Scrap Metal

Thud.

"Ghk?!"

"You gonna walk around with your eyes shut?!"

He was the one who'd walked into me, and now he was glaring like I'd done it on purpose. All I could do was drop my gaze. The tattoo writhing across that bald scalp, the brutal slabs of muscle, the massive greatsword strapped across his back — he was an adventurer, no question about it.

Bastard.

Cursing him in my head was as far as I dared go. Say it out loud and that thug throws a fit, and I'm the one who bleeds. They wouldn't kill me inside District 1, but adventurers got a pass on ordinary violence. The one who took the hit was the only one who lost.

"Haa..."

I let the breath out and hurried on.

Right. Just get to work.

Show up even a little late and the old man at the general store would pitch a fit and try to dock what little pay I had.

Step. Step.

I was walking with no strength in my legs, and today the gravel under my soles felt worse than ever. Shoes that actually fit — sneakers, proper leather — were hard to come by in this world. These oversized things, slapped together from cheap hide, had almost no cushion, so every scrap of junk in the road came straight through. When I'd first dropped into this place, even walking had been misery. Calluses had built up since then, but the discomfort hadn't gone anywhere, and cheap shoes that split if you looked at them wrong were still expensive for a consumable, just because they were leather.

If I ever make it, the first thing I buy is a pair of artifact shoes. No — underwear first? Damn it.

What I missed most were the mass-produced goods of the twenty-first century. I'd used them without a second thought, and only after falling into this hell did I understand how convenient they'd been. I'd been turning that same thought over for a year when my workplace finally came into view.

Creeeak.

I pushed open the door beneath that worn, utterly ordinary sign, and the shopkeeper's bellow hit me before I'd taken a step inside.

"Cutting it real close again today, you bastard!"

"I'm not late."

"Would it kill you to show up a little early?!"

"Yes. It would."

"What'd you say, you punk?!"

"My delicate soles would die. Want to see?"

"Ha... You still living at that martial hall?"

"Of course. I am absolutely going to succeed as an adventurer."

I had to clear the Labyrinth and get out of this miserable world.

"...If you can't talk sense, then don't. Tch. Get to work!"

The bald old man shoved his monocle back into place with an irritable flick, swept aside the last wisps of white hair at his temples, and tossed a pair of red crystals at me.

Thump.

Two gemlike red crystals, a faint light wavering inside them. Ability Stones — the essence monsters of the Labyrinth coughed up.

"What are these? Ability Stones, first thing in the morning?"

"Came over from the Magic Tower. Junk, I'm sure, but appraise them anyway."

Old Man Johnson could appraise artifacts, herbs, antiques, the rest of it. Adventurer-only goods like Ability Stones were beyond him. Only adventurers could do that, and among them I was a little special.

Let's see.

The first one.

Oh?

The stats had come out respectable. A red Ability Stone from the first ten floors of the Labyrinth capped out at five stats, and the highest any one of them could go was ten.

Not bad, then.

But the name was all wrong.

I've heard of Split Consciousness. Schizophrenia?

It felt like something that belonged in a mental ward. A normal adventurer would have to absorb it to learn anything more, but anyone in their right mind wouldn't. The more negative an Ability Stone's name, the worse the side effects. That was common knowledge. Fortunately, I didn't have to absorb it.

Check Additional Information.

My trait as a Summoner. Unranked — it didn't even have a grade — but in moments like this, it pulled its weight.

Hum.

"Ha. Shit."

Trash among trash. Rare even by that standard.

"What?"

"Absorb this and you grow multiple personalities."

"What?"

Mental debuffs were the side effects adventurers dreaded most. Excitement or Rage, you could find a way to offset. Something nobody had ever heard of had no answer at all.

"...Damn it! No wonder he dumped them on me cheap. What about the other one?"

"One moment."

The second Ability Stone.

Hmm. Respectable stats again. The name was wrong again.

Don't tell me this one's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same.

Hum. I ran Check Additional Information.

"Oh, for— shit!"

"...A bust?"

"Yes."

