STAGE ONE Complete.
Yumin finished all his purchases and returned to his private room. The living room was already filled with all the items he'd just bought. The delivery speed was truly astonishing.
Yumin separated out the items meant for his stepsister Gayeong, then pondered for a moment on how to proceed. In any case, to hand them over, he'd have to reveal his privileges to her. In the end, he decided to disclose only a portion of them—the privileges related to transferring items and points.
Gathering up the goods, Yumin passed through the square and entered the corridor leading to Gayeong's private room. In the old days, a warning tone and an access denied message would have blared out, but with his privileges, there was no restriction whatsoever. I need to be careful not to slip up in front of others later, he thought as he headed to her door. He paused there to collect his thoughts.
"Gayeong... Gayeong?"
"O...ppa? Is that Yumin oppa?"
Gayeong had been in her bedroom; it took Yumin calling out a bit louder for her response to come. Hearing his voice—impossible as it seemed—filled her with surprise, fluster, and joy.
"Yeah, it's me."
"How'd you get here? Isn't it curfew right now? And more than that, you couldn't enter someone else's corridor before, right?"
"You're right, Gayeong. Listen carefully from now on."
"Okay."
"You absolutely can't tell anyone about this. It's our secret, just between us two. Got it?"
"Yeah..."
Gayeong swallowed hard without realizing it, struck by the unusually serious tone in Yumin's voice.
"I... well, unlike the other Paradise participants, I have a few privileges. That's why I'm free from curfew and have points saved up."
"How is that possible?"
"I... don't really know myself..."
This was Yumin's honest truth. Even he couldn't figure out why he'd been granted these privileges. Angel had said it was a reward for the most mission participations, but anyone with a brain—even someone less sharp than Yumin—could tell that wasn't the whole story. Right from the early days of Paradise, when no one had privileges, Yumin had participated in missions far more than anyone else. And now, he undeniably felt that the other participants were centering around him, choosing him as the linchpin.
Yumin believed Paradise had been created by an organization of unimaginable scale, beyond what ordinary people could fathom. And the longer he spent here, the more convinced he became. For starters, the facility itself: the temperature was slightly warm, nothing like the midwinter chill when they'd been abducted, and it sure wasn't from some artificial heater. It wasn't just the temperature, either—if it were heaters, the air would be dry, but here the humidity was actually high. Factoring in the hot, humid climate, this place couldn't be Korea.
Even judging by the revealed areas alone, Paradise was massive. If the newly opened second floor was just part of it, the true scale was mind-boggling. On top of that, the advanced technology: the mission room setups, the bracelets packed with tech—anyone could infer it. Then there was Paradise's insane information network, uncovering personal secrets even the police couldn't touch. It didn't stop there; it had the power to kidnap chaebol heirs effortlessly. And with participants dying from penalties or sanctions, it clearly had ways to cover that up too.
Why would an organization with such overwhelming power create a place like Paradise and force these sadistic prank-like missions? And why entrust a leading role to an utterly ordinary twenty-something Korean guy like him, the kind you could bump into anywhere? No matter how much he thought about it, Yumin couldn't make sense of it.
The current Yumin was no longer the dazed pushover who'd first arrived in Paradise. He had questions about the place, and they were only growing.
"I really have no idea why they gave me these privileges. So let's set aside what we don't know. Can you keep the secrets I told you?"
"Got it. I promise."
Yumin asked Gayeong once more to keep it secret. She had her doubts, but since it was her beloved, trustworthy oppa speaking, she set them aside and accepted it fully.
Yumin passed the items through the delivery slot at the bottom of Gayeong's steel door. She gasped at the shampoo, rinse, body wash, and other essentials, plus a pajama set and snacks like potato chips, chocolate, and cola. Naturally, she had zero points right now. And for some reason, she hadn't participated in a single mission so far—and if that continued, her points would stay at zero forever.
But Gayeong pushed aside her lack of points; after arriving in Paradise, these vending machine snacks were the first she'd seen, and they drew her in irresistibly. It was like staring at expensive clothes in a shop window that she could never afford—heart-fluttering longing.
Having studied the vending machine items and their point costs closely, she knew exactly how much Yumin's gifts had set him back.
"How'd you buy all this? Didn't you use up all your points? What about you, oppa? Did you get what you need?"
Gayeong was thrilled that these were exactly the things she'd craved, but her worry overshadowed the joy. Oppa always skipped his own wants to care for her, asking what she needed. She feared this was the same.
