The Secret of Floor Fifty-Eight

Kim Mu-saeng poured over the intelligence reports recovered from Southeast Asia One Way Group, finally piecing together the true nature of Floor 58.

The 58th floor was an endless arctic glacier.

There was no time limit. Climbers were dropped onto an apparently boundless expanse of ice with a single directive: wander the frozen waste, locate the floor boss, and eliminate it.

Vicious predators could burst through the ice at any second. Crevasses split open without warning. The temperature plunged past an absurd seventy degrees below zero Celsius, and there was no telling how long one would have to search before encountering the boss. For Awakened hailing from Southeast Asia—notoriously ill-suited to biting cold—it was an absolute living hell.

Yet nestled among those brutal survival logs, one particular passage caught Mu-saeng's eye.

It was noted under the peculiar anomalies section of Vietnam One Way's ascent record—a detail completely absent from the earlier logs of Thailand One Way, who had breached the floor before them.

"Vivid crimson flowers that refuse to wilt even in seventy-below cold... and there isn't a single word about them in Thailand One Way's logs."

Mu-saeng looked down at Wahsh.

The yellow rubber duck nudged his black horn-rimmed glasses slightly higher on his bill. Mu-saeng asked, "Is it possible for the Tower's instances to break?"

At its core, the Tower operated on an instanced framework. Even so, the possibility remained that a floor could overlap with a stage traversed by a previous Awakener. Mu-saeng knew that reality all too well.

"Just like a dungeon tangle... right?"

Dungeon 66 bursting right out of the belly of Dungeon 15 was living proof. While he had never heard of the Tower itself tangling, it made complete sense. In the Tower, there was no retreat. If a spatial tangle occurred where escape scrolls were useless and retreat was impossible, only death awaited. Naturally, no rumors would ever leak out to the public.

Wahsh snorted dismissively. [If I were managing it, such a thing would never happen. But under these current fools? It is an entirely possible bug.]

With those words, a surge of fierce hope flared in Mu-saeng's chest.

"Alright. Then that means Yerin might have cleared Floor 58 and moved on. No—since Floor 58 was her last recorded location data, she could still be wandering around there right now, looking for the boss!"

Alive, and yet to clear the floor.

Joo Yerin was alive. In fact, the probability had just skyrocketed.

Mu-saeng pressed Wahsh again. "Wait, if Vietnam One Way took down the 58th floor boss, would Yerin have been cleared along with the tangle? What do you think?"

[Kkwak? You dare ask me that?] Wahsh scoffed. Such a glitch had never occurred back when he ruled as a high-ranking Administrator. Furthermore, he had spent the subsequent years actively transmitting his essence into Mu-saeng's body, meaning he had no way of knowing how corrupted the system had become. If anything, Wahsh was the one bursting with questions. [Kim Mu-saeng, how can you be so certain from these crude logs alone that it belongs to this Joo Yerin? I told you Floor 58 was her last known location, but she could have tangled with anyone—]

"Flower arranging. It's a skill Yerin invented herself."

[...Kwak?]

Mu-saeng's conviction was absolute.

It was Joo Yerin's innate ability: Florist(E).

"Making flowers bloom quickly and accelerating plant growth? Pfft, isn't that basically the same as my Transmit(X)?"

"Now that hurts my feelings. Tell me, what's the very first thing a plant has to do in order to grow?"

"Huh?"

"It has to take root, doesn't it?"

"...Sure. What about it?"

An E-grade ability was never supposed to amount to much. That was common sense throughout Awakened society—and Mu-saeng had believed the same at first.

"She'd scatter seeds indiscriminately across a monster's hide and force them to sprout instantly... There are plenty of plant-type Awakeners in the world, but nobody weaponized it quite so ruthlessly—ahem, skillfully—as Yerin."

Until she had discovered that revolutionary application entirely on her own, no one had imagined it was possible.

Roots plunged deep through hide, muscle, and bone in the blink of an eye. She would drain the beast of every ounce of vitality, then casually finish off the hollowed-out husk with effortless precision.

"Isn't that... a little too cruel?"

"Compared to burning them alive, roasting them, freezing them, or gutting them with blades? It's infinitely better! And look, they're covered in lovely flowers when it's over. Doesn't it look pretty? Think of it as sending the monster off to the afterlife with a condolence bouquet. People usually use fake plastic flowers for that, but mine are fresh. Isn't that an upgrade?"

"I mean... put that way, I guess you could argue that, but still..."

[...That goes far beyond primitive. That female is downright terrifying,] Wahsh muttered, vigorously shaking his small duck head in disbelief.

Yet that macabre, destructive, and bizarrely beautiful ingenuity—and the brazen cheerfulness with which Joo Yerin had rationalized it—was something Mu-saeng could never forget.

