#25 Yerina Fell Asleep When the Campfire Was Almost Out

Yerina finally fell asleep around the time the campfire was almost out. On the tablet, Jin So-yul stroked the girl's hair one more time before carefully scooping her up.

Her breathing came soft and steady.

"She's asleep."

"Thank you, traveler."

Jin So-yul gave a small smile, closed the door, and stepped out.

The village was quiet. Inside the tablet, she leaned against the fence, gazing up at the night sky. It had been ages since she'd seen a view like this—so stunning it bordered on overwhelming, the kind of sight that stirred unnecessary sentimentality.

Orc scout party of 8 eliminated. Village damage minimal, well intact. Honestly, that last part was a bit much, but good was good.

Jin So-yul perched on the edge of her bed and pulled out her smartphone. It had been nearly two full days since she'd entered floor 6, after all.

Her eyes locked straight onto the inbox the moment the screen lit up.

"The email I was waiting for is here."

"Let's take a look."

The email she'd left on the community forums had done its job. A military climber spotted the post, reported it up the chain, and now the government was reaching out.

It followed the exact path Jin So-yul had anticipated. She nodded firmly and continued.

"It's from the Tower Response Special Division under the Ministry of National Defense. They're inquiring about cooperation."

"I'll check the community too."

Opening the climber community, the list of posts looked drastically different from just a few days ago.

It was a night-and-day difference from before. Considering this was a community only accessible to those who'd cleared floor 1, most climbers had chimed in. Women too, it seemed, and info was flowing freely.

The more she thought about it, the more airtight their response seemed. A week since the towers appeared, and they'd already set up a new division, sent in combatants, and were surveilling communities. Competent government, swift action, organized structure. In webnovels, it was a welcome yet ominous combo.

...I hope it's just overthinking.

Jin So-yul sent a reply with her one-room address. If today didn't work, tomorrow morning would, she added.

It was long past sunset outside, but Jin So-yul didn't mind stepping out. Black puffer jacket, sneakers. Her one-handed sword was stowed in her #Inventory, making her look like nothing more than a pretty early-20s woman.

A black sedan waited in front of her building. Just two hours after she'd replied, well past rush hour.

The back door opened, and out stepped a middle-aged man in a suit. Navy coat, neat hair, impeccable tie, with the sharp discipline of a soldier in his posture. No visible rank insignia.

"Jin So-yul, right?"

"Yes."

"Tower Response Special Division under the Ministry of National Defense, Colonel Lee Do-jin. Could we talk for a moment?"

A colonel was high-ranking. Which meant they were that thirsty for intel.

Jin So-yul scanned the surroundings. Passersby in the alley glanced their way and hurried off.

"Not here—somewhere else."

"Would the car be alright?"

"Sure."

She slid into the back seat. Lee ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Do-jin took the opposite side, and the door shut. Another man sat quietly up front. She glanced his way once, then turned back.

"Straight to the point: We've seen your community strategy post. You cleared up to floor 5—true?"

"Yes."

"As far as we know, you're the only one worldwide to do it right now. We've verified."

Her expression didn't change. It was all according to plan. Clearing floor 5 had projected the constellation's influence onto Korea, and nations worldwide would be scrambling for that data.

Lee Do-jin pulled a document envelope from inside his coat and handed it over.

"Our proposal has three main points. First, mutual sharing of tower strategy intel. Second, supply support—weapons, food, medical included. Third, personal protection."

"There'll be a price."

"Regular reports on your progress. And if government-level scheduling conflicts arise later, we'd like to discuss cooperation."

Jin So-yul flipped open the envelope. Government data since the tower's appearance: nationwide climber count, clear rates, casualty stats. The tablet's resolution made fine details fuzzy, but she got the gist.

"Casualties around 3,500."

"Deaths and missing: about 1,200. Severe injuries: 2,300. The former are essentially..."

"Dead. Inside the tower."

"Yes."

"Tracked constellation contractors yet?"

"...We've had reports of some climbers gaining unexplained abilities. But the mechanism is still under investigation."

"Hm."

"As you know, even identifying the tower is a struggle. Without your info, we'd still be sending civilians to die."

No reason for her to refuse. But she focused on the implications.

"Generous terms. Thank you."

"It's only right. Korea needs people like you right now. We grasp the severity too."

Sincerity laced his tone. At least personally, he was the one seeking her cooperation.

Jin So-yul glanced away briefly. Probably recalling a past moment. The call was hers. No room for me to butt in.

"Just one thing to clarify."

"No interfering with my climbing speed. I have to go at my planned pace."

"May I ask why?"

"Slower clears mean more danger. Can't explain specifics now, but I have solid grounds."

"...Solid grounds."

"Yes. You'll see for yourselves in a few months. As a global catastrophe."

"Catastrophe... you say?"

"Yes, a catastrophe."

Boss difficulty scaling with regular floor clear times—a rule only grasped around floor 60. Would they even believe it now? Revealing her regression would just get her labeled crazy.

Lee Do-jin fell silent, eyes on the envelope. Maybe three seconds. Then he looked up.

"Understood. No interference with your pace. We won't push unreasonably."

"Thank you. Reports are fine, but only what I deem safe to share."

"We'll adjust flexibly."

Truth was, Jin So-yul had no better option. For what she wanted, this was the most efficient path. Rear support, overflow defense, supplies. Things she couldn't handle alone—the government filling those gaps meant she could clear the tower without losing the country.

That's why she'd reached out first.

"Can't commit right away, but I'll consider it positively."

"Thank you. Call this number when you decide."

He handed over a business card. She glanced at both sides and pocketed it.

Stepping out of the sedan, Jin So-yul headed back to her building.

"Constellation, you were worried?"

"Thank you both. It's fine—right within expectations."

She shrugged off her jacket, sat on the bed, took a steadying breath, and spoke calmly, as if organizing her thoughts.

"The terms are so generous there's nothing more to ask for... but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we have to show who's steering."

"Doesn't sit right, looking like we're blackmailing with lives..."

The rest was easy to guess. This way, they won't make wrong calls, something like that.

Would it work? No certainty. But if she was the only one who knew the past, this was the best shot.

"Thank you, Constellation. I'll rest now and head out tomorrow morning."

The lights went out. Her silhouette burrowed under the covers, faintly visible, until the tablet's one-room plunged into darkness.

I set the screen down and leaned back against the mattress.

The constellation report reward from Jin So-yul clearing floor 6 was 1,250 CP. Total now: 4,970 CP.

Can #Inventory alone beat the floor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠10 boss? No intel made it hard to say. Buying info from the shop was an option, but I needed to hoard for now.

50,000 CP. Asking the Wandering Sand of Despair for more felt... iffy, guilt aside.

Kim Woo-jin needed attention too. Floor 3 entry, solo up to 9. No CP from him anyway—just focus on growth.

"Busy, huh."

Still, I didn't hate it. Acting as a constellation made me feel truly alive. Way better than just surviving because I couldn't die.