A Solo Player's Circumstances

Squelch.

The moment I stepped through the 8th Floor gate, a soggy swamp came up to greet me.

"...So after the sauna, it's a septic tank?"

Black muddy water rose to my ankles. Damp, dark, and a rotting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stench that punched straight into the sinuses. I sighed and shook the muck off my shoes.

A pleased hum vibrated through the hilt.

The blacksmith's face flickered through my mind — the one who insisted darkness was only proper when it was cold and clammy. I'd written it off as an aesthetic. Turns out she meant it. The creator's twisted taste had been inherited by her creation, gene for gene.

Pshhhk!

Three or four swamp frogs burst from the muck, black venom mist coiling off their hides.

"Wail."

Shing. I drew the blade a mere half-span from its sheath, and a dark-crimson pulse rolled out.

Ribbit? Ribbiiiit—

The frogs stared blankly into empty air, then each rammed its head into a mud hole it had dug itself.

The boss room was a rotting pool in the middle of the swamp. The 8th Floor boss, the Poison Mist Toad, broke the surface. The instant it cranked its maw open, a violet fog of deadly venom billowed out in every direction.

Keeeegh?!

The fog swallowed my vision. One step. Two steps. The toad, panicking, lashed out with a tongue like a whip.

Slash!

The toad's tongue came apart in midair, sheared clean in half. Black blood sprayed from the cut.

Vwoooom...!

"Don't be a picky eater. Listen to you, talking like you're stuffed."

I leapt. Falling in a vertical drop, I drove the point of the blade straight into the toad's brow.

KRAKOOM!

A poison sac and a mana stone rose from the toad's corpse. I scooped them into my inventory.

"Poison and a bundle of curses. That woman will love this."

At some point, every time I looked at loot, that gloomy back-alley workshop started coming to mind. Getting used to something, I was learning, was a truly terrifying process.

I stepped through the 9th Floor gate without breaking stride.

The 9th Floor was a garden. Fragrant soil, and underfoot a carpet of fully bloomed red petals.

"Oh. This time my eyes might actually get a br—"

I didn't finish the sentence. The thick vine-stems laid across the ground twitched, then came crawling for my ankles.

Gooooh—

Night Wail released a pulse on its own.

...The vines did not stop.

Vwoom?! Vwoooom?!

The hilt shuddered violently in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my grip.

"It's a plant. You think brain rot works on something that doesn't have a brain?"

If there was no skull for the brain matter to rot in, you just cut it down the old-fashioned way.

Bluish trajectories overlaid my vision. I slipped through the gaps in the onrushing thorn vines and cut down everything that came at me.

Slash. Slash.

I pressed forward like a man with a weed whacker.

At the center of the garden stood a single old tree. The Thorn Rose Treant. Roses bloomed along the entire trunk, and dozens of thick thorn vines barred any approach.

The strategy was simple: fire attribute required. Skip the fire and you were looking at an all-night gardening session.

I tried cutting one vine. Slash. A new vine sprouted from the cut with a wet crackle.

"That works out."

I poured mana into the cursed blade.

Fwoosh!

Crimson flame overlaid the dark-red edge of the cursed blade — the heat it had been forced to swallow from Han Serin's furnace.

I drove the burning blade deep into the Treant's trunk.

Hissss! CRACK!

Kieeeeeek!

The cut seared and blackened. New vines tried to sprout, then stopped dead at the charred flesh.

"That does it."

I carved the trunk in a single stroke.

CRUNCH!

On the commute home from the Tower, I pulled out my phone and, out of habit, opened the Hunter Gallery.

Does he not have any friends?

...I don't, actually. How did they know?

I turned off my phone.

Jingle.

"Hello in there."

"Eek!"

"You've improved. Now you only scream."

"W-wel...come in..."

Oh. And she even said hello. Was this what taming a wild animal felt like?

