Four Hundred Pairs

"He bought underwear?"

"Yes, sir. Four hundred pairs of it."

"Four hundred!? You've got to be joking."

"I'm only repeating what I was told to report, sir."

The palace knight receiving the report couldn't help a dry, empty laugh.

The bastard clearly has some way of making money on the lower floors. Common sense, though—that he definitely doesn't have. Then again, summoners are all like that.

Who knew how peaceful a world the man had grown up in. Run them through the Labyrinth a few times and more than a few came back with their heads turned just enough to start doing bizarre things.

They're all too soft.

Set beside that, an obsession with underwear was almost endearing. Pathetic, of course. That part didn't change.

Put that money into gear and it might actually save his life the next time he goes in.

The hollow laugh was one thing. The report still had to be filed. Even so, there was no helping the way the target's absurd behavior made the man feel far too easy to handle, and the knight's steps lightened as he turned to go.

Stick someone he's friendly with on him, learn the secret, and if the situation calls for it, we can sweet-talk him again afterward. Underwear is something we can supply as much of as he wants.

And if that secret turned out not to be an ability of his at all, but something like a chance discovery, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they wouldn't even have to hand over the underwear.

That's the likelier case. Might just be luck.

Sometimes a man's behavior makes people belittle what he has actually accomplished. Without realizing it, the knight was pricing what Cheol-woo was worth lower and lower.

Why the hell is this bastard...

The moment I saw Kim Hyun-shik waiting in front of the martial hall, my mood curdled.

"Scrap. Metal? What's with the face? Not happy to see me?"

That face, smiling as he deliberately chopped my name in two. I was busy picturing a one-two across that mug, an uppercut after it, and a knee driven home—

—when the bastard smiled and went on.

"Well, compared to your general-store days... you've gotten a lot more human. Hmm. Gear's not bad either, for a Novice."

His eyes raked me from head to toe, and before I could get a word out, Jerik stepped in. He must have caught my expression. His own had gone hard.

"...Meaning you're an uninvited guest. A palace summoner?"

"Yes, Master Jerik. I did say so at the start, you know."

"You claimed to be Charr's friend, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. As I thought. You're not."

"No, no. In my own way, I'm quite fond of our Scrap. Metal here."

He kept a veneer of courtesy for Jerik while slicing my name apart like that. Anyone who wasn't Korean would have had a hard time noticing he was picking a fight. I made a point of ignoring it.

"Cut the bullshit. What are you doing here?"

"Ah, nothing much. Word came through that our Go Cheol-woo cleared the fourth floor. Honestly, that's strange enough on its own..."

"And?"

"You know the fifth floor is special, right? So the palace is dispatching higher-ranked adventurers to protect the summoners who challenge it. And our Go Cheol-woo has been specially assigned to me."

"Help?"

What kind of bullshit was this? Jerik shook his head as if he'd never heard of such a thing.

"The palace? They only change their support after they've seen how someone gets through the Novice stretch, don't they?"

"Th-that used to be the case, but the policy changed recently. The more adventurers who post good results on the fifth and tenth floors, the stronger the palace's forces become. That's how the higher-ups judged it."

"Now? Out of nowhere?"

Jerik didn't seem to understand the situation either. Neither did I.

"You throw me out when I'm useless, and now you want to protect me? What kind of insane talk is that?"

Kim Hyun-shik snorted a laugh.

"Right? I'm not exactly thrilled either. But what can you do. Orders from above. And there just aren't many people with any connection to you..."

He sidled in, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tapped my shoulder, and met my eyes.

"...so I got picked. I'm annoyed too, so if you've got the gist, just say okay and come to the fifth floor with me. Okay? Big brother'll wrap it up quick for you."

Those nasty eyes were as unpleasant as ever.

"And if I say no?"

"...What? Ha. Hey, Scrap Metal. Does this look like a suggestion? It's an order. An order. Came down from up top. Is your head trash-tier too? You can't understand?"

He flared those eyes and started to flick my forehead, then caught Jerik's look, sighed, and dropped his hand.

"You little shit. I'm sick of this too. So let's just get it over with. Even if a trash-tier bastard is hiding some ability, what's he even got that's worth the hassle..."

Hm?

At the irritated line he spat out, my eyes met Jerik's. Looks like I'd drawn notice faster than I'd thought. Which was exactly why I had to refuse this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so-called offer.

"Which is exactly why this won't work."

"What, you punk?"

"Like you said, the fifth and tenth floors matter most. And you want me to take floors that important with you?"

"Ha...?"

"No special tattoo, so you're not even Special Class. Barely a few pieces of artifact gear, either. At best you're skulking around the tenth floor, early-to-mid level ten? And I'm supposed to go with you?"

His face twisted hard.

"This bastard..."

His hand shot up, then dropped again under Jerik's stare. A snarl followed at once.

"...And what do you think you're going to become? A defective with one slot and a trash-tier trait? We already looked into everything. Floors three and four both took you over ten days, and you barely scraped through. With skill like that, you say thank you and take what's offered. What's your problem?"

Hm?

"Special Class? Not just anyone gets that. Only a chosen few, like Cha Hye-ryeon or that guy. Fuck. A complete waste of a bastard lucks into a few pieces of gear and starts dreaming?"

That guy?

Not a trace remained of the old act, the one where he'd pretended to stay cool.

