Paying Back Fifty Years
Ghost Rider, huh.
Is that talking about those flaming skeletons?
Park Ji-hoo stared at the sudden quest window with a thoroughly baffled look.
Ghost Rider
"P-please help me."
Nia clung to his leg again, gripping tight.
They said it was a prank.
One of the ghosts had definitely said that. From the context, it had to mean Nia's behavior was the joke. But Ji-hoo simply could not see it that way.
The child looking up at him with tears welling in her eyes—how could that possibly be a prank? And even if it truly were one, he still would have found it hard to refuse. She was a little girl around Si-yeon's age. Just looking at her made him think of his sister.
Huuu—
Ji-hoo drew a deep breath inside.
Helping is helping, but…
On top of that, the quest itself stirred an instinctive revulsion.
Defeat the Ghost Riders.
That meant fighting, didn't it?
Park Ji-hoo hated fighting. More precisely, he hated violence. From childhood he had endured endless domestic abuse—and Si-yeon had suffered it too. From the pieces of trash who called themselves their parents. Those years of dark experience had left scars that never faded from his mind.
Until now he had forced himself to fight just to survive. He had crushed monsters with his bare fists and beaten down players who picked fights. Yet even then the guilt and self-loathing only piled higher, layer upon layer.
Can I keep doing this? Wouldn't it be better to just give up on everything and die? Then I wouldn't have to fight anymore.
The impulse rose more often than he liked to admit. If Si-yeon hadn't been waiting for him outside, he might already have done it.
And now they wanted him to defeat complete strangers he had never even seen before. It wasn't a matter of survival, nor a required quest for clearing the Tower. It was literally just a sudden quest—something he could ignore without any real penalty. Did he really have to use violence for something like that?
Conflict ruled his head.
I should refuse.
He didn't want to fight for no reason. The situation reeked of a prank by the ghost NPCs, which made him even more reluctant. Yet the words wouldn't leave his mouth. It was because of Nia's eyes—eyes stained with sorrow and pain, the same look Si-yeon sometimes wore.
Haa—
He had no idea what to do. He should never have left the inn. He should have just lain in bed, recovered his spent stamina, and walked out as if nothing had happened. Instead he had come outside and landed himself in a situation where he could neither move forward nor back.
"Oppa… p-please help me."
A wounded little hand clutched the hem of his pants. He squeezed his eyes shut. He simply couldn't keep looking any longer.
"I… I…"
He tried to steady his shaking heart and refuse. He did not want to commit meaningless, reasonless violence. But just then—
"What? It's that brat this time?"
A voice dripping with mockery bored into his ears.
"Of all the people you could've found, you dragged over a kid like him? You should've brought that girl who made Jillian piss himself. She looked like she'd put up a better fight."
They were talking about Lee Sia. Ji-hoo slowly opened his eyes and turned toward the sound.
"What's a brat like you gonna do, you looking to die? Think just 'cause you're a player you can do whatever? Want a knife in your gut?"
They weren't flaming skeletons. They weren't even riding ghost horses. They were simply ghosts shaped like people—a little rough-looking, that was all. Ordinary street thugs you could find anywhere. Roughly ten of them.
Ji-hoo regarded them with a heavy, sunken gaze. The casual provocation they spat as easily as breathing didn't bother him. If anything, the revulsion only grew worse. He almost wished they really had been flaming skeletons. At least then he could have treated them like monsters.
"Look at him, he's scared shitless. Hey, Nia! You picked another dud! Huh? I told you to bring someone decent, didn't I? That's the only way it's any fun!"
Hearing their words, Ji-hoo's eyes sank even heavier.
Fun.
So that was it. The "prank" he had heard about earlier wasn't something Nia was pulling. It was them. They were using a weak child like Nia to harass players who reached the 10th floor, and they were enjoying it.
Once he realized that, his heart lightened a little—though he still hadn't fully accepted everything. As the thugs approached, Nia hid behind Ji-hoo's back. The trembling he felt through his clothes told him just how terrified the child was.
"Huuu—"
Once he felt that, there was no other choice. Ji-hoo gently stroked Nia's head with one hand and spoke toward the group.
"Just leave. If you do, I'll let it go."
It was his own version of consideration—showing he didn't want to fight. But it must have looked like weakness. A cruel smile spread across their faces.
"Look at that guy's legs shaking. Hey, check his pants. Bet he already pissed himself."
"Brat trying to act tough. Putting on a show 'cause there's a little girl watching?"
"You say leave and we just leave? Who the hell is letting who go?"
Their mockery struck his ears like violence itself. It was the same as the words of the man he had once called father—words that shattered a child's heart, bruised it, and finally broke it.
That is violence too.
Physical violence wasn't the only thing that hurt. Sometimes the words spat from a mouth left even deeper scars. How much damage had all that violence done to the girl hiding behind him? From what the ghosts said, this wasn't a day or two of abuse. It might have been going on for longer than he had even been alive—years, decades, centuries.
