Chapter 11
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Festival
-----------------------------------------------------------------
My tiny studio apartment was packed to the bursting point. The desk was overflowing, and the floor was completely conquered by food.
Tuna sashimi, sweet-and-sour pork, chili shrimp, fried chicken, pizza, sushi—you name it.
All these delicacies I'd only drooled over on menus were now in my room.
Ever since the Tower appeared and prices went insane, stuff like tuna sashimi had become a luxury for common folk like us.
Who'd ever dream of blowing through a million won without batting an eye?
But things were different now.
I picked up a piece of fatty tuna belly with trembling chopsticks.
Oil glistened between the pink flesh.
The moment it hit my tongue, it melted away smoothly. The rich fat slid down my throat.
"......Ah."
A short sigh escaped me.
To think I'd forgotten how good this was. Days of choking down convenience store onigiri flashed by—such a pathetic life.
My throat tightened. Damn, it was so good I could cry.
Little One was busy next to my shoulder, gripping a chicken leg as big as itself with both hands and tearing into it fiercely.
It was pretty cute, growling away with sauce smeared all over its mouth.
"That's right, eat up. We can have this stuff every day from now on."
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and kept shoveling food with the chopsticks.
I ate until I was sick of it. Until my stomach felt like it might burst and I just wanted to lie down.
In the end, I barely made it through half the spread before collapsing onto the bed.
The aftertaste of gourmet food lingered in my mouth, and my belly was the size of a mountain.
Little One had hit its limit too, sprawling out starfish-style in the middle of the bed, snoring softly. Its bloated tummy rose and fell rhythmically.
It was peaceful.
A warm room, a stuffed summon, and ten billion won.
Wasn't this what happiness was all about? Nothing fancy.
I rolled over lazily and pulled out my smartphone, opening the real estate app.
I'd moved in on a whim when rents plummeted after the Tower showed up and everyone called the area dangerous. I'd figured I'd never need this screen again.
My original dream had been to save up and move somewhere far from the Tower—a safe, normal neighborhood.
But now the situation had changed.
'The Tower's basically my workplace now.'
Considering commute time, living nearby was best. Every extra minute of sleep counted.
But this shoebox of a studio—no room to even take off my shoes—had to go.
Dragging in a bag of cash like today? I'd get robbed for sure. I needed top-notch security and a yard for Little One to play in.
I pinned the map to the area around the Tower.
"No studios... At least two bedrooms. New build."
I scrolled through hunter-only officetels.
But nothing good turned up, no matter how far I searched. My brow furrowed deeper with each swipe.
"......What the hell? Why's there nothing?"
I figured out why soon enough.
Cheonan Tower was in a backwater zone hunters ignored—a so-called "abandoned district." No demand meant no infrastructure.
Fine, forget hunter officetels. Time to check regular listings around the Tower.
My finger paused on one spot after a while of browsing.
A detached house, less than a one-minute walk from the Tower.
[For Sale] Two-Story Detached House - 500 Million Won.
"Five hundred million?"
A two-story place with a yard and storage shed—for five hundred million? In Seoul, it'd go for fifty billion easy.
Tower proximity made it dirt cheap. Thank you very much.
I nearly hit the contract button right then. But my finger hesitated.
'Wait... Don't I need ID for real estate deals?'
Everything went dark.
I glanced at myself. A beauty who didn't exist on paper.
Plop down on a realtor's couch looking like this and say, "Here to buy a house"? Straight to the lost child center.
"......This is a bigger problem than I thought."
Ten billion in the bank, but no house? Infuriating.
ID laundering? Brokers? A normie like me wouldn't know. Seen it in movies, sure.
Couldn't just ask someone to lend their name either.
'Eh, it's not urgent.'
Not like I was getting evicted tomorrow.
Better to take time and think of a good solution.
"Ah...... Gotta clean up and sleep......"
The floor was a disaster.
Chicken bones on sashimi plates, sweet-and-sour sauce crusted on the floor.
And wads of fifty-thousand-won bills scattered everywhere.
No strength left to lift a finger.
