From Lottery Jackpot to Dungeon Exile

Han Ji-woo. A native of Chuncheon, South Korea. A strapping twenty-four-year-old man. And a fresh-faced office worker. That was exactly the life Han Ji-woo had wanted—up to that point.

A world at peace, a smooth life without the crashing waves of drama. An ordinary job, an ordinary existence, free from incidents or accidents. That was the path Han Ji-woo had chosen.

But now, one more line had been added to his description: Subject to disappearance at any moment, anywhere.

Actually, that applied to everyone in the world.

Five years ago, exactly 100 people from around the globe vanished at the exact same instant. Since then, groups of 100 had been disappearing at the same time, steadily and relentlessly.

The first mass disappearance was followed by another exactly one week later. But the third came months after that. There was no fixed schedule for these events.

The one unchanging rule: exactly 100 people gone each time.

Who was behind it? Why? How? For what reason? Five years on, no answers.

In fact, even the fact that this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been happening consistently for five years had only recently been uncovered by the global consortium of scientists known as Möbius, who had doggedly tracked the anomalies.

Everything else defied scientific explanation.

But Möbius had detected one thing: a unique wave that swept the planet each time. Now, whenever it hit, smartphone users received emergency alerts.

The world lived in fear, wondering who might vanish next.

Han Ji-woo, though? No such anxiety for him. His packed daily grind left no room for it.

But...

"What the hell? F-First... prize?!"

Another wave crashed in without warning.

Han Ji-woo downed a shot of soju with stir-fried pork and kimchi pancake as chasers, his face beaming with pure bliss. Across from him, his childhood friend Park Jung-su stared in admiration.

"Man, you really live rent-free in your head. Must be nice."

Han Ji-woo furrowed his brow. "What now?"

"If I go radio silent one day, assume I've been snatched. Sigh."

"Bullshit."

"Hey, hey. This is a global phenomenon. Could be me next time. Or you. No law saying we won't be in that unlucky hundred."

"Ahh~ This kimchi pancake is fucking delicious."

"Dude, I'm being serious here."

"Yo, this moment's too precious right now, so back off. You think I got it easy? This chill vibe's just for when I'm with you. You have no idea the hell I catch at work."

"Here we go with the whining again."

"Now I get why they call these shit-tier companies 'soul-suckers.' Endless company dinners, overtime out the ass, show up on time and your boss—who's already there—chews you out."

"Quit your bitching. That's everyone else's story. You said you're the golden boy at work."

"Yeah. 'Cause I never skip drinks, pull overtime on my own, show up thirty minutes early. You know how soul-crushing it is sucking up while nailing your own work? Now I can't sleep without booze. Stress-induced insomnia."

"...Damn, you've gone full corporate drone. Never imagined high school Ji-woo ending up like this."

The monster who had conquered every high school in Chuncheon with his fists. Not by choice, either.

It started when he beat down some punks bullying a weak kid. Word spread about his one-punch knockouts, and the local delinquents came calling.

He dispatched them effortlessly and accidentally became top dog. Then challengers from other schools showed up.

He dodged at first, but when they targeted his friends, he snapped. Took them all down. Ended up as Chuncheon's undisputed king against his will.

Now? Just a first-year drone at a mid-tier company, ground down day by day.

"Jung-su."

"Yeah?"

"You got it good?"

"As if. It's all the same grind. If only I'd win the lottery."

Lottery. Everyone—young, old, men, women—couldn't shut up about it lately.

Sales had exploded at the start of the month, but no jackpot winner by month's end. Rollover jackpot: over 87 billion won.

Sweep it solo? Life-changing. Split it? Still bursting with wealth.

Then last Saturday: three winners. 29 billion each. After taxes, at least 19 billion.

News like that sparks a buying frenzy. Everyone dreams of their turnaround story.

"Oh, speaking of—how'd you do?"

Han Ji-woo tilted his head at Park Jung-su's question. "Do on what?"

"The lottery. You were wasted last week and bought one."

"Me?"

"Film must've cut out. Tucked it in your wallet like a sacred relic."

"Huh?"

Han Ji-woo pulled out his wallet, rummaging. Sure enough, a lottery ticket.

"I really bought one."

"Good hunt. Toss it now."

"Without checking?"

"As if."

Ignoring his friend's snark, Han Ji-woo pulled out his phone, loaded the winning numbers on the table, clutched the ticket in both hands, and started praying.

"Atheist ass praying now?"

