Asymmetric Power (1)
Shrrrk—
Less than half a day after leaving the hotel, he returned in an instant.
“Whoa… this would make traveling pretty convenient, huh?”
Traveling. It was a luxury he had never even dreamed of.
Truthfully, this trip to Japan left him feeling a bit disappointed.
Who would have guessed his first visit to Japan would be nothing more than a business trip?
Still, the reward had been solid, so he could endure it.
If not now, when else could he have snatched the rewards from Japan’s Magic Towers and slipped away?
They had promised to handle the aftermath themselves.
In the separate room of the suite where Choi Junseok was temporarily staying, Team Leader Kang, who had been typing away at his laptop, sensed his presence and walked over.
“Welcome back. I’m glad you’re safe.”
His expression carried a hint of unease and tension.
Japan had yet to descend into chaos over the unidentified F-grade player who had set a new record for the fastest clear of Shibuya Magic Tower’s first floor.
Since Junseok had returned within seconds of clearing it, it was only natural that Team Leader Kang had not yet received any reports from Japan.
“Don’t worry. I succeeded.”
With a flourish, Choi Junseok summoned the bound reward box onto his palm.
Team Leader Kang stared at the hidden reward from the first floor—an item he had never seen before.
“It comes in a box? I was under the impression that first-floor rewards were fixed.”
“Yeah, well. It’s basically just wrapping paper, honestly.”
After all, Choi Junseok had already opened two first-floor rewards.
He roughly understood the mechanics.
Though they appeared as random boxes, the items that dropped from the first floor of each Magic Tower were fixed. Moreover, once the recipient changed, the existing items would vanish.
Team Leader Kang simply nodded repeatedly, looking satisfied, as if none of that mattered to him.
“I’ll report to my superiors immediately. You’ve done something tremendous, Junseok. On behalf of Korea… and on behalf of the players who were unjustly sacrificed, I offer my gratitude.”
Then he bowed deeply at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
“You’ve truly accomplished something great. The Director of the Player Management Agency said that if you’re willing, he would like to meet and thank you in person. He lamented that the current situation makes that impossible. On behalf of Korea… and on behalf of the players who were unjustly sacrificed, I offer my gratitude.”
Choi Junseok raised both hands and shook his head dismissively.
“It’s fine. If he’s grateful, tell him to send money.”
“…Understood.”
“And let’s be clear about one thing. I didn’t do this for revenge or praise. I did it purely for my own selfish gain and profit.”
That was exactly how it had been.
He had simply seized the opportunity to maximize his benefits, driven by ordinary, petty desires.
There had been no other grand goals or ambitions.
“Well then. Since I’ve confirmed your safe return, I’ll take my leave. Also… I may not be able to maintain smooth contact for a while.”
“…?”
“I bear responsibility for the attack on your home, but there’s also a large-scale investigation underway. I’m not exempt from it either, so…”
“An investigation is an investigation, but who am I supposed to get updates about my family from in the meantime? My mother and sister are safe, right?”
“Of course. However, until the situation is resolved, it would be best to refrain from meeting or contacting your family for at least a week.”
There was no helping it. He understood this was a national emergency.
These protective measures were ultimately for his and his family’s safety.
“In that case, find me a penthouse on your way back.”
It seemed abrupt, but it was such a typical Choi Junseok response that Team Leader Kang let out a small chuckle and nodded.
By now, he was almost used to these half-joking exchanges.
“A penthouse, huh. Haha, that’ll be expensive. Will twenty floors be enough for you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I’ll reach the forties within a month anyway.”
“That’s true. You’re clearing two floors at a time. Well then, I’ll excuse myself.”
Team Leader Kang left the room without asking what reward had come from Shibuya Magic Tower or how Junseok was clearing two floors at once.
Even though it was a guaranteed reward box, Choi Junseok still summoned Song Hana and received her blessing before opening it.
The three of them stared meaningfully at the box resting on his palm.
“This time as well, something that surpasses the systemic limits of the Magic Tower will appear,” Lee Nayeon said.
Choi Junseok nodded.
“Yeah, the bonus rewards and hidden first-floor rewards definitely felt that way.”
“Come on out, something good! Okay!”
Her blessing, which always sounded half-hearted, was granted once again.
The only difference was that her face looked more cheerful than usual.
She was genuinely excited about the news that they had broken the first-floor record of Shibuya Magic Tower in Japan.
When asked if he wanted to open the box, he selected “Yes” without hesitation.
With a pop, smoke billowed out from the box.
The item that emerged still resembled a paper ticket.
Choi Junseok immediately activated his Appraisal skill.
Classification: Consumable
Description: Allows entry into any chosen floor of any Magic Tower. (Minimum 2nd floor ~ 100th floor)
◈ Once entered via this ticket, return is impossible by any means until the floor is cleared. (Return scrolls cannot be used)
“What the hell is this…”
Song Hana and Lee Nayeon seemed to sense that this was no ordinary item either.
‘I can challenge the 100th floor right away? But if I can’t clear it, I can’t return?’