"There's no way you suddenly grew an ability you never had. Yeah. Trash-tier. You're trash-tier, aren't you? If you lucked into some treasure, just hand it over to the palace and make your money. Don't waste people's time cooking up a mess like this."

With a loser's face, Kim Hyun-shik muttered and poured his irritation out. I flinched at the truth buried in that muttering, but the man saying it clearly didn't believe a word of it himself. The tell was far too obvious. Nothing but the grumbling of someone soaked through with self-loathing. So I laughed.

Lucky me. That this guy got the job.

Not someone hard to handle—a two-bit thug I could read straight through. An amateur whose measure I could already take.

Don't tell me. They thought this guy and I were close?

I could roughly guess the story behind it, but I kept my face in check.

"Then don't bother with that annoying mission. Mind your own business. I'll handle my own road myself."

"Ha. Trash-tier bastard, are you actually that thick? I said it's an order. An order. Do you not know what the word means?"

Irritation boiling over, he stopped watching Jerik and jabbed my chest again and again. Thud. Thud. The steel armor dented faintly under his fingers. Ridiculous as he looked, it drove home that he was an adventurer who had earned a Class.

Even so.

"That's an order that came down to you. I'm not palace personnel."

"Ah. You defective little shit..."

"An adventurer who doesn't belong to the palace has no duty to obey the king's orders, except in wartime. Keep the kingdom's laws and you're free. Didn't you know?"

They couldn't have superhuman adventurers walking off to other countries, other labyrinth cities.

That's why they tried to send someone I was supposedly close to. A serious misjudgment, though.

"...Whoa."

Struck dumb by what I'd said with a smirk, Kim Hyun-shik repeated that whoa over and over. When thugs lose on logic, they almost always react the same way.

"I was already pissed, and this trash-tier bastard has to go and get under my skin."

The look on his face said he might throw a punch or draw a weapon any second, and I was bracing—when he glanced once at Jerik, then ground his teeth at me.

"...Fine. Whatever. We'll see. The law? Heh. You son of a bitch..."

He seemed to think I was mouthing off because I had Jerik at my back.

"You..."

I was about to say something when Jerik caught my shoulder and shook his head.

"The one who gets in trouble for failing a palace order is him. Don't provoke him any further."

"Ha. Yeah. Fine."

I knew why he was worried, so I just nodded and tried to let it go.

That evening.

"Sir Charr. Are you in? I've come from the Merchant Guild."

This time, someone came from somewhere else.

"So. The reason for your visit...?"

"I'd like an exclusive contract. I'll pay ten percent above market for the Labyrinth sundries you bring in. No questions asked. That's the offer."

The merchant who claimed to be from the Merchant Guild—young, or rather, better called a boy—spoke with his eyes shining. Ruda. For some reason, I felt certain.

"...You didn't actually come from the Merchant Guild, did you?"

I'd only been probing, but Ruda grinned.

"Correct! I only heard the rumors going around inside the guild, and came on my own!"

What is with this kid?

"Bold of you."

"Yes. Because I'm convinced this will benefit both me and you, Sir Charr."

Setting that confidence aside.

"Which rumor, exactly, are you talking about?"

"A rookie who only recently started entering the Labyrinth comes back with something fairly valuable every single trip. From the lower floors, at that. That rumor."

Ha. I'd expected it. But already?

"Well, it isn't a very large rumor yet. And if I handle your goods exclusively, Sir Charr, it's also a rumor that won't spread any further."

Whether he'd read my mind or not, the words—and that grin—were honestly tempting.

"You'll keep the secret and take only a merchant's cut?"

"Yes. Of course."

The short answer, with no extra words wrapped around it, somehow earned a measure of trust. Jerik still looked short of convinced.

"And how are we supposed to trust you?"

"Look into me and you'll see. I'm in a bit of a hurry myself. It'll be a win for both of us."

"Hm?"

Ruda. Ruda Aslan explained his situation. Once a merchant house that had even been granted a noble title; now the heir of a fallen family. He, too, had to claw his way back up as a merchant, whatever it took.

"It's modest, but I cleared the Novice stretch as an adventurer and obtained the Merchant class. Here..."

"Oh?"

The system window Ruda showed of his own accord made him a little easier to trust.

"For now, then, shall we keep it to a verbal contract?"

"Oh! I'd be grateful."

I held out my hand, and Ruda caught it with a bright face. If he was someone under the System's influence—

Check Additional Information.

A low thrum. My trait ought to work on him too. And the result—

—let me trust him a little further.

"Then I'll see you after I've been to the fifth floor and back. Where should I find you?"

"Ah, I'm..."

I confirmed the shop he kept in District 8, then sent him on his way.

"His eyes are all right. Can you trust him?"

"Well, in the situation we're in, I'll have to try."

"Right. I'm sorry. I should have found you a merchant sooner. Me."

Huh?

"I'm already more than grateful for everything you've done. What are you talking about?"

Even a decent man can take it too far.

"I'm glad you see it that way. Anyway, be careful. If the palace has put someone on you, they won't back off easily."

"...Yes. I know."

And so, the very next day, I headed straight for the fifth floor of the Labyrinth.

Nice. This is good.

I drank in the cool freshness and the comfort pouring off the artifact boots and underwear until even the worry sitting in my chest seemed to loosen.

Let's go.

The moment I set my hand on the Labyrinth Stele and committed—

A grip.

A hand shot out of empty air and clamped onto my shoulder.

What!?

A flash.

We were pulled into the Labyrinth at the same time.