"I got mine too."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
Gayeong was a little skeptical, but it didn't sound like a lie. She felt relieved on one hand, but images of the other oppas and unnis popped into her head.
"Did you... get stuff for the other oppas and unnis too?"
"No. This used up about half, just for you and me. Not enough points to cover everyone. And who knows what'll happen next—I need to save some just in case."
"I see..."
If oppa said so, it must be true. Gayeong decided to trust him. Still, it felt awful receiving all this care alone. But she couldn't ask for more when he'd already held back on his own wants for her sake. He was probably stretching himself thin as it was.
Just from her voice, Yumin could tell exactly how Gayeong felt. That slightly drooping, drawn-out tone came out when she felt regretful or sorry.
With no choice, Yumin decided to reveal one more privilege. It would dilute her guilt now and ease her future anxieties.
"Gayeong."
"Yes, oppa."
"I have one more privilege... It lets me designate one Paradise participant to completely exempt them from missions."
"Mission Protection?"
"Yeah. I chose you with it."
"Me? Ah... so that's why..."
Anyone not an idiot would find it odd that, for over four months, she alone among all participants hadn't done a single mission. Gayeong had been wondering about it for a while, and now the secret was out.
"So, Gayeong, you won't have to do missions—not before, not now, not ever. Which means you can't earn points either."
"I see..."
"I took away your chance to earn points by exempting you completely, so doesn't it make sense for me to take care of you? The others will earn at least a little, so no need to feel bad about them. And if someone needs extra help depending on the situation, I'll handle it. Got it?"
"Yeah, got it. Oppa... thank you."
Her oppa, always sacrificing for others—especially his devotion to her was incredible. Gayeong felt heartbroken that all she could offer was thanks.
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Yumin returned to his private room holding half a chocolate bar. Gayeong had insisted he hadn't bought one for himself and forcibly cut hers in half to give to him. Unable to break her stubbornness, he'd accepted it. A wry smile tugged at his lips, but his chest warmed.
Sitting on the bed, Yumin savored the chocolate bar slowly. He usually skipped snacks to save money, indulging only rarely—and this long-awaited treat sent a delightful vitality surging through him like it was seeping straight into his bloodstream.
It felt too wasteful to sleep now, so Yumin headed to the square. After jogging laps and working up a pleasant sweat, he returned, showered, and went to bed. A satisfying languor—nothing like his masturbation sessions—washed over him as he drifted off. For the first time in ages, Yumin slept deeply.
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The next day, Yumin woke, enjoyed a simple but balanced breakfast of salad, fruit, bread, and black tea—tasty and nutritious—then headed to the square. His goal today wasn't the vending machines. Plenty more items tempted him, but he didn't have points to burn.
Instead, he climbed the stairs to the second floor, eager to check facilities he couldn't access before due to lacking points.
The second floor held several small lounges, a library, separate bathhouses for men and women, and a clinic. Yumin approached the nearest lounge and tapped his bracelet to the terminal. A message appeared.
Lounge Use (1 Hour): 1 Point
Would you like to spend 1 point to enter the lounge?
YES / NO
Yumin tapped YES, and his bracelet points dropped from 150 to 149. The lounge door slid open sideways.
He stepped inside, and the door closed behind him. The lounge had one TV and three PCs—likely limited to three users at a time.
Yumin turned on the TV. A familiar Korean channel appeared. Flipping through, he saw most major Korean channels were available.
Next, he powered up a PC. No keyboard—just a peculiar mouse with only back, forward, and click functions. The screen resembled a standard PC desktop, control panel and a few features locked. Internet connected fine; he could search, but no posting or writing functions worked.
This was entirely expected. No Paradise operator in their right mind would let participants post online. Still, Yumin was thrilled. In a place cut off from the world, the internet was an oasis in the desert.
He hurriedly checked sites, searching news articles based on his abduction date. Surprisingly, no group disappearance stories. Thinking about it, unless they were celebrities, twenty-ish people vanishing wouldn't make headlines. In Korea, that many missing persons might not even be unusual. And even if reported to police, it wouldn't hit the news.
Even Jang Woohyeok, with his power and wealth, wasn't famous himself—his family might search desperately, but his disappearance alone wouldn't be big news. Or maybe it had been covered but wiped by Paradise's influence. Or perhaps diverted with some other scoop, like Korean politicians often did.