Floor 8 — The Waiting Room

◈ Floor 8, Waiting Room ◈

Ha Heijeong's 1st regression. Floor 7. The Eerie Forest.

"…Try saying that again."

"Sir! We don't even know what's going to happen anyway! What if the Tiger-Men come after us even after we hand over the sacrifice?! How are we supposed to run with the priest in tow?!"

Seo Hosu gritted his teeth, shielding Seo Harin behind his back. It felt like a volcano detonating somewhere deep in his gut. He could feel her hands, clamped around his, trembling like a leaf.

"Ah, damn it all! How are we supposed to fight that thing?! Hand her over already! She's out of stamina anyway! How long is the king going to keep… Guack!"

"Daddy!"

Not one of the attacks Seo Hosu had faced climbing the Tower thus far had been as fast, as flawless, as this one. Watching a party member crumple to the ground with a long vent of wind torn clean through his neck, Seo Hosu thought exactly that.

"Offer this bastard up as your sacrifice."

…The king remained unsatisfied.

And then two, three, four more.

The follow-up attacks were every bit as perfect, Seo Hosu thought.

Bastards. Seo Hosu spat on the ground. You'll fight me, but not the king? Sons of bitches. If they'd fought from the start, they could've at least sunk a blade into the thing once.

Cursing inwardly, Seo Hosu turned to face the king.

"…Human. …Human."

The king was still unsatisfied. Steadying his heart, Seo Hosu turned back to Seo Harin. As if she could see the future, she was blinking back tears.

"Harin, you know that shield spell Daddy bought you?"

"Daddy, no. Okay? No…"

"Activate it, and just—just close your eyes for a little while. You know how much Daddy loves you, right?"

Tears brimming over, Seo Harin nodded again and again, sobbing whimpers spilling out between her clenched teeth.

Don't cry. Seo Hosu wiped her cheeks with a bloodstained hand, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠maybe it was because of that blood—maybe it wasn't—that the tears sliding down his daughter's face came away red.

"Climb on, Harin…"

With those final words, Seo Hosu threw himself at the king.

A short while later, Seo Harin, eyes still squeezed shut, came back to herself at the flat, mechanical voice of a notification.

The community was buzzing with climbers who had only just conquered Floor 6. The reason I'd posted a guide for Floor 7 at all was Ha Heijeong's advice.

Not that I hadn't planned to write something guide-like anyway, but following her advice, I'd written it as kindly as I could manage. Image management—a good idea. It had been the same on Floor 6, and the higher I climbed, the more I'd inevitably bump up against the other climbers.

Of course, I was Rank 1 on the leaderboard. For the most part I could do as I pleased, but I couldn't bulldoze my way through every single situation with brute force. Having people follow my words of their own accord was simply the better play.

The reactions exploded in a positive direction. Private messages flooded in too, though I answered none of them. I can't reply one by one to thousands of people.

So there I lay, quiet on my bed, when the thought of the shareholder ratio drifted up. The moment we'd entered the waiting room, a notification had announced that we could now receive 'sponsorship' from the Sinjwa—divine beings. A whole chain of very long notifications had followed, the explanations running on and on. I'd summarized those separately as well, for posting to the community later.

The moment I'd heard the explanation, I understood why Ha Heijeong had said I would be fine. Even if I spent shareholder ratio to limit twenty percent of my stats, I was already more than strong enough. In fact, with twenty percent shaved off, I'd probably still be Rank 1 on raw force alone. And since it would recover naturally as I climbed, it wouldn't be much of a problem at all.

The other climbers, though, were clearly going to be stranded at a crossroads. To limit your stats while you were already scraping your way up each floor, tooth and nail—that was practically suicide. Which means they'll have no choice but to let their ratio pile up bit by bit. The climbers' fixed ratios would climb higher and higher.

There was always the chance a Sinjwa would roll the Dice of Fate on their behalf, of course. Ha Heijeong had said that if you were lucky enough to meet a good Sinjwa, it might spend your ratio for you—which was another way of saying that the vast majority of Sinjwa never would.

Besides, the notification had left out the most important part: what actually happens when your ratio reaches 100%. I could extrapolate a few possible outcomes, but I couldn't know any of them for certain. Not that it seemed to concern me much… If my ratio rose, I'd simply limit my stats, then burn the ratio away. I was strong enough regardless. I'd carve my way up the floors without trouble, and my stats would come back in time.

"Kkiik! Suyeok! Suyeok!"

"Mm… mm!?"

Dobby's voice shattered my reverie. I'd answered on autopilot—then jolted upright and whipped around to face him. "Dobby! Did you just call me by my name?!"

"Kkiik! Yes! Suyeok!"

