Fifteen Minutes, a Hundred Million Years

"Don't go with those guys. Go with those two, and you'll take a knife in the back. Rotten bastards, the pair of them."

Off in the distance, two Awakeners slurped away at their drinks and snickered between themselves. Ordinary clothes, ordinary faces — anyone would have taken them for nothing more than a couple of fellow climbers.

Bonghyuk turned his head slowly and looked at Kim Cheolgu.

"This is your last attempt, and those two said they'd help you through it, right?"

"Ah — yes."

"Kim Yuaan. Jang Myeongman. Do Byeongbok..."

With every name that left his mouth, scenes surfaced in his mind.

Ssssss—

The final stretch of a run. A circle of seats, gathered under the pretense of splitting up the loot. A back left unguarded. A blade punching in deep with a soft, wet thud. Two faces, snickering.

Countless Awakeners had fallen just so — a knife in the back, before they could even shout Escape.

The inside of the Tower was a ship adrift on a trackless sea. The crime never came to light.

"Tragically, he died mid-run."

One line like that, and no one could ever know.

A low stir ran through the line of waiting Awakeners.

"...What's he saying?"

"No idea. But Do Byeongbok? I know that guy."

"Who's he?"

"Never made it back from the last run on Intermediate Floor 15. They said he died during the attempt..."

Bonghyuk's eyes went cold and hard.

"If you don't want to end up exactly like the men I just named, wait exactly fifteen minutes before you go in."

Kim Cheolgu swallowed hard, his face gone the color of ash.

"F-fifteen minutes?"

"That's right."

Another scene spread open in Bonghyuk's eyes.

Kim Cheolgu walking into the gate with those two. The Bureau's criminal enforcers storming in, too late. Afterward, only two men returning from that gate — and those two being dragged out in the enforcers' grip, both arms bent and broken behind their backs.

Bonghyuk mulled over that scene without a trace of feeling as he spoke.

"Wait fifteen minutes, and you'll understand exactly what I mean."

Then — a trembling voice from somewhere in the crowd.

"Those bastards... don't tell me they're the Tower Butchers?"

The Tower Butchers. An urban legend — they said the Butchers picked out only the weakest Awakeners, slipped them into their parties, and inside the Tower, where no law could reach, put a knife in their backs and stripped them of everything they owned.

Only silence followed.

One minute.

Two minutes.

The time crawled, stretched taut with tension. The two Awakeners who'd been waiting, sneaking glances at Kim Cheolgu the whole while, rose from their seats with irritation written all over their faces.

"Mr. Kim Cheolgu. We're busy people. Are we going, or not?"

"Ah, just a moment—"

Bonghyuk cut in flatly.

"...Wait. The reading isn't finished."

The man flicked a glance at Bonghyuk and snorted.

"The hell is this guy?"

And then, incredulity smeared across his face:

"Cheolgu, buddy? You don't trust us? Don't listen to gutter trash like this — let's head in. We're short on time as it is. We carved a slot out of our schedule to be here."

Kim Cheolgu could only stand there, cold sweat sliding down his face, his mouth refusing to open.

"I said wait."

At that one line, the Tower Butcher finally let his scowl break loose.

"Has this punk actually lost his mind?"

Then—

RRIP—

The air split apart as if torn, and out walked men in immaculate black uniforms, not a seam out of place.

Criminal Enforcement Officers of the Awakener Management Bureau.

The fifteen minutes had passed.

"Uh—?"

The two men's faces froze solid.

"Gu Bonwoo. Ma Myeongmuk. In accordance with Article 17 of the Tower Space Criminal Code, you are both under arrest on suspicion of criminal acts within the Tower. You have the right to retain counsel and the right to refuse to make a statement..."

Gu Bonwoo jerked back a step, startled, while Ma Myeongmuk angled himself, slow and sly, toward the gate.

"Take them."

But every enforcer present was an S-rank Awakener — combat-specialized, at that. The two men's arms were wrenched up behind their backs.

"Wh— what?! Let go of me! Where's your evidence?! I said, where's the evidence!"

The thrashing lasted all of an instant.

CRUNCH.

A face ground into the floor, and they were pinned flat before they could so much as kick.

The two men were hauled away, heels dragging. The Awakeners queued at Bongshindang could only watch the scene, mouths hanging half open, dazed.

Those fifteen minutes Bonghyuk had named — they truly had saved Kim Cheolgu's life.

Gulp.

Kim Cheolgu swallowed dryly, and Bonghyuk said, without a flicker:

"Next."

Kim Cheolgu stood staring at the spot where the two men had vanished, mouth opening and closing. He wanted to say something — anything — but no sound would come out. Then, all at once, he snapped back to his senses.

"Th-then can I... just get up now...?"

"Leave the offering."

Cheolgu fumbled out a fifty-thousand-won bill and laid it down. Fifty thousand won. As a price for a man's life, there was no cheaper one to be found.

