Showing Up for Work Has Never Been This Dangerous

Kim Pildu had thought it was a jackpot when he first heard the rumor a few days ago—whispered through the halls of Midas—about where Corporate Slave Life was heading next.

It was only natural.

Taking him on as a disciple would be nice and all, but I've got to film this.

Even though Kim Pildu wasn't all that famous within Midas, his Nuttube view counts had absolutely exploded the moment word got out that he'd be following Corporate Slave Life.

And what if Corporate Slave Life took even the slightest interest and actually accepted him as an apprentice?

That was a matter of something beyond money and fame.

He'd become a hunter in the first place because he'd yearned for that life—the romance of it! The thrill! Adventurers and explorers banding together to defeat unknown enemies and claim their spoils! That was Kim Pildu's dream, his aspiration, and simply imagining it had become one of life's greatest pleasures.

So being able to watch Corporate Slave Life's dungeon dives—solitary hunting that came closest to that old-fashioned romance—was nothing short of a jackpot.

But once he actually arrived on site, the scale of the stage was simply too big.

This doesn't feel like a stage set up for Corporate Slave Life at all...

A large-scale team deliberately assembled by Arc Industry for a precision strike.

Absurdly lavish equipment, and Kang Minho besides—recruited, they said, for his star power.

The moment Kim Pildu laid eyes on all of it, an inexplicable unease began to creep up on him.

Whatever Arc had prepared, Kim Pildu had seen his share of the hunter industry over the years, and his eyes told him nothing out there could possibly surpass Corporate Slave Life...

Because say what you will, Corporate Slave Life's charm lay in the clean elegance of his sheer perfection.

No noisy explosions, no flashy illusions. Instead, a crisp, high-caliber tidiness that was neither too much nor too little—as if measured with a ruler.

I know that's the harder, more impressive thing to pull off... but the general public is a different story.

People, on casual viewing, want whatever looks flashier on the surface, with more color and more stimulation.

And that was exactly why he'd gone pale with dread, wondering if the spotlight was about to be stolen from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠under them completely.

But... there was never any need to worry, was there.

Even amid the chaos, Kim Pildu thought back on what had just happened.

His vision hadn't been clear enough to be certain—but that silhouette had definitely been Corporate Slave Life.

The light had been so blinding that the memory was hazy, but it didn't matter.

Kim Pildu had a camera. All he had to do was replay the footage.

And as he focused, the camera began playing back everything the whited-out view had hidden from him.

First came Kang Minho soaring through the air like he was the protagonist of the world, under Arc's full protection.

He loosed his signature strike—and Kim Pildu doubted his own eyes.

No matter how many times he rewound, the man had clearly landed his hit, and yet where that battleaxe wreathed in brilliant flames should have torn through flesh, there was only empty air.

Well, that's fascinating.

The chat froze for an instant—then came pouring down like a waterfall.

The viewers' uneasy premonition was not wrong.

With his full-power swing cutting through nothing but air, Kang Minho hung defenseless in midair—and the serpent's tail sent him flying.

Then the enormous mass of flame and energy, suddenly with nowhere to go, slammed into the crystal walls and began reflecting off them like mad.

Zeeeeng— FLASH!

Once, twice. In a place where nothing but crystal stretched in every direction, the reflections compounded infinitely—until the entire field of view drowned in white.

"Aaargh! My eyes!"

That was the moment. A perfect Whiteout.

I figured the lens would still catch something... guess not, huh?

Nothing was visible. Even the world beyond the lens had been bleached pure white.

...Or so he'd thought. Eyes shut against the total whiteout, and even when he opened them, afterimages of light blotted out everything anyway.

And yet, astonishingly, the camera had captured someone entirely unexpected.

Thud. Thud.

Sparks scattering, crystals melting and bursting apart in shrapnel. A world turned white, in utter pandemonium—

when a strange, unnervingly calm sound of footsteps reached the microphone.

And then.

Across the camera feed, still strobing white and showing nothing at all, a single figure appeared—walking with the light at his back.

A silhouette burned pitch black by the harsh backlighting.

But as the man drew closer, Kim Pildu and his massive audience—watching the replay together—could finally make out who it was.

A sharply tailored suit. A necktie. And perched atop a mask, pixel sunglasses.

It was Corporate Slave Life.

He'd even come right up to the camera, face practically pressed into frame, as if he'd arrived with being filmed expressly in mind.

Lowering his pixel sunglasses slightly with one finger, grinning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all the while—

"Ladies and gentlemen. This is how dangerous commuting to work can be."

—was what the man actually had the nerve to say.

...Is this guy actually insane?

Even Kim Pildu, for once, could come up with nothing else.

Everything had been so chaotic the man probably ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't even know this was happening—and yet here he was, in a cave where crystals were falling and the heat was climbing, completely blind past an arm's length, cracking jokes?

Walking up to the camera, no less?

It went beyond absurd. It was awe-inspiring.

The man, acting as if the flood of reactions didn't exist even in the corner of his vision, gave a casual shrug and added—

taking over the broadcast on Kim Pildu's behalf, since the poor streamer could neither see nor hear anything through the explosions and the blinding glare.

"But what can you do... gotta do what you gotta do to make money."

As if he'd hired Kim Pildu as his personal camera operator. And with those parting words, he turned and walked back into the sea of white.

The shadow shrank, growing faint. The screen was swallowed by white once more—but.

This time it's different.

Within that blinding white, something was visible now.

The afterimage of Corporate Slave Life—his black silhouette moving as if it were dancing.

And how much time had passed? Before long, the Crystal Serpent's dying shriek rang through the cavern.