"That sewer breath of yours has a misfortune debuff. Ignore."

"Bullshit. Just scan the QR."

"Where's the romance in that?"

"Freak."

Han Ji-woo opened his eyes slowly, comparing numbers.

"Knew it was a bust. More booze."

But despite Park Jung-su's jinx, Han Ji-woo's face twisted oddly.

"What the hell? F-First... prize?!"

He shot up with a shriek.

"Pfft, jackpot my ass."

"...Not joking."

Grinning, Han Ji-woo went to pocket the ticket—but his hands shook. Park Jung-su snatched his wrist, checked the screen.

One ticket, instant verify. Park Jung-su froze.

"Holy... shit."

It was real. This madman had hit the jackpot. 29 billion. 19 billion after taxes!

Too surreal. Was this a dream? Han Ji-woo wondered the same.

We're set. It's over.

Office as playground, stress-free bliss ahead!

Jackpot!

He clenched his fists, envisioning paradise.

Shhht—

Then he vanished.

"What the—?"

Park Jung-su rubbed his eyes at the magic trick.

"Hidden cam prank? Epic."

He checked under the table. Nothing.

Wait... no way...?

Gulp.

Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeep!

Alert tones blared everywhere. Drinkers checked phones in shock.

27th Mass Disappearance Event. Contact family.

Park Jung-su looked up from his screen.

"...Holy shit."

Confirmed. His best friend, jackpot day of all days, swept up in the 27th wave.

Table: wallet and phone alone.

A vast cavern of solid stone walls. 99 people materialized.

"What? Where are we?"

"Huh...?"

"Honey! Kids! Tom! Jerry!"

"No signal?"

"Dream... gotta be a dream..."

Panic spread among the multilingual, multiracial crowd—languages from everywhere, but all understood each other perfectly.

Then—a childish voice.

"We fervently welcome the 27th Heroes to the Dungeon!"

Eyes turned. A cat. Cheese-patterned, bipedal, cowboy hat, tiny boots, black cape. Adorably cute—but eerie as hell.

"I am Ferrofero, who invited you 27th Heroes here."

The cat doffed its hat, bowing. Its alien tongue auto-translated to native languages.

A middle-aged man, pale, clasped hands pleading. "P-Please send me back! Home... please!"

Snap!

He vanished.

Ferrofero grinned. "Sent you back. Anyone else wanna leave?"

Hesitation. A Western woman shot up her hand. "Me too!"

Snap! Gone.

Two gone, ripples of doubt. "Really back to Earth?" "Cat lying?" "Cats lie!"

Ferrofero raised its voice. "Three minutes passed—seven left. Those who wish to leave, step up!"

Inner turmoil exploded.

"I gotta go."

"Snap out of it—no one's ever returned from these events. Trust a cat?"

"Maybe this time! Send me!"

Snap!

A few bolted without thinking, vanished. Most held back, suspecting a trap.

"Five minutes."

"Three."

Countdown tension.

"One minute!"

Sudden rush. "Me too!" Ferrofero sent them all out. Twelve total.

Many more regretted staying.

Ferrofero grinned at conflicted faces. "As promised, those who wanted out are gone. You chose to stay despite the chance."

Tears flowed. "I should've gone home..."

Ferrofero wagged a finger. "Oh, but I never said Earth."

"...?"

"Could be another planet, dimension, lost in space. I said 'out of the Dungeon'—not Earth."

Faces blanched. Poison candy. Sweet trap.

Terror stabbed like needles. Some pissed themselves, vomited, nearly fainted.

Ferrofero watched gleefully. "Now, Survival Game time~ Rules are simple."

Claw out, pointed down. "Reach the bottom, raid final boss Ibelius. But you'd die to low-grade monsters. So, a gift!"

Clap!

Different "skills" for each. Ferrofero explained to the confused. "That's your gift—the first skill from entering the Dungeon! Power beyond common sense!"

Few grasped it fully. No questions asked.

Ferrofero beamed, nodding. "Blame the previous 26th Heroes! If they'd beaten the bottom boss, the Dungeon would've collapsed—no summons for you!"

Dawned on them: mass disappearances fed this hell. Life-or-death fights.

Theirs now too.

"Last group reached floor 7, all died. Dungeon reset—monsters revived, traps reset. Same if you wipe!"

Rules laid out, Ferrofero raised a paw smiling. "Survival Game... start!"

Vanished.

Grrrrr... Ominous growls from all sides.

"...?"

Han Ji-woo stared curiously at the floating text.

