The Shadow Market
Tower of Trials 1st Floor — 071 Residential Zone
As the sun set, the once-quiet 071 District began to stir with noticeable energy.
The Tower of Trials managed its zones with meticulous detail, dividing everything except residential and training areas into precise sectors. Abandoned places that had once served as residential zones, or areas left unmanaged and forgotten, were designated by combining their floor number and a sequential code. The 071 District was one such place.
Until ten years ago, this had been a functioning residential zone. The sharp decline in the first floor’s population had left it deserted. Even so, the infrastructure remained intact, making it an ideal location for a secret black market.
“Move quietly! If the guards catch us, it’s the executioner’s block!”
Members of criminal organizations crept out one by one, suppressing their presence as they slipped toward their designated trading spots. The merchants dispatched by the syndicates moved with practiced efficiency, having run black markets many times before. They finished their preparations swiftly, ready to receive goods. Corrupt deliverymen, both major customers and suppliers, also appeared and headed for their meeting points.
Once the atmosphere settled, people began pulling out their wares and haggling in low voices.
“This month’s ration from the organization. What do you think?”
“It’s in terrible shape. Did you even bother maintaining it?”
“A little dust never hurt anyone. The idiots on the first floor breathe nothing but dust anyway.”
“Then you eat it. How’s the taste?”
The syndicate members inspected the quality of the food that would serve as currency while the deliverymen prepared to sell equipment scavenged from outside expeditions or extra rations and gear they had received.
“Selling a rare-grade weapon? You’ve got some nerve.”
“It’s something I picked up quietly during an outing. Who’s going to know?”
“You think the higher-ups won’t notice a single rare dagger slipping in?”
“Don’t jinx it. This is the most important item tonight.”
Countless figures gathered beneath the dim glow of scattered lights. Wearing his mask, Yeon Cheong observed everything from the highest rooftop in the 071 District, listening intently.
“I’m not particularly concerned about them selling equipment.”
Black markets were never supposed to exist. The equipment that meant life and death for deliverymen—weapons used to conquer the Tower—had to be managed and maintained by the Tower itself. Any weapons, armor, or accessories with special effects brought back from the outside had to be surrendered without exception. Deliverymen could use such items if they wished, but anything rare-grade or higher required official permission from the Tower. High-grade equipment brought rewards, yet a single rare dagger was too minor to qualify for meaningful benefits. That was why deliverymen inevitably turned to the black market.
They probably already know the black market is happening tonight.
In truth, the Tower’s upper echelons tacitly approved its existence. Unable to monitor the vast first floor personally, they had turned several major criminal organizations into informants who served as their eyes and ears. In exchange, they tolerated events like this black market. Still, these groups remained criminals, and the janitors stood ready to eliminate them at a moment’s notice. Because of this, the janitors knew exactly which organizations possessed which items and whether any posed a threat to the Tower.
Since Yeon Cheong had once been a janitor himself, he already knew the criminal groups and their goods in advance.
The rightmost edge holds the Pendant of Preservation. The trading organization is the Baekho-pa.
Yeon Cheong slowly turned his head from right to left, scanning the market.
The central item is a rare-grade dagger. The trading organization is the Silver Hook.
At the end of his gaze lay the item he sought: the Amulet of Concentration.
Far left edge, final stall. The item is the Amulet of Concentration. The organization is…
The Black Wolf Syndicate—an assassination group the residents of the first floor had mentioned three days earlier. Though relatively calm for a criminal organization, they had grown by accepting assassination contracts. Small in scale, they were dangerous enough that even the Tower’s upper ranks kept a close watch on them. They had never provoked the higher-ups and had continued to expand steadily. Even when Yeon Cheong rose to the pinnacle as a janitor, the group had survived.
The Black Wolf Syndicate has some serious guts. They were named prime suspects in the recent incident, yet here they are, calmly running a stall in the black market.
Yeon Cheong began moving toward the trading site. He had gathered all the information he needed from above. Now it was time to complete his objective: snatch the amulet and slip away from the market.
Uncle Ben will have passed the word. The guards should arrive soon.