"No, Dobby. I'm— I'm honestly touched right now. You called me by my name…"

Human! Human! That had always been Dobby's form of address—for me, for the mister, for Ha Heijeong, it never changed. It wasn't quite 'Suhyeok'—'Suyeok'—but still. He'd called me by my name. A warm pride swelled in my chest, as if I'd raised him myself. No—hadn't I, in fact, raised him? Fed him, put him to bed, saved his life. Either way, Dobby had grown at least a little. The feeling was a novel one.

"Oh, come to think of it, you've gotten bigger too, haven't you? Looks like what the mister said back in the forest was right after all."

"Kkiik! Goblin! Grew!"

Dobby puffed out his chest and boomed it proudly. Apparently being told he'd grown agreed with him immensely. "Haha. That's right, you have grown a bit." At such a childish display, I burst out laughing. They say children love nothing more than being told they've gotten bigger, and Dobby seemed to be no exception.

Hm, though he still referred to himself as 'Goblin.' That would change with time too, presumably.

"Your clothes look a little small on you now. Want me to get you new ones?"

"Kkiik! Still! Fine!"

"Anyway—why'd you call me?"

"Food! Bored! Goblin! Hungry!"

Hm. Fair enough—he had been living on nothing but bread and water. I'd assumed the food provided with each new floor would change, but it hadn't. Instead, the shop sold every kind of food imaginable. Any dish whatsoever, one achievement point apiece. Hardly a steep price.

"What do you feel like eating?"

"Kkiik! Meat! Meat!"

"Alright, let's have some meat for the first time in a while."

Ha Heijeong had told me to hoard my points, but one point was nothing. I could always slaughter one extra monster on the next floor. I bought two steaks for two achievement points.

"Kkiik! Meat!"

"Dobby. You say thank you before you eat. That's no way to carry on."

"Kkiik! Suyeok! Thank you!"

"There you go."

The steak was genuinely delicious. It tasted like the food I used to eat back on Earth, come to think of it. The shop carried plenty of Earth food, now that I looked—cola, hamburgers, pork spare ribs. Are they airlifted in from Earth? Probably, right? But how?

Hm. Do the people of Earth even know we're going through all of this? One thought latched onto another, and just as my mind threatened to wander down some entirely different path from where it had started, what had happened on Floor 7 surfaced instead. The mister must have been hurting terribly.

"Hey, Dobby."

"Kkiik! Suyeok!"

"From now on, you mustn't say 'bald.' Understood?"

"Kkiik! Why not!"

Hm. How on earth was I supposed to explain this? Goblins are born without a single hair on their heads—he had no way of knowing what it felt like.

"Hmm…"

Something Dobby had right now, but that could be taken away. What would that be? Then, all at once, something flashed through my mind.

"Dobby, how would you feel if Fenrike vanished, like before?"

"Kkiik! Fenrike? He is a god!"

"No, no. I mean—what if Fenrike suddenly disappeared, the way he did when he was trapped inside the necklace?"

Dobby frowned faintly, chewing it over. Then, moments later, his eyes brimmed with tears. "Kkiik! Goblin! Sad!"

"Right, it's sad, isn't it? That's what bald is like. Having hair, and then not having it anymore…"

"Kkiik! Human! Is hair a god?"

"No, it's not that—it's just a similar feeling, is all."

"Goblin! Understood! Will not do it!"

Dobby bobbed his head as though he truly understood. Hm. Something had gotten thoroughly twisted in the translation… but at least he wouldn't call the mister bald anymore. Wasn't that a win in the end?

The meal didn't drag on long. Once the steaks were gone, I was left with nothing to do again.

Floor 8, then—a floor every climber would enter together. Wondering whether there was anything I ought to watch out for, I sent Ha Heijeong a message.

Manage fine on your own? The phrasing struck me as strange. Wasn't Floor 8 the floor every climber entered together?

Everyone participates—and yet it's a solo event. Some kind of individual survival scenario? A battle royale, maybe?

No fighting. Everyone participates. And yet a solo event. What in the world could it be? Out of idle curiosity I turned the possibilities over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in my head, but nothing in particular came to mind. Ha Heijeong had told me not to worry too much about it anyway. And apparently I'd be getting Floor 1's recovery for free.

Floors 8 and 10 are, you know—which I took to mean they were similar. Apparently there'd be no combat on Floor 10 either.

So that was how it worked. There really had been nothing to worry about. Might as well burn off my current ratio while I was at it.

"Yes."

The instant I gave my answer, a wash of lethargy settled over my body. Everything felt a touch heavier, a touch slower than usual—much like the way your muscles simply refuse to respond after a hard workout. Just as I moved to loosen up and get a feel for the limited body, Ha Heijeong sent another message.

I'd given it a few swings back in the forest, before coming to the waiting room. My first impression hadn't been bad—no, it had actually been good. Better even than when I'd first switched from sword to mace. Still, I had a feeling I wouldn't know exactly what it could do until I'd used it in live combat.