"Ahem. Anyway, Floor 58 is the mark. It's definitely her."

He had finally found her trail.

Of course, massive hurdles remained. Was she still on Floor 58? Could he deliberately trigger a spatial tangle to cross into her instance?

And above all...

'Yerin originally went missing right after challenging the 39th floor.'

Mu-saeng had assumed she had grown impatient just shy of Floor 40 and met with an accident. To think her traces would actually materialize all the way up on Floor 58.

'Tangled from Floor 39 all the way to 58? An inter-floor anomaly... and then Vietnam One Way got dragged into the very same mess?'

After a moment's calculation, Mu-saeng shook his head. Even Wahsh, an Administrator, had no definitive answers. Spinning wild theories from his desk would accomplish nothing.

"Wahsh."

[Kkwak?]

There was only one way forward: go see it with his own eyes. Whether it was Floor 39 or Floor 58, he would climb there himself. Now that Korea One Way Group had been thoroughly purged from his path, nothing held him back.

"Starting tomorrow, we're picking up the pace. We're climbing the Tower."

All focus shifted back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the ascent.

[I've been waiting to hear those words, Kim Mu-saeng!] Wahsh's eyes flashed with fierce ambition behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

Inside the Chairman's office at Geumseong Guild Headquarters, Geum Byeong-cheol was roaring with laughter.

Standing stiffly at his side, however, Raid Headquarters Director Yoon Pyo could not muster even the faintest smile.

"...Is that your final decision, Vice Head?" Yoon Pyo asked.

"Yes! With my current abilities, I can evaluate him no further. Therefore, as I stated in my initial report, I maintain that his estimated value exceeds fifteen billion won, and I propose we extend an official recruitment offer to Sherpa Kim Mu-saeng immediately."

Geum Soo-ah delivered her conclusion with a bright, unflinching expression—a complete departure from the solemn, heavy air she had maintained in the executive boardroom earlier.

And she had every right to be confident.

"I don't believe... this is a matter to report with such a carefree smile. Especially in front of the Chairman—"

"I did the absolute best I could," Geum Soo-ah cut in smoothly. "I witnessed it with my own eyes, and I made my own judgment."

Her conscience was clear beneath the heavens. Tying herself into knots trying to rationalize the inexplicable was not her job. She accepted what she saw with her mind and her heart, and she reported it plainly. That was all.

While Geum Byeong-cheol continued to chuckle at her refreshingly blunt assessment, Yoon Pyo could not let the matter rest.

"I do not doubt your judgment, Vice Head. But are you certain about the specifics of your report?"

As the Head of Geumseong's Raid Headquarters and chief aide to the Chairman, Yoon Pyo had to look at cold reality. The serpents of Dungeon 22 wielding lethal, abnormal toxins; escape scrolls failing entirely; and an endless tide of reptiles multiplying no matter how many were slaughtered...

"I am certain," Geum Soo-ah replied firmly. "After assisting Sherpa Kim Mu-saeng with a personal matter... I re-entered Dungeon 22 that very night. No anomalies occurred. I am convinced that everything I saw and experienced was orchestrated entirely by Sherpa Kim Mu-saeng."

Of course she had verified it. After helping him haul the unconscious One Way Group personnel down to the basement of that abandoned construction site without asking a single question, she had quietly doubled back into Dungeon 22. The swamp had returned to its completely mundane, docile state. The terrifying phenomena had vanished without a trace.

In short: Kim Mu-saeng had conjured the entire nightmare out of thin air.

"Even I struggle to pierce your stealth, Vice Head," Yoon Pyo pressed, pointing out the most glaring contradiction. The visual refraction and complete erasure granted by Luminous(SR) were extraordinarily sophisticated. Even as Raid Director, Yoon Pyo rarely felt confident in detecting her when she truly hid herself. "And yet you claim he pinpointed your exact location effortlessly?"

"Yes. That is correct, Director."

She admitted it without batting an eye. Was she flatly asserting that an ordinary dungeon sherpa possessed sensory perception equal to, or greater than, Yoon Pyo himself?

"...You cannot simply say 'that is correct' and leave it at that..." Yoon Pyo muttered, pressing his fingers against his throbbing temples.

Suddenly, Geum Byeong-cheol spoke.

"Pyo-ya."

"Yes, Chairman." Yoon Pyo bowed his head instantly.

At the very least, Geum Soo-ah's evaluation had struck a chord. The founder of Geumseong Guild had laughed so hard he had taken off his dark sunglasses.

An official climbing record of Floor 65. Every single floor cleared entirely solo. The undisputed apex Awakener of South Korea.