The guards would raid the black market at precisely the right moment. This week was a cleaning week, so any report of a black market meant the upper floors would order its immediate destruction, regardless of previous tacit approval. The official command was the complete eradication of criminal organizations during cleaning week, and black markets were a prime target. The syndicates had made a fatal mistake by trusting the higher-ups enough to hold such an event. They had forgotten that criminal groups were disposable tools the Tower could discard whenever it wished.
The moment of chaos is perfect for me.
Yeongdeung performed best when visibility was limited, the atmosphere was chaotic, or people’s attention was divided by larger concerns. By erasing one’s own presence and pinpointing specific targets, one could easily carry out assassinations or thefts amid confusion.
Yeon Cheong approached the trading site and fixed his gaze on the Amulet of Concentration in a deliveryman’s hand. The small bracelet-shaped charm, engraved with a faint pattern, glowed softly.
The Amulet of Concentration… I always wanted one.
He had never been able to obtain it during his time as a janitor. He had needed it, but someone else already possessed it, and he had never wanted to kill for it. A janitor’s killings were never done on personal whim; they only moved when the upper floors issued a cleaning order.
My Yeongdeung is still immature. I need it even more right now.
Yeongdeung consumed mental energy and required constant calculation. The stress was severe enough to make one’s hair fall out, making sustained use nearly impossible. Even a single day of continuous activation left one as exhausted as three sleepless nights with eyes wide open. Shallow inner energy demanded even more stamina while delivering inferior performance. In that regard, the Amulet of Concentration offered tremendous efficiency. Accelerating thought processes allowed multiple simulations before taking action. Though the time gained was brief, for a former janitor like Yeon Cheong it was an invaluable resource. It also increased the brain’s capacity to withstand overload, which would greatly aid his use of Yeongdeung.
I should take position here.
Yeon Cheong settled on the building directly across from the trading site, slightly apart from the main activity. Dust drifted through the air, but his view remained clear enough.
When the guards arrive…
He would activate Yeongdeung and seize the amulet in the ensuing chaos. The plan was simple, yet it demanded absolute focus at the critical moment. The trading site held both deliverymen and Black Wolf Syndicate members. A direct confrontation had to be avoided at all costs.
This isn’t like before. Back then I ambushed men caught off guard. Here I’ll be facing people on full alert.
When he had subdued the Red Guardians, the knife had held up and the dust storm had provided perfect cover for the surprise attack. Most importantly, striking from above had allowed his small frame to generate enough force. It only proved how fragile his current body still was—he needed to use the terrain to compensate.
They won’t lower their guard.
The Black Wolf members and deliverymen at the site had already raised their vigilance to the maximum. Their dealings were far from legitimate, so tension was only natural. No crime could remain hidden forever. Outside the Tower it might be different, but this was the Tower’s interior—the last bastion of civilization and humanity’s final hope. Committing a crime here invited the full wrath of that civilization, so they maintained their guard without a single lapse.
If it comes down to it, I could kill them all…
The one fortunate factor was the extreme darkness of night. If he extinguished the candles lighting the trading area, the space would become his domain.
There is one problem, though.
Yeon Cheong drew the knife from his robes. The blade he had taken from Koo Min-chan was badly worn. The young master from the upper floors had never maintained it properly, and Yeon Cheong’s recent desperate use against the Red Guardians had only worsened the damage. The edge was now so dull that it might break after one or two more strikes.
Only deliverymen are allowed to carry bladed weapons.
Even everyday knives and kitchen blades were forbidden. Since food was distributed in rations, there was no need for such tools. Only a few first-floor technicians held official permits. Even Chunja Halmae was only allowed to keep a pair of scissors. Sharpening the knife was therefore impossible. The sound of grinding would carry to nearby residences, and being caught with a weapon would mean certain execution.
Besides, I don’t have a whetstone anyway.
Yeon Cheong turned the knife over in his hands, checking its condition. It would be best if he never had to use it. If he did, he would have to finish the fight cleanly—the blade might not survive otherwise.
“Time to begin.”
A small sound reached him from the building across the way. The deliveryman had taken out the Amulet of Concentration and was speaking to the Black Wolf Syndicate members.
Let’s take a look.
Yeon Cheong slipped the knife back into his robes and focused. If he missed this chance, the Amulet of Concentration would be lost forever. He poured every ounce of concentration into the moment.