'Screw it... Whatever... Tomorrow... Think about it tomorrow.'
I nudged the belly-up sleeping Little One to the corner and flopped onto the bed. Burying my face in the fluffy pillow wrapped me in pleasant drowsiness.
I left the cleanup to tomorrow's me and surrendered to the good vibes, drifting into deep sleep.
I woke to the stale smell of cold chicken stabbing my nose.
Something hard poked my back. Crinkly bundles of paper.
Wads of fifty-thousand-won bills blanketing me like a quilt.
"......Not a dream, huh."
I cackled like a madman. Hugged the cash and rolled around.
The grin wouldn't leave my face.
That's when the familiar status window popped up in midair.
Progress: 5/101
I stared blankly at the number.
Floor 5. Just one mid-boss, and I'd scored ten billion.
A few days ago, wasn't I stomping around, desperate to hit S-rank quick?
Now that the big money was in hand, that greed melted away like snow.
Do I really need to...?
I could just pop into the Tower whenever cash ran low...
Once a year. No, every two years. That'd let me live off easy street forever.
I didn't have some grand ambition anyway. Why risk my neck?
I booted up the computer.
Games I'd neglected for Tower climbing were waiting.
At first, my small hands fumbled on the keys, but a gamer's soul doesn't die.
I adapted fast. Got sucked into the screen.
One game, two... Fully adapted, I dove in all day.
Little One watched curiously at first, but lost interest when I ignored it for the game.
It snuck onto the bed, grabbed my smartphone, and fiddled with it.
Deep in a match, I glanced back and burst out laughing.
It had figured out short-form videos already, sprawled on the bed giggling at clips.
"......Hey, you already hooked on shorts?"
No response. Little One swiped up frantically with its thumb for the next one.
Monitor glow and smartphone chatter filled the room.
Peaceful.
Hard to believe just yesterday I was rolling in a blood-soaked dungeon floor. Felt like ancient history.
"Argh, come on! Don't waste your ult like that!"
Red [DEFEAT] slammed the screen.
I raged and yanked open the fridge. Empty. Needed cola. Couldn't survive without fizz.
Cola... I want cola...
Snagged the hoodie off the chair.
From my guy days, it hung to my knees. Skipped pants—too lazy. Just to the corner store.
Pulled the hood low.
"Hey, grabbing some cola. Be good."
A word to the short-form zombie, then slipped out in my slippers.
Even on the short walk, eyes followed.
Drunks froze mid-drag, couples halted mid-chat. Hood didn't hide everything—face peeked out, snow-white hair gleamed under streetlights.
'What? Something on my face?'
Rubbed my sleeve over it. Stares lingered. Felt like a zoo monkey.
Store door chimed; dozy clerk snapped awake.
Eyes met.
Sleep vanished from his face. Scanned my hood shadow, locked on white hair. Lips twitched, stopped.
I ignored him, grabbed a 1.5L cola.
Thumped it on the counter. Tried my usual gruff tone. "Bag."
"Bag...... Eep."
Voice cracked. Came out high and clear—pure maiden tone.
Panicked silence. Clerk fumbled for a bag, hands shaking.
"Y-Yes! H-Here! F-Five thousand won!"
Change fingers tangled.
I snatched the coins and bolted. A shriek trailed: "C-Come again!" Ignored it.
'Kids these days overdo the service smile.'
Shook the cola bottle heading home.
Outside was danger. Anything beyond the blanket was hell.
Back to gaming.
Headset screamed with teammates' wails. I clicked madly.
Dopamine exploded with each skill barrage on-screen.
This was it.
Behind me, Little One's giggles mixed with addictive short-form beats.
Riches, full belly, games on fire. Perfect rest.
Then it happened.
Right beside me, a status window appeared in midair.
Progress: 5/101
Beneath the usual blue text, an unfamiliar red line slithered into view.
[100:00:00]
The numbers spawned, and the timer kicked off.
99:59:59...
99:59:58...
A chilling countdown.
But I was locked in the match, eyes glued to the monitor.
Little One was busy swiping to the next short too.
Oblivious that my freedom was limited to just 100 hours.