The Items Are Dying Inside Me

Another absurd pile of points had stacked up in my favor.

Nearly double the second-place score. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to believe I was actually superior to anyone.

Surely there were people out there better than me. There had to be. And yet, every single time the dust settled, my name was the one sitting at the top of that system window.

"…What the hell is going on with this system?"

The questions were starting to pile up. By any reasonable measure, that fight had been pathetic. I'd gotten chased around by goblins and barely scraped through by throwing magic at them.

And that was worth this many points?

I had no idea why. Either I was genuinely strong, or the Tower itself had a bug.

"Oh?"

That was a feature I hadn't seen in the tutorial. So starting from the first floor, they threw in extras like this.

"Not bad."

Maybe paying attention to the rankings was worth it after all. Not that I had the faintest clue how to raise my points on purpose.

I still didn't even understand why I was scoring this high in the first place.

"…Eh."

Whatever. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It wasn't like I was staking my entire life on the Tower.

My goal was to make a decent living off Magic Stones and then retire. I decided not to attach any deeper meaning to any of this.

"Is this that thing…?"

A new window I'd never seen in the tutorial bloomed in front of me.

Three blank choice slots marked with question marks appeared, waiting for me to pick one. I vaguely remembered reading on the gallery that this was where skill tomes or rare items could drop.

"My luck is terrible, though."

Worry hit me first. Ranking bonus or not, I had serious doubts anything good would come out of these empty boxes.

It was only the first floor, so I wasn't expecting anything spectacular in the first place — but still.

My luck really was that bad. I hesitated, with no idea which one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to pick.

"Mmm…"

I reached out and chose the middle one. Whatever happens, happens. As long as it spat out an item, I didn't care what it was. If I could sell it, anything was fine.

"Oh."

Not a bad pull, all things considered. A little disappointing that it wasn't a physical item, but a skill that let me stash things with zero effort?

That meant no more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hauling gear around the hard way like yesterday.

"I'll take it."

Pretty solid for a first-floor reward. I'd also earned three times the Magic Stones I had the day before. My name sitting at the top of the rankings still made my skin crawl, but whatever.

It was the reason I got the ranking bonus in the first place, so I wasn't about to complain.

"What."

The system, which had gone quiet, chimed again and yanked my attention back. Hadn't I already gotten all my rewards? Why was a brand-new item dropping out of nowhere?

"A seed, huh."

It looked completely ordinary from the outside. The kind of seed that would sprout the second you stuck it in dirt. A tiny, unremarkable little thing.

"And this is Legendary?"

What kind of item was this supposed to be, to land a grade like that?

Maybe I should ask the gallery. At the end of the day, the only thing I could really trust was the Hunter Gallery.

"Time to head back."

I'd walked away with more income than I'd expected. More than anything, getting the Inventory skill was the real win. So this was the storage window people always talked about.

"But how do I even use it?"

It didn't come with a pouch or a backpack. The skill name Inventory just sat there on my status window, vague and unhelpful.

"Inventory…?"

I murmured the skill's name under my breath. Maybe it worked the same way as transforming — just say the name out loud and it activates. That was the theory, anyway.

"Oh."

A moment later, I let out a small sound of admiration. My guess had been right. As if answering me, a blank gray screen popped open — the kind I'd only ever seen in games.

"So I just put stuff in here?"

I held the Magic Stones and the other items up to it. A faint spark jumped, and then they vanished inside.

Gear that had been a pain to carry around was suddenly organized with zero effort.

"Nice…"

Today was actually pretty good? So there had been a reason I'd survived nearly getting wrecked earlier.

Was it even okay for first-floor rewards to taste this good?

At this rate, I might retire before I even hit the tenth floor.

"Come on, at least tell me how to use it…"

I'd asked about the seed, but nobody gave me anything useful.

Just a stream of people calling me lucky, calling me a tryhard, trading jabs — and not a single person actually explaining anything about the seed itself.

The most I could scrape together was that it was an item you used while climbing the Tower. Something for clearing a quest.

"Ugh."

I was an idiot for expecting better. How many people on this gallery were even climbing the Tower on the same difficulty as me?

Monsters and rewards scaled with difficulty. That was how the Tower worked. I hadn't really expected much. How many people in a community like this would actually take the time to explain things properly?

"Having connections would be nice right about now."

Twenty-four years of living, and the closest thing I had to a network was a bunch of IPs on a gallery page.

If I'd had even one person who actually knew the Tower, I wouldn't have been leaving posts like this. I wouldn't have been spamming the board with question threads every single day.

It was pathetic. Sometimes this reality just felt lonely.

Even after awakening, I still don't have friends…

I'm still alone…

"That's depressing."

Chewing on the gloom, I set about sorting the items I'd picked up yesterday.

A dagger. Two spellbooks. And a longsword so heavy my body could barely lift it.

Useless to me — I already had a magic staff. Items I wanted to dump for cash the second I got the chance.

Just junk taking up Inventory space.

Getting rid of them was a problem, though. You couldn't exactly throw Tower items in the trash either.

"So this needs ID too…"

This world was genuinely cruel. Everything required an ID. Want to do anything at all? Show your papers.

"I'm going to lose it."

I wanted to curse the fact that I'd awakened at all. It felt unfair — like everything I'd risked my life for was being invalidated.

"I have the items. Why can't I just sell them…"

The whole situation made me bitter. I'd never worked this hard at anything in my life, and the results still looked the same as always.

My willpower was fraying. I just wanted to have some money for once. I wanted to eat a real meal.

Even pouring hot water into cup ramen was starting to get old. I wanted meat. I wanted fried chicken…

"Haa…"

I was broke. Disgustingly, desperately broke.

"How long do I have to live like this?"

A halfhearted rinse-off and a bowl of ramen didn't taste like anything special. Two months of the same cup noodles, and I couldn't even lie and call it good anymore.

"Ah…"

Buying clothes had already put my account on a diet, and now it was practically skeletal. I could feel tears welling up for no good reason. At this rate, fried chicken was a fantasy — I was barely scraping together enough for the ramen I was eating right now.

"…I need to stockpile Magic Stones, fast."

I still hadn't even hit one kilogram. Way too little to bother selling.

Whether anyone would even take a trade this small was up in the air. Show up with a pittance like this and I might get roughed up for wasting their time.

"…"

What I had to do was already decided.

Climb the Tower. Gather Magic Stones. Sell them for money.

Simple. Straightforward. Nothing complicated about it.

"As long as I make money…"

I could use magic now.

I'd learned a finisher as a magical girl. That took a weight off my shoulders. At the very least, I could protect myself.

For a while, climbing the Tower wouldn't be hard. I figured I could earn money without too much trouble.

Today's process had been pathetic and ugly — but the results had been excellent.

I probably wouldn't die helplessly. Not anymore.