He wiped away the moisture leaking from his eyes—eyes devoid of dark pupils, blazing with pure, stark-white tiger light. Sliding the sunglasses back onto his face, he offered a low, rumbling command.

"Bring that kid in. I want to see him."

The gaze of South Korea's apex predator had officially landed on Kim Mu-saeng.

"Understood. I will bring him in as swiftly as possible." Yoon Pyo immediately pulled out his smartphone.

—"Don't you worry about the company, you brat. A guy about to risk his neck in the Tower has no business stressing over someone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠else!"

"Who's someone else, Hyung? I'm the ace of Omkim Co. If I stop guiding, our contracts will drop off a cliff, and we both know it. Of course I'm worried."

Hearing Park Hyun-gu's deep concern filtering through the speaker, Mu-saeng grinned and cracked a joke.

—"Aigoo, listen to this arrogant bastard talking like I'm a complete invalid! Hey, I'll have you know—"

"Pretty close to it, honestly."

—"Wh-what do you mean pretty close?! Anyway, even if we burned bridges with One Way, plenty of other clients were seriously impressed by your performance. I've already had people calling to ask if we're taking on rookie sherpas... The company will survive just fine, so you just do what you need to do."

Mu-saeng had not told Park Hyun-gu everything. He hadn't breathed a word about the possibility that Joo Yerin was alive on Floor 58. The moment that soft-hearted older brother heard that, he would drop his business in an instant and demand to charge into the Tower by his side.

"Thanks, Hyung."

The day might come when they climbed the Tower together, but that day was not today. Once the path was clearer and he truly needed Hyun-gu's logistical genius, he would call upon him.

—"If you're really that grateful, your severance package later can—"

"Boss, if you don't wire every last won to my account, I'm reporting you to the labor board."

—"Agh, wait, I've got another call ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠coming in! Whatever, I'm throwing you a legendary retirement bash when you get back, so make sure you call the second you come down! I'm hanging up!"

The line clicked dead. Mu-saeng chuckled warmly as he lowered the phone.

Floating right beside his ear, Wahsh glared with undisguised irritation. [Are you finished at last?]

"Aigoo, we barely talked for five minutes. Do you have to nag every single second?"

[You were the one shouting about picking up the pace, Kim Mu-saeng!]

"And that's why I packed all of this, isn't it?"

Standing in the grand public lobby of the Tower, Mu-saeng hoisted a massively overloaded duffel bag onto his shoulders and let out a long breath.

"A retirement party, huh... Wonder how many days it'll be before I can celebrate."

Once he crossed the threshold today, he had zero intention of coming back down for a long time. His resolve was set on blasting through at least ten floors in a single, uninterrupted push.

"Kim Mu-saeng. Requesting entry to the Tower."

Bzzzzz—

The smartphone in Mu-saeng's pocket began to buzz insistently. Ignoring the incoming call completely, Mu-saeng spoke to the void.

"Challenge."

A blinding column of light engulfed his vision.

Dense, milky fog clung to the slopes of a towering mountain. The challenge of Floor 4 was simple: scale the peak and stand upon the summit within a strict ten-hour limit.

Floor 1 had been designed to teach spatial movement and concealment by forcing climbers to evade goblins.

Floor 2 had introduced basic combat through small skirmishes against minor kobolds.

Floor 3 had provided the first taste of a true boss encounter against a ferocious werewolf.

Now, those rudimentary tutorials were over. Floor 4 synthesized every fundamental lesson into an endurance trial against terrain, monsters, and a ticking clock. This was the true starting line of the Tower.

Wahsh cleared his throat and puffed up his chest. [Kim Mu-saeng, listen closely. For this floor, you must—]

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that."

[—What?]

"Just cut to the chase and tell me the hidden condition," ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mu-saeng said casually. "My personal record for reaching the summit here is two hours and twenty-seven minutes."

To a veteran who had guided clients through Dungeon 4 seventy-two times, standard tactical advice was entirely redundant.

Wahsh stared at him in utter disbelief. [...What? Two hours and twenty-seven minutes? Truly?]

Mu-saeng nodded nonchalantly. "Dungeon 4 was pretty much the easiest terrain for me, so I ran a solo test once without any clients weighing me down. Well... guiding clients usually took around four hours or so, but—wait a minute. Don't tell me?"

He suddenly caught the stunned expression frozen on the duck's face.

[...Yes. That was indeed the hidden condition. Reaching the summit in under three hours.]

Of course it was.

Mu-saeng chuckled as he watched the rubber duck gap at him through black horn-rimmed glasses, looking as though he were staring at an incomprehensible alien monster.

"Puhahaha! Well then, let's go for a brisk morning hike!"

As casually as if he were strolling up the trail behind his childhood neighborhood, Mu-saeng stepped into the mist.