—Don’t be ridiculous!! You’ll die if you go to the 100th floor!!
‘What is this guy even saying?’
“Why would I go to the 100th floor? Who am I trying to impress?”
There was no reason to put himself in mortal danger for no reason.
So to Choi Junseok, this ticket looked like this:
“Isn’t this basically a penthouse exchange ticket?”
It was a Mythic-grade item that wasn’t even soulbound upon acquisition, meaning ownership could be transferred indefinitely.
There was no need for Choi Junseok to sever the binding himself.
That alone spoke to the item’s immense value.
It was clearly something that nations moving large sums of money would want to secure first.
After all, there were dozens of countries where Magic Towers had appeared in major cities.
Those nations would likely be willing to spend national budgets to purchase it.
His porter’s instinct for appraising an item’s worth told him one thing clearly.
This would fetch no small amount of money.
At the same time.
Japan had sent a hostile signal to the Korean government through unofficial channels.
Their expressions of regret and warnings filled roughly two A4 pages, but the content could be summarized in just two concise lines:
- We know you sent Function, you bastards.
- Do you really think he’ll make it back alive?
Korea’s response followed the expected script.
The message sent from Korea to Japan was a half-page document written in Korean.
Its content could be summarized in three lines:
- Do you have any actual evidence that it was us?
- I heard a new F-grade powerhouse appeared climbing Shibuya Magic Tower.
- Wishing you success.
It was the exact same tactic Japan had used—denying any evidence while throwing the same phrasing right back at them.
Matsumoto Hirobumi seethed with rage at the message.
He swore he would never let Function leave the island alive.
He also expressed a fierce determination to bring Song Hana back to Japan.
Additionally, he wondered how she had managed to break her binding with him.
Whether or not they knew the Defense Minister’s mood, the Japanese public was in a festive atmosphere.
“An irregular player has appeared in Japan.”
Everyone cheered at the emergence of this anonymous F-grade player.
At the same time, reports about the similar F-grade player known as Function, who had become a hot topic in South Korea, began to cool the Japanese archipelago.
Japanese news outlets uniformly reported that South Korea had violated international EU agreements by illegally raiding another country’s Magic Tower, calling it an act comparable to military provocation.
While public opinion in Japan called for demanding compensation from Korea, Choi Junseok delivered yet another dose of false hope to Japan.
The very next day, he cleared the second floor of Shibuya Magic Tower in zero seconds, setting their hopes ablaze once more.
Having already marked the coordinates in Japan, he instantly teleported to the Magic Tower, entered, and vanished without a trace.
Recalling the pre-cleared Magic Tower strategy, he summoned the Holy Sword.
“Summon!”
Thud—!
Congratulations!
You have cleared the 2nd floor.
Clear time: 0 seconds.
Would you like to register anonymously on the Hall of Fame? (Y/N)
Registered anonymously.
Japan was thrown into chaos, and there was another place quietly seething with rage.
China.
The “Magic Tower Floor Selection Ticket,” a nationally managed item, had disappeared.
China’s Magic Tower Department.
The fact that it was organized as a separate State Council department, unlike Korea’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs or Ministry of National Defense, spoke volumes about how China treated Magic Towers and players.
The Magic Tower Department was in an uproar.
Run Haoyong, the Director of the Magic Tower Department, received a shocking report.
“The last fortress we purchased for 32 billion won last time has been destroyed.”
“…What?”
“It seems Korea’s Function raided Japan’s Shibuya Magic Tower.”
“…What?!”
A loss of around 30 billion won was nothing in China’s budget.
What truly stung was the loss of their final trump card—the last resort that could push players to their deaths while challenging the 100th floor.
So while the 30 billion wasn’t the real issue, what truly shocked him was that Korea had invaded a Japanese Magic Tower.
“According to intelligence, Korea identified Japan as a suspect in the recent Korean player massacre, but Japan refused to cooperate and feigned ignorance.”
“…So this is their revenge?”
“It appears so. They also claimed they never sent their Function.”
“The previous record, as I recall…”
“It was 27 seconds. The new record is 0 seconds.”
“…What? Zero seconds?”
Who on earth could achieve zero seconds?
It made no sense unless someone with time-manipulation abilities had appeared.
China had believed the item was secure and had paid Japan a premium, spending a fortune to acquire it.
The total spent was 170 million yuan—roughly 32 billion won.
China’s original budget had been around 28.5 billion won, but after Japan’s negotiations and strong emphasis on safety, the price had risen to 32 billion.
The premium exceeding 4 billion won had been justified by that 27-second record.
That hard-earned Magic Tower 100th-floor challenge ticket.
It had been their final, last-resort card—one that would allow them to challenge the 100th floor without sacrificing their top-ranked players on the upper floors.
Still, disappointment was disappointment.
What he needed to do had become somewhat clear.
“Understood. Prepare to contact North Korea.”
“…Yes.”
He immediately sent a secret message to North Korea.
The content was equally concise.
It meant that Kaesong Magic Tower was now in danger.