KEEEEEEEAGH—!

BOOM!

A heavy, earth-shaking tremor, as though something colossal had just crashed into the floor.

Soon the light died down, the thick dust settled, and the world reclaimed its original colors.

And the screen held an absolutely jaw-dropping tableau.

The dungeon floor reduced to ruins, and atop it, the massive severed head of the Crystal Serpent lying where it had rolled.

Before it stood a man, lightly dusting debris from the shoulder of his suit.

Corporate Slave Life.

Carrying his briefcase as always, and in his other hand...

Snkkk.

...No way. Is it physically possible to take down a Crystal Serpent with that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tiny box cutter?

He was holding an absurdly small, almost pathetic-looking box cutter.

The sound of the blade retracting under his thumb rang out, somehow louder than anything else in the silence.

Really... though?

Kim Pildu's eyes still clearly held the image of that same box cutter slicing clean through the Metal Giant's tendons and bringing the whole thing down, which made it hard to know what to believe.

And yet, even as he thought that...

Does it even matter?

Kim Pildu simply smiled, thinking of Corporate Slave Life—the man in the pixel sunglasses with his playful antics, unlike any hunter Kim Pildu had ever known.

The reaction's great.

I glanced sideways past Kim Pildu, checked the comment feed, and silently rejoiced.

The whiteout.

Even while sprinting for my life toward the Crystal Serpent, I'd instinctively checked the camera and pulled that stunt.

Well, it couldn't be helped.

I'd arranged to coordinate with Na Heera, Managing Director at Midas, and I also wanted to pull the spotlight away from Arc Industry, who'd been hogging it this entire expedition.

It was absolutely not because I'm a concept-chong.

I'm already wearing the mask and the pixel sunglasses—showing up and doing nothing would just feel anticlimactic.

I'd shorted the market with nearly my entire net worth, plus whatever Na Heera was putting in on top. The harder I teabagged Arc, the sweeter the payoff.

And apparently the reaction was even hotter than I'd expected. Plenty of eyes on the stream, too.

Looks like Na Heera really did lay the stage properly.

Not that it would've been a difficult feat for her.

But showmanship alone was enough for now.

I'd clowned around to lend Na Heera considerable leverage, and the teabagging of Arc was complete—meaning it was finally time to reap the real profits.

Behind me, the massive Crystal Serpent lay fallen, its scattered monster by-products strewn across the ground...

Skipping those for now.

It wasn't that they were worthless—but they were already covered under my contract with Managing Director Na Heera, so Midas's collection team would come and handle them on their own.

My eyes were fixed on a far juicier prize.

There we go~.

The battlefield that Kang Minho's colossal blunder had thrown into pandemonium in an instant.

Specifically, Arc's main camp, where the aftermath had left everyone scatterbrained and their formation in ruins.

With Kang Minho smashed to pieces and the temperature climbing, over ninety percent of the hunters had already withdrawn in that chaos—and the ones who remained were in full panic mode.

Kang Minho himself was plastered against a wall, half unconscious, while the expensive equipment they'd hauled in was malfunctioning left and right, unable to withstand the Crystal Cave's heat and resonant hum.

Worse still, the shockwave from the serpent's collapse had agitated the remaining monsters, which were now converging on the camp like a closing net.

The commander was down, the operator's systems dead.

Left alone, the outcome was obvious. They'd have no choice but to retreat.

But a few of them were hesitating, apparently too attached to their equipment to let go.

"Go on! Move!"

I planted myself in front of them, cutting down the monsters lunging our way as I spoke.

"The heat is still pouring out of these walls, and there's a real risk of more monsters appearing. Most of your forces have already pulled out—if you don't leave now, it's only going to get worse."

I held the line against the monsters just enough to talk, and they stared at my back with eyes that looked stunned—or perhaps deeply moved.

Given the circumstances, I suppose they were seeing me through rose-tinted glasses.

All I actually wanted was to hustle them out the door so the supplies Arc couldn't bear to carry away would become "dungeon lost property"—and get swallowed up by yours truly...

The irony of the situation was truly exquisite.

"Th... thank you!"

Their faces said they'd just met a Buddha in hell.

Naturally, with barely anyone left and an enormous mountain of support equipment—not to mention exploration gear—there was no way they could pack everything.

"Leave it! The recovery team can come back for it later! Drop it and grab Kang Minho first! Move! Drag your feet and another Crystal Serpent could show up!"

They took only what they could reasonably carry, hoisted Kang Minho, and retreated.

A wise decision, gentlemen.

After confirming they'd vanished completely from view—and sending off the remaining Midas personnel as well—I walked toward the now-empty cavern, toward the garbage they'd abandoned behind.

No—not garbage at all.

These were the very items that Managing Director Han Tae-seok had written up in a formal report and vigorously recommended as essential to this expedition.

Well, in reality I stuffed it full of everything I wanted, but still.

Click.

I popped open one of the metal cases abandoned on the floor, and a grin spread across my face before I could help it.

"I'll put these to good use, Managing Director. Consider this my severance pay, settled in advance, shall we?"

And that wasn't all.

The report I'd handed Han Tae-seok had been carefully curated, but a briefcase only holds so much—so I was sifting through, selecting only the most valuable pieces, when—

Ding—!

My smartphone chimed abruptly in my pocket.

Apparently the failed expedition was being broadcast in living color, because the red candle on the stock chart was plunging straight for the floor.

Which meant the money I'd entrusted to Jang Hyun-woo for the short position—how much had it grown by now?

And Na Heera, who'd climbed aboard that short claiming she was betting on me?