I told Johnson about the side effects, and his face twisted worse than before.

"Dumped shit on me. Both of them — shit! That bastard Heiman. Just you wait."

Grind.

Johnson ground his teeth and cursed the Magic Tower contact who'd passed the goods along. I had a different question.

What the hell does this Klinsmann even do?

How do you burn precious Ability Stones and produce nothing but garbage?

"Throw them out."

"Damn it. You know how much I paid for these? Put them on display anyway, just in case. I've got to make my money back!"

"This is why people keep calling our shop a minefield..."

"Madmen still buy them sometimes!"

Not madmen, I thought. Just pitiful ones.

"...Yes, yes. Understood, boss."

What power did a mere employee have? I set the trash — no, the mines — out on display and went back to staring into space. Customers were scarce enough that I started nodding off. After work I'd be at the martial hall training again anyway, so catching sleep like this was good for the body. Comfort myself that way, though, and the crash always came.

How did I end up like this...

A year ago rose up on its own. I'd fallen asleep in my semi-basement two-room like any other night, and the next thing I knew I was standing in uncomfortable clothes I'd never worn in my life, on a vast and ornate plaza where light seeped softly up from the floor, packed in with a crowd of strangers.

Strikingly foreign men and women in peculiar dress, offering their greetings. I'd thought it was a bad dream. The dream didn't break. And then—

"Check Additional Information? An unranked trait?"

"And he only has one Ability Slot?"

"The worst of the worst. Deadweight like this actually exists? Has this ever happened?"

"Nothing like it in the kingdom's Summoner records for a hundred years..."

"Throw him out. Not worth investing in at all."

They appraised me however they pleased, though I'd done nothing, and drove me out of that splendid palace.

I was already sick enough over that bizarre trait.

The year after that was pure suffering. Even the sense that we understood each other had only been translation magic. Surviving the Labyrinth city with nothing but the clothes on my back was a miracle in itself. I begged for my life while I learned the language, then the writing. I used what little my Summoner trait was good for to get hired at this junk shop, and even then it took half a year of that paycheck before I could start training at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a martial hall to become an adventurer. A struggle I could almost call a human victory. And the resentment ran as deep as the pride.

Those palace bastards.

Grind.

They had given me exactly one thing: the hope that passing through the hundred-floor Labyrinth would let me cross into another world. Not even a certainty that the world would be Earth. I'd been flat broke, but I'd still been living hard, and they'd as good as dragged me down into hell. No — looking at the Labyrinth intel I'd scraped together on the job, it really was no different from hell.

Even so, I'll do it. I have to.

Crack.

If I were the type to give up just because the circumstances were the worst, I wouldn't have worked that hard back in Korea either. Dragging this miserable life forward, even a little at a time, was the only struggle I could throw at this shitty world — these shitty worlds.

Hoo.

Status window.

I murmured it inwardly, and information about me appeared as if a screen had opened in front of my eyes.

Information so meager it stayed meager no matter how many dozens or hundreds of times I looked.

Over half a year of effort, and all I got was Stamina +1 and Agility +1.

Bleak. Look at it another way, though, and it was proof I'd actually grown.

Right. The martial hall isn't a waste of money.

Unranked trait or not, I still had one, the way a Summoner should. Stepping out as an adventurer was still my best shot at making it. In this barbaric world, a guy with no family and no backing had no other way to improve his life to begin with.

One Ability Slot is the worst aptitude...

I did my best to ignore what the palace bastards had said. Some lucky people were born with as many as five. Even one meant a person could equip a monster's power — an Ability — and that alone was aptitude enough for an adventurer.

Save a bit more, get one usable Ability, then enter the Labyrinth. It isn't far off. Keep learning martial arts and raise even one more stat. Or just go in as soon as I can and raise stats with runes...

I was making that resolution, dreaming of a hopeful future, when—

Creeeak.

The shop door opened.

Hup.

"Welcome. How can I help you?"

I shot to my feet on reflex, wiped my mouth, and strapped on a twenty-first-century service mindset. And regretted it immediately.