I dumped today's harvest onto the counter. A toad poison sac that landed with a wet slap, a hunk of dense heartwood, and a single black rose.

"Today's loot. Research it, process it — use it however you like."

"T-this is... the Poison Mist Toad's poison sac...? And Treant's Heartwood on top of that...? You got all this in a single day...?"

Han Serin's gaze swept over the materials, then locked onto the black rose and stopped dead. A flower with black petals, red mana beading at the tips like dew. Her pupils started to tremble violently.

"A-a flower...?"

"Yeah. Dropped when I killed the 9th Floor boss."

"A man handing a woman a flower... in an enclosed space...?"

"It's just a material."

"This is... this is THAT! The meaning of a rose is passionate love...! And a black rose dripping with grudge and curses is... a vow that he won't let you go until death...!!"

Han Serin clapped both hands to her cheeks, her face going scarlet. Her breathing had gone shallow and fast.

"W-what do I do...! I haven't even introduced you to my parents yet! I haven't prepared the wedding gifts! H-how many cursed swords would you like???"

"Must be nice, having an imagination that rich."

That was when it happened.

Screeeech— THUD!

A racket erupted outside, followed by the sound of something being dragged, and a trash can crumpling as it was shoved against the wall. Through the window, a black car body was forcing its way into the alley. A blue mark on the door.

Yooseong.

"EEEK?!"

Han Serin went white and hurled herself under the counter.

Thud!

"D-debt collection! Yooseong Capital! I'm still three months behind on the loan interest...!"

"Why would you borrow Yooseong's money of all things."

"Because nobody else would lend money to a two-bit blacksmith like me!"

With practiced hands she yanked out a battered bundle and started stuffing odds and ends into it at speed. This was not her first time.

Jingle.

The workshop door swung wide. The first through were bodyguards in razor-sharp suits. Then, accompanied by the click of high heels, a woman walked in.

Blue hair. A luxury business suit that fit like it had been cut to her exact measurements. Her gaze swept the cursed blades hanging on the wall.

"Balance collapse. Defective center of gravity. Magical overload designed to eat away at the user's nervous system. It's riddled with defects."

"Hhghk..."

A muffled wail leaked out from under the counter.

Well. She's not wrong.

Without my trait, these were objects that would melt your brain matter the instant you gripped them. That much was true.

The blue-haired woman turned her head slowly and looked me straight in the eye.

"Hunter Baek Mujin?"

She offered a slight bow.

"A pleasure to meet you. Yu Hayeon, General Director of Yooseong Artifacts."

The youngest daughter of the Yooseong Group. I'd seen the face on the news.

The secretary at her side lit up a tablet and held the screen out toward me. A fully drafted contract was already displayed. The number of zeroes made me doubt my own eyes.

"The terms are the best in the industry. An immediate signing bonus of thirty billion won. A guaranteed annual activity stipend of five billion won. Launch of a dedicated equipment line, 'Yooseong × Mujin.' Real-time delivery of floor-customized S-rank gear. A full package — dedicated support team and strategy analysis unit. Enrollment in all four major social insurances, severance pay, and top-tier hunter injury coverage. What do you say?"

Yu Hayeon lifted her chin a fraction and continued, unhurried and unapologetic.

"If you'd prefer, you may contract as my personal exclusive hunter rather than with the Yooseong Group."

...I'll be honest, I'm tempted.

The phrase "four major social insurances" in particular had a nice ring to it.

That was when a sepulchral voice rolled out from under the counter.

"A chaebol heiress... buying a man with money...? This is that... the villainess heiress trying to steal a man with wads of cash...! The 'take this money and stay away from my man' cliché...! Hhghk, and I, the poor devoted wife, have nothing ahead but nights of tears in a ramshackle workshop, waiting to be discarded...!!"

Yu Hayeon's eyebrow twitched, just slightly.

"What is that?"

"Don't mind her. That's a daily occurrence."

