly in front of Mu-saeng's nose to block his path. "Kim Mu-saeng, answer me based on that precious 'Principle of Good Faith' you love to preach. Isn't joining hands with them the fastest way to ascend the Tower?"
Mu-saeng regarded the serious scowl on the rubber duck's face for a brief second. Their contract dictated that both parties must exert their utmost effort to fulfill their shared objectives. From Wahsh's alien logic, latching onto South Korea's greatest guild was the most optimal shortcut imaginable.
A valet pulled Mu-saeng's car up to the curb with a smooth purr of the engine. Mu-saeng stepped around the duck, tipped the valet, and slid into the driver's seat.
Wahsh phased through the passenger window, perching indignantly on the dashboard. "Answer me, human! You who claims to live and die by contracts—why do you refuse to join forces with that female?"
The engine roared to life as Mu-saeng eased the vehicle out into the morning traffic. "Let me ask you something instead, Wahsh. Would it matter to you if someone other than me reached the top of the Tower?"
Wahsh blinked behind his spectacles.
"The core condition of our contract," Mu-saeng explained calmly, "is that when I reach the pinnacle, I participate in your revenge. Your condition was never 'find the fastest climber and ride their coattails.' If someone else conquers the Tower while I'm stuck trailing behind as their hired help, I won't be in any position to tear down your enemies. Am I right?"
Wahsh remained silent, processing the logic.
"To honor our contract in good faith," Mu-saeng continued, "I must choose the path where I climb to the apex on my own two feet. If I tie myself to Geumseong right now, running their errands in Dungeon 67 and beyond, it won't be me standing at the summit. It'll be them."
Wahsh gritted his beak, let out a frustrated squawk, and slumped backward onto the dash. "Curse it all... I should have drafted the contractual clauses with far more nuance."
Mu-saeng smirked, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "That's how contracts work, buddy. Consider it tuition. Back when I was carrying bags for bottom-tier climbers, I got stabbed in the back more times than I can count. A single misplaced comma can turn a goldmine into a death warrant."
"Are you daring to compare a transcendent intellect such as mine to an illiterate savage like yourself?!"
"Hey, when it comes to legal loopholes and negotiations, we'd have to put it to a vote to see who's really the savage."
"You insolent insect! Do you have any idea how many millennia I've existed in Tower CX—"
"Look at that," Mu-saeng interrupted, tapping the glass of the rearview mirror. "Tailing me like goldfish shit."
"Wh-What?!" Wahsh bristled, about to throw a tantrum over the vulgar phrasing before realizing Mu-saeng wasn't talking to him.
Reflected in the glass were three sleek black SUVs and two heavily tinted vans, maintaining a tight, aggressive formation behind his bumper. Their identity wasn't even a question.
"Tsk. Well, I can't keep dragging this goldfish tail behind me forever," Mu-saeng murmured, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Wahsh, quick question."
"What?"
"Your power. Executing with Administrator Authority. Exactly what scale, potency, and scope can you pull off inside a dungeon?"
Wahsh let out a dry, chilling chuckle. "Inside a dungeon? The moment those vermin step across the threshold, I can execute an administrative deletion. I could wipe their very data from reality, erasing them as if they never existed."
He spoke with such casual indifference that it sent a shiver down Mu-saeng's spine.
"A bit extreme, don't you think?" Mu-saeng grimaced. "No need to go that far."
To be frank, Mu-saeng would love nothing more than to wipe them out. But pragmatism had to take precedence over emotion.
"No need? Why spare the vermin?"
"Because doing that would flip Korea One Way Group completely on its head."
Korea One Way Group boasted 1,358 total employees, 474 of whom were registered Awakeners. They were a heavyweight syndicate currently assaulting the late 40th floors, with deep, pervasive roots across Southeast Asia. If their entire strike force vanished without a trace, the syndicate would mobilize every resource they possessed to hunt Mu-saeng down like a rabid dog. Stirring that hornet's nest was reckless suicide.
"Then what is your objective?"
"That's why I'm asking about your parameters," Mu-saeng said, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the angles. "I need to know the exact boundaries of what you can manipulate so I can formulate the play. Running away ends today. I'm severing our bad blood with One Way right here."
Wahsh narrowed his eyes behind his thick glasses, a smug glint surfacing. "Hmph. And why should I lend my divine intervention to such petty squabbles?"
Mu-saeng grinned broadly. "Because of the Principle of Good Faith, of course! Ensuring the survival and strategic advantage of your contractor is an explicit contractual duty. Isn't that right, partner?"
"...Dammit. I really should have hired an attorney before signing with you."
"Heh. Let's verify a few details first. Can you—"
The car hummed down the expressway as Mu-saeng fired off questions and Wahsh grumbled out answers. Condition after condition was established, limits tested, parameters defined.
"Are you positive your system won't crash again?" Mu-saeng checked. "Last time you exerted power, your voice was glitching out with static."
"My disk defragmentation concluded long ago!" Wahsh snapped defensively. "The current download rate is more than sufficient to handle this tier of minor interference! Stop insulting my administrative capacity!"
"Right, right. Sorry for worrying about you."
Screeeeech!
Mu-saeng wrenched the steering wheel, ripping through a screeching, illegal U-turn across three lanes. Behind him, the convoy of black vehicles immediately followed suit, rubber smoking against asphalt as they accelerated in frantic pursuit.
'Look at them scramble,' Mu-saeng thought coldly. 'Their asses must be on absolute fire.'
His destination was already set.
Mu-saeng pulled into the staging area outside an active dungeon gate, slamming the brakes and leaping out of the car before the engine had even settled. Ignoring every parking line in the lot, the chasing SUVs and vans skidded to a chaotic halt, their doors flying open as an army of suits poured out in frantic disarray.
Mu-saeng recognized several of their faces instantly—especially the man leading the charge.
"Kim Mu-saeng!"
"Well, well. If it isn't Section Chief Park," Mu-saeng called out, offering Park Dohyun a mocking salute. "Looking for the antidote? It's right here in my pocket. Come and get it if you've got the guts."
That single remark tripped the wire.
"G-Get him!"
"Don't let him slip away! If we bring that bastard back—!"
"We survive! It's an instant promotion!"
Not a vague treatment method, but a guaranteed, ready-made antidote. Driven mad by desperation and fear of their superiors, the One Way agents lunged forward in a frenzied stampede.
Mu-saeng didn't wait. Spinning on his heel, he threw himself headfirst into the shimmering gate, passing through the boundary where pitch-black, viscous mana dripped like tar down the spatial rift.
A dungeon perfectly mirroring the hazardous terrain of the Tower's 22nd floor.
Right behind him, thirty-one elite operatives of the Korea One Way Group breached the portal in hot pursuit, tumbling out into a suffocating, untamed jungle of murky swamps and tangled mangrove roots reminiscent of the deepest Amazon.