"Kim Cheolgu. Intermediate Floor 20 — take another shot at it tomorrow. Nothing else to watch out for. Just bring plenty of potions. And remember: change the date or re-form your party after your reading, and the outcome changes with it. Don't forget that."

"Ah — yes, yes sir!"

Kim Cheolgu backed away, bowing at the waist over and over. Bonghyuk gave a careless jerk of his chin.

"Next. Two left. I'm only taking three today."

He'd hammered the point home like a nail — and still, not one person in line, not one of the onlookers, made a move to leave. Every last one of them stood entranced, staring blankly at Bonghyuk's divinations.

The next visitor crept forward and pressed his forehead to the ground.

"I-I'm called Seo Hyeokgeon..."

"I know. You need to swap out one of your party members."

"...Pardon?"

"That fellow over there. He happens to be headed for the same floor — go in with him."

Bonghyuk pointed to one side of the line — a scrawny young man glancing around in complete bewilderment, who startled at being singled out.

"M-me?"

"Yeah, you. You're a gatherer, right?"

"Ah — yep."

"Seo Hyeokgeon's party here has an alchemist. All three of you win if you go in together. The Grove Where the Hero's Soul Slumbers — you'll clear it without any trouble. There's good loot all over that floor, so stuff those inventories to bursting."

The watching gatherer blinked, utterly lost. The client was only half convinced. But not a single soul raised an objection — they had all just watched, with their own two eyes, this man's reading save a life.

"Next."

The next visitor bowed.

"You... don't go in today."

"Sorry?"

"It's an ill-omened day for you. Rest today, and go at dawn the morning after next. That's your lucky day."

"Ah — yes. Is there anything special I should prepare...?"

"Nothing. It's a lucky day, so you'll clear it without a hitch. If you hate the heat, bring at least a fire-resistance cloak."

At that, Kim Jian snapped into motion beside him and produced something with a crisp flourish.

"Something like this?"

"Ah — yep."

As if he could possibly not buy it.

And so it went, all the way through the final three clients. Bonghyuk's readings flowed without a single snag. Then he gathered himself up from his seat and said:

"That's it for today. Come back tomorrow."

Someone near the front of the line blurted out, urgent:

"Um — excuse me. I already took a number ticket. If I come back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tomorrow, you'll see me right away... right?"

Bonghyuk nodded. Beside him, Jian clapped her hands briskly as she straightened up the stall.

"All right, everyone! Hang on to those number tickets — I've got every single one logged, so buying and selling tickets for money is absolutely not allowed~ Got it?"

Even after Bonghyuk had gone, the Awakeners who hadn't gotten a reading couldn't bring themselves to leave.

That same day, at the Awakener Management Bureau.

Director Oh Jeonghun, unable to drag his eyes off the monitor, asked Section Chief Jeong Heeju beside him:

"Is Wooseok still at it?"

"Yes. Ten days now."

At her answer, Oh Jeonghun let out a long, long sigh.

Only days before, an SSS-rank Awakener had come back — having failed the attempt on Hell difficulty's 7th floor and fought his way out alive. Jeong Wooseok.

One of the strongest Awakeners in South Korea had sealed himself inside a hotel room with no intention of coming out. At first, everyone took it for a few days' rest — fair enough, too, since the man had escaped that 'Hell' difficulty with his life. But the seclusion stretched on: one day became two, two became ten.

It was burning him up inside.

Oh Jeonghun slowly lifted his head and looked at the display board that filled the wall.

"Ahem..."

The two-year deadline they'd treated as their Maginot line had finally broken. It had already been a full year, stuck at the threshold of Hell's 7th floor — and all the time they'd banked for it was being nibbled away, bit by bit.

Oh Jeonghun chewed at his lip. This could not go on.

And so, in the end, he found himself at the hotel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suite where Jeong Wooseok had shut himself away.

Knock, knock.

"Wooseok."

They'd known each other since the earliest days of his Awakening. Hyung and dongsaeng had always come easiest between them. In his hand, Oh Jeonghun carried a bottle of soju.

No answer came.

"Coming in, Wooseok."

Beep—

The master key released the lock. The air inside the room hung heavy and dead.

Jeong Wooseok sat curled on the sofa in a room with the lights off, staring blankly out at the view beyond the glass.

"...You came?"

"Been resting up?"

"I'll file the report later."

"I didn't come to talk reports."

Oh Jeonghun said it absently, stepping out of his shoes.

"Just came to see your face."

He sat down beside Wooseok, twisted the cap off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the soju, poured a paper cup, and handed it over.

"Have a drink."

Without so much as a glance at him, Wooseok took the cup and tipped it down his throat. The Director settled in beside him and emptied his own.

"Hotel that comfortable? Why not go home?"

"Just 'cause."

"The dealership's been calling our office about that car you ordered. Says you won't take their calls. You should at least call your manager."

"Yeah."