I scrolled slowly down the tablet.

Behind the honeyed benefits, the fine print came into view — tiny clauses, densely packed.

"..."

The world swam before my eyes.

A five-day work week of clocking in and out? Commercial shoots twice a month? And mandatory dinners every Friday?

I became a hunter because I didn't want to work a company job.

Yu Hayeon's blue eyes widened a fraction, as if the reaction had not been on the script.

"...Are the terms insufficient? If it's the figure, we can negotiate further. I have discretionary authority up to fifty billion won—"

"No. Solo play just suits me better."

"Solo play?"

Yu Hayeon let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"Hunter Baek Mujin. The upper floors of the Tower are not structured to be cleared alone. Even the 10th Floor forces party play because of the gimmicks. No matter how exceptional a hunter you are, there is a ceiling you will hit without equipment and organizational support."

"I'll handle that myself."

Faced with that, Yu Hayeon did not press further. She drew a calm breath, then put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on a business smile.

"Very well. I'll withdraw for today. You'll come to me in the end anyway."

She produced a business card edged in gold foil from her jacket, and set it down on the counter with precision — directly beside the framed exclusive contract Han Serin had enshrined there.

"I'll be waiting for your call."

Click. Click.

She left, and a moment later the sedan outside reversed with a racket and rammed the trash can on the opposite side one more time.

A rustling. Han Serin crawled out.

"Y-you drove her off...!"

"Drove what off."

"A chaebol family's cash-bundle offensive... you turned it down to protect a two-bit blacksmith like me...! This is... this is pure love...! A hundred-year vow...! Two bodies, one heart...! A bond of three lifetimes...! We haven't even exchanged horoscopes yet and it's like we've already held the wedding...!"

"You're wrong on every count. And it was because of work-life balance."

"There's no need to be embarrassed! That pure and devoted love of yours... I'll spend my whole life repaying it in cursed swords!"

Han Serin spotted Yu Hayeon's business card on the counter. The look in her eyes turned murderous in an instant.

"This wicked vixen's trace...! It has to be burned...! I'll make you taste eternal agony in the forge...!"

I snatched her wrist before she could fling the card into the furnace.

"Leave it. You never know how a connection between people might turn out."

"HAAAHK?!"

Han Serin scrambled backward, hissing like a cat.

"Y-you're taking out insurance...? You mean to keep a second woman on the side while you have a devoted wife at home?? You playboy! You beast! You philanderer!!"

"No. I mean I might actually need it."

I stuffed the card into my pocket. Han Serin collapsed with the face of someone whose world had just ended.

I sighed and got out of the workshop. Stay in this place too long and your sanity stat starts dropping.

The next morning.

The instant I passed through the 10th Floor gate, a cool wind wrapped around my whole body. An open view. A plateau on a cliff, a white sea of clouds stretching endlessly below my feet.

"Oh... a floor that actually looks like a resort for once."

Enjoying the breeze, I walked out onto the wide clearing at the cliff's edge.

Something was off, though. I turned a full circle and couldn't find so much as a monster's shadow.

"What the hell. Where's the boss."

In that instant, a massive shadow swept fast across the plateau floor. The sunlight vanished for a beat. A chill ran through me, and I looked up.

The open sky. A huge silhouette punched through the clouds, gliding in wide circles. A colossal beast with a wingspan of a good ten meters — white feathers flashing with blue lightning. The 10th Floor boss monster: the Monstrous Bird Albatross.

Rumble!

The thing beat its wings, and dozens of feathers came pouring down.

Clang! Ching!

I swept the cursed blade and knocked the feathers aside. The Albatross, for its part, showed no intention of coming down at all.

Round and round. One circle. Then another.

A few feathers shook loose from the wingtips and buried themselves at my feet.

Thunk. Thunk.

I stared blankly at the giant bird circling lazily overhead.

"...Huh."

What was I supposed to do if the sword couldn't reach?