Thinking of Nia, who for all that endless time had been unable to do anything while their mouths and fists rained down on her, made his chest grow tight and heavy.
Si-yeon…
At the same time the image of his little sister lying in a hospital bed, moaning in pain, rose before him. Ji-hoo decided to stop hesitating.
I fight.
He didn't know how strong they were. Yujin had said that most NPCs, except for the truly special ones, were weaker than players, so it was probably true. The number didn't matter. Even if they were as strong as the mutant zombies he had fought on the 9th floor, with his stamina and mana somewhat recovered he could handle them.
What mattered wasn't their skill—it was his own heart. He had decided to fight, and that was enough. So they would never again do this dogshit to Nia.
"Come at me."
He curled his hands into fists. Unfortunately his gauntlets were back at the inn, so he couldn't wear them. That was fine. If he didn't have them, he would just beat the bastards without them.
"Yo, he says come at him. Somebody go give him a little lesson."
One of the snickering thugs stepped forward. A skinny stick of a man holding a palm-sized knife, tongue flicking out. Whether ghosts could still get tattoos or he had gotten them before he died, his body was covered in ink as if it were a canvas.
"It's been ages since I stabbed a player. Time to taste some steel again."
He strode straight toward Ji-hoo without even a defensive stance, without the slightest caution. Ji-hoo threw his fist without a shred of hesitation.
Crunch—!
The straight punch buried itself in the tattooed thug's jaw. The sound of bone breaking rang out as the man's eyes rolled back. He collapsed in a limp heap, unconscious.
"Good."
Ji-hoo murmured quietly at the sight.
"So I can hit ghosts after all."
Apparently their coordinate system was still fixed in place. His flashing eyes caught the others' gazes.
"Don't come one by one and waste my time. All of you at once."
The Ghost Riders were weak. He had only fought one so far, so he couldn't be completely sure, but the rest didn't seem much different—especially from the way they were panicking.
"Get him!"
"A couple knife wounds won't kill him, so don't hesitate—stab! These bastards don't die that easy anyway!"
They all drew short daggers at once and charged exactly as he had suggested.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—!
Maybe because they were ghosts, their footwork was quick. In an instant they closed in, short blades aiming for every part of his body.
Slow.
Even so, he didn't panic. Their movements were lighter than expected, but still slower than the sulfur deer he had seen on the 1st floor. With his current senses, he could have dodged every single one with his eyes closed. Just a few steps completely slipped him free of their assault—Nia held safely in his arms.
Having shifted sideways in a flash, Ji-hoo threw his fists again.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
One at a time. Noses and jaws caved in as they crumpled. Not one of them blocked or dodged. Anyone his fist touched toppled like a rotten straw doll. Only three remained.
As if he no longer wanted to waste time, Ji-hoo advanced.
KWAANG— Bang—!
Two more impacts, and two more went down. Only one left—the one who had stayed silent the whole time, casually reading the room and slipping toward the back. Ji-hoo casually threw a punch.
And—
Thud—!
For the first time, it was blocked.
"You're stronger than I thought?"
The remaining ghost's face filled with curiosity as the corner of his mouth curled up.
"Hey, Nia. You actually picked a good one this time. This is gonna be pretty fun."
His punch had been blocked. That was a fist that even most boss monsters couldn't take head-on. He wasn't wearing the gauntlets, and he hadn't used a skill, but still—
He blocked it that easily?
The one left in front of him was completely different from the others now lying on the ground.
"Step back a bit. Let's take this nice and slow. We've got all the time in the world, right?"
Whooooosh—!
The sound of air splitting as the ghost's foot whipped upward.
"Khuk!"
Ji-hoo twisted his head and barely avoided it. But he didn't come away clean. The wind pressure from the kick that tore through the air left a cut across his cheek. A thin line of blood trickled down.
Ji-hoo pulled his fist back and quickly opened the distance.
"Hey. What's your name?"
The ghost asked, spinning a grin that held not the slightest seriousness.
"Not answering, huh."
When Ji-hoo simply glared without a word, the ghost scratched his own temple with the dagger.
"I never expected someone like you to walk into our usual little game. A fun one like you… hasn't shown up in about fifty years. Right, Nia?"
Fifty years. At those words Ji-hoo bit down hard on his lip. At least fifty years. All that time, Nia had been—
"I've decided."
Ji-hoo spat the words out as if they tasted foul.
"Hm? Decided what?"
The ghost tilted his head.
"Fifty years. Everything this child has suffered in that time—I'm going to pay every bit of it back."
This wouldn't end with one or two punches. In Ji-hoo's eyes those ghosts were no longer NPCs. They were monsters. Or his father. Or something even worse than trash. Evil that needed to be wiped out right now.
"You'd better brace yourself. My fists hurt a little."