"Samseon Life called, too. Your ad shoot's coming up, they said. They've even asked the Bureau to cooperate."

"Mm. I know."

Pointless small talk, tossed out for nothing — and clipped, one-word answers were all that came back.

"You been eating properly?"

"...Yeah."

Oh Jeonghun didn't press. He only refilled the paper cup, and let the silence sit for a long while.

In the end, he asked anyway.

"...What was it? Floor 7."

At the question, a long breath hissed out of Jeong Wooseok.

"...Ha."

A long stretch of silence. Then:

"An infinite space."

"Infinite space?"

"Yeah."

Jeong Wooseok murmured it, eyes still on the window.

"A room papered in yellow, wall after wall with no end to it. Hallway, room, hallway, room — over and over, one after the other. Yellow walls, and nothing but bright fluorescent light."

Wooseok stared down, blank, at the paper cup in his hand.

"No objective, no enemies. Nobody even knows the clear condition. Just... empty hallways and empty rooms, running on forever. Not a sound in any of it."

"A White Room type, then. ...You pulled the most fucked-up draw there is."

"Yeah."

Jeong Wooseok nodded, slow.

"I figured I'd try to break it. I spent a month in that White Room, you know that? Sure, out here it'd be under an hour for you — but in there, it was a month. A month of walking, alone, the whole time. Couldn't tell whether I was covering ground I'd walked or somewhere brand new. I just walked. Because I felt like I'd go insane if I didn't."

"......"

"The faintest rustle from anywhere and my heart would drop straight through me. But I'd turn around, and there'd be nothing. Couldn't tell if the sound came out of my own body or out of something else. Even so, I gritted out that whole month on the thought that I had to break it somehow—"

His voice caught, thick.

"I don't know how you break it. Not at all. Somewhere around the one-month mark I felt myself going mad. Something wears away in you, from the inside out. So slowly. You just... crumble to pieces."

The look on Wooseok's face as he said it seemed one breath away from shattering into tears.

"..."

'Hell' difficulty.

That place was a vault packed to the seams with every scrap of malice the world had ever produced. When a colossal monster crawled out, you were almost grateful — at least that was something you could fight and beat.

In the past ten years, South Korea had confirmed twenty distinct forms that 'Hell' could take.

A plague floor that infected you the moment you entered, your stats collapsing as the hours passed, your skin rotting and sloughing away. A psychological-collapse floor that pried open each climber's private traumas with vicious persistence. And that was hardly all — a floor where alien insects poured in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠without end and you had to repel them hundreds of times without rest. A floor that would not clear until one of the three who entered lay dead. And on, and on.

A hell where combat power meant nothing, where mankind's most primal fears held dominion, where not even the clear conditions were given — in every sense of the word, an unknown hell.

No one could prepare for what they couldn't foresee. And the cramped limit of an inventory only compounded the problem.

Oh Jeonghun laid a hand on Wooseok's shoulder.

"Right. You've been through hell. Get your head straight, then come back. Next attempt, we take Floor 7—"

"Hyung. My next attempt is my last."

Jeong Wooseok said it with a smile gone hollow at the edges.

"Hyung. Remember? The very first time I went into Hell difficulty?"

"..."

"It was a lot like this floor. One big empty space, nothing in it but a single clock. The time draining away one second at a time. I did the math on that room, hyung. It was a hundred million years. Clear it by waiting out a hundred million years. Genuinely insane, right?"

Wooseok laughed — a dry, broken little sound.

"Fuck, hyung. I knew it right then."

He looked up with eyes gone glassy and hollow.

Director Oh Jeonghun found himself recalling a famous line.

Just as the words said. The crystallization of pure malice, nothing less.

"But hey, hyung. My next run's my last. What if I get that hundred-million-year room again? I can't even bear to imagine it."

"Wooseok."

"Hyung, I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

As if to say the conversation was over, he turned his head away.

"..."

Had his will finally broken? Oh Jeonghun couldn't bring himself to push any further. He just turned his paper cup over in his fingers.

"...Get some rest."

Stepping out of the room, Oh Jeonghun placed a call.

"Yes, Director?"

"Chief Jeong. Get the new SSS-ranks prepped and ready. As of this moment, Wooseok is retired."

"...Understood."

Hanging up, Oh Jeonghun spat out a curse.

Just like that, another one of South Korea's SSS-ranks had been broken.

"Damn it. We can't even begin to guess what's coming out of that place — and the only answer is to keep feeding people into it..."

How, exactly, was anyone supposed to prepare for that?

That very same hour.

The one Awakener in all the world who might, just maybe, know in advance what would come out of the Tower — Do Bonghyuk — was today as ever flattened against the mattress in his half-basement studio, peeling the film off a convenience-store lunchbox.

"Another rave review of me on AlTube, huh. Heh heh."

And there he stayed, lazing and rolling around, watching the star gamers' videos on AlTube.

© KAY™#13lul

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.