Reading that far, Han Ji-woo realized he was lying down—bolted up, scanned around.

Everything blurry. His vision sucked without glasses—blind as a bat.

Oddly, system text was crystal clear.

Groping, he found his glasses. Put them on, looked up.

A stunning starry sky.

"What...?"

The enclosure: towering stone walls, massive cavern. Others went to Dungeon Floor 1—he alone in hidden spot.

Didn't know or care. He clutched his lottery ticket, trembling.

"This... not Earth? My happy life? My jackpot?!"

Too absurd for words. Ticket in hand, but bar to Dungeon?

Pondered if dream. No—all real.

Why here? Only guess: mass disappearance.

"My lottery... my peaceful life..."

Rose path yanked away in a blink. No returnees meant likely permanent.

Gaze to lingering message.

Vague nonsense. Only clear: Dungeon's Hidden Space.

Feats, perks? No clue. Garbled name midway.

Looked up again. Dungeon underground—sky? Novel misconception.

Dungeons: magic defies logic. Sky fine. Others would see jungles, ruins, seas ahead.

His spot: magical illusion.

"What now? Die here?"

Despair, head droop—saw clutched ticket.

"No!"

Snapped alert. Not dead yet. Life ain't over till over.

Find exit first.

Deep breaths, calmed. Scanned: ~600 sq ft, weird waist-high weeds, rocks.

Prodded walls for escape. Found inscription—alien script, auto-translated.

"What?" Amazed he read it, scanned more.

True: overgrown weeds, rocks.

Synthesized: "Place changes by my actions, food/water possible, make meaningful to alter Dungeon fate? EXP from actions? Huh."

Then—

"Skills, inventory, status? Full-on game."

Absurd, but adapting. Nonstop weirdness since waking.

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Why Growth Acceleration? Obvious.

Deep memory root.

Orphaned young, abusive orphanage. Beatings for trifles. Wished to grow fast, escape sooner.

That wish birthed the skill.

"But can't use on self? Otherwise OP. Coulda given better."

No self-use caveat ruined it.

"Sigh."

Jackpot life flashed—sigh escaped.

Wasted energy. Face reality.

"No point dwelling."

Tucked ticket neatly into Inventory. "Stays till I escape."

Only possessions: clothes, ticket. Wallet/phone gone.

"Focus. Survive first. Then future."

Wise. Survival priority. No escape, jackpot meaningless.

"Test this power."

Gauge Growth Acceleration utility. Use for survival.

Reached for weed. "Like this? Growth Acceleration."

Embarrassing alone, but curious.

Well now.

Dungeon Floor 1 manager Ferrofero peered into his crystal orb from cozy room.

Showed one odd summon among 99: Siamese twin, two heads one body.

One body, one person? But Dungeon counted two?

Thus, 101 summoned.

But headcount: 100 if twins as two.

Where's the extra?

Grooming habit kicked in—deep thought tic.

Hmm. No clue. Game proceeding fine, ignore.

Duty: summon, smooth progress. No penalty meant ok.

Rest his concern not.

"Yaaawn~"

Flopped bread-loaf style, snoring away. Sleep till half died.

Ferrofero's glitch granted unintended feat, landing Han Ji-woo solo in Hidden Space.

Oblivious, he tested skill on weed.

No growth—instead:

"Fully grown?"

Disappointed smack of lips, scoured corners. Nada.

"Total wasteland drop. Others?"

100 vanish per event—he assumed swept up.

Should be with 99 others?

All scattered solo survival?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

But early messages nagged.

Uninvited: not in the 100. Hence hidden dump.

"Others grouped?"

Sudden loneliness, injustice. Jackpot glory snatched, isolated.

Crowds innovate survival. Solo? Starve.

"Sigh."

Plopped down anywhere, looked up—sky-gazing spree today.

Pre-kidnap: promising employee. Diligent, capable, drama-free. Liked by all.

But corp life: work-home loop. Exhausted sleep, rushed mornings. Chronic fatigue erased refreshment.

Fast-track ambitions faded to malaise. Living or dead? Desired life or dragged? Thinking or reacting?

Crushed routine—how long since leisurely sky?

This ain't bad.

Forced positivity. Need every edge. Frog-in-well sky, but stars shone pretty.

"Beautiful."

Savoring eased lottery ache—bullshit.

"My jackpot!"

Clung like dumped lover.

"Peace was right there."

Tearing hair in woe—

"...Huh?"

Another lottery struck.