"Huh? You're actually still here?"

Kim Hyun-shik snickered the moment he walked in. No greeting. He picked an item off the display, tossed it a few times, decided he didn't like it, and set it down wherever he felt like. He didn't set it down.

Thud.

He threw it on the floor.

"Hey. Deadweight."

Lee Jeong-ho came in behind him and looked me up and down.

"What was your name again?"

"Dunno. Scrap Metal or something, wasn't it?"

Kim Hyun-shik answered for me.

"Oh, right. Scrap Metal."

Lee Jeong-ho snorted.

"Fuck. They really nailed the name."

Two faces that screamed street thug. A year ago, when we were summoned, they'd lumped us together as roughly the same age and run us through the tests side by side.

Kim Hyun-shik. Lee Jeong-ho.

The moment it came out that I was deadweight, they'd laughed in my face. A month ago they'd come back bragging about their first Labyrinth run, dumped a pile of junk on the shop, and trashed the place because we wouldn't pay what they wanted. And then—

"So this is Scrap Metal?"

Click.

A woman came in behind the two of them. Cha Hye-ryeon. She stared straight at me — not the way you look at a person, but the way you look at trash left on the roadside.

"He looks more normal than I expected."

A smile caught at the corner of her mouth.

"They said he was deadweight, so I thought it'd... show more."

Kim Hyun-shik cackled.

"Hey, Hye-ryeon. Talk like that and you'll hurt his feelings."

"Why?"

Cha Hye-ryeon looked genuinely baffled.

"It's not like I decided he was deadweight."

"Puhaha!"

The two of them burst out laughing.

...Same as ever.

Four Ability Slots. The A-rank trait Mana Correction. I'd heard the Royal Palace treated her specially and was giving her a magical education, and somewhere along the way she'd started running with these two thugs. Lee Jeong-ho glanced at her, then came toward me and crooked a finger.

"Scrap Metal."

"..."

"We've got a customer."

He smiled.

"Time to work, yeah?"

The curse climbed all the way to my throat. I swallowed it.

"How can I help you?"

You don't get close to shit.

"Whoa."

Kim Hyun-shik laughed as if he were impressed.

"This guy really doesn't remember us, huh?"

"He remembers."

Cha Hye-ryeon said it like it didn't matter.

"He just knows he's not on a level where he gets to act familiar."

"Heh."

She swallowed a laugh. Only then did Lee Jeong-ho look satisfied. He set a large pouch on the counter.

Thud.

"You buy Labyrinth junk, right?"

He upended the pouch.

Rattle-clatter!

Stone shards, broken bones, worn ornaments, and miscellaneous junk spilled across the counter. A few pieces rolled all the way to the floor. Lee Jeong-ho jerked his chin.

"Pick it up."

"..."

"What?"

Our eyes met, and he snorted.

"Customer dropped something."

At the same time he drew the greatsword off his back and planted it on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the floor.

Thud!

"And."

He grinned.

"Price it right. Same as last time."

Kim Hyun-shik leaned an elbow on the counter and smirked.

"Don't start with 'this won't do' and 'that's trash.' Don't be a pain."

"..."

"We all get tired, right?"

He said it with a smile. His eyes weren't smiling at all. These bastards, at it again.

Even a glance says it's all trash...

Still, half a year on the job made it obvious. Lower-floor junk. Literally miscellaneous, and almost worthless.

"One moment."

I gathered the pieces in a hurry. Hardly any of them looked like more than junk, but I still ran Check Additional Information on each one. Odd junk turned up sometimes. One of them, though, was something I'd never seen.

"This is Labyrinth junk too?"

A shabby basket that looked like bamboo. The kind of thing someone had slapped together by hand.

"Yeah!"

He wouldn't lie about something like this.

Goblin Basket, huh.

They really picked up anything. Even the basic description the system handed out said there was nothing special about it. It hadn't even received a Common grade. Unranked junk. Even so—

Check Additional Information.

I used the trait out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of habit.

Hum.

A description I'd never heard of popped out.