The One Who Executes
After Director Oh Jeonghun left, Jeong Wooseok—SSS-rank Awakener—took a slow sip of the soju remaining in his glass, as if he had the luxury to savor it.
He stared into nothing, thinking. What am I supposed to do with my life now?
Money, honor, fame. He had amassed more than enough of all three. He could spend the rest of his days setting fire to his fortune and it wouldn't matter to anyone. And yet, somehow, all of it looked utterly pointless from where he sat.
Wooseok remembered. The euphoria of awakening at eighteen and grinding his way up the Tower one floor at a time for seven straight years.
Inside the Tower, he had been something close to a god. One sweep of his blades carved monsters apart, and every time he claimed another floor, the world roared its approval of his three-syllable name.
Without the Tower, what is Jeong Wooseok, exactly?
However many times he turned the question over, he arrived at the same place. ...I honestly don't know.
"Damn it."
Wooseok raked a hand through his hair. It felt like the ground had opened up beneath his feet. He had never known helplessness like this. And yet, when it came right down to it, he still didn't have the courage to set foot on Floor 7 again.
So he gulped down nothing but bitter soju and, out of pure habit, opened AwakenersNet.
And saw a strange post.
If you know, you know—here's a roundup of Bongmudang's dead-on readings from the booth in the Tower lobby.
1. "Take a silver weapon, whatever you do" — this is where the legend began. Lower 15F: the Vampire Fortress came up.
2. "Watch out for water" — Middle 30F: the Sunken Temple of Spirits came up.
3. "Wait twenty minutes before you go in" — the party he'd lined up turned out to be Tower Butchers. Gone in as planned, he'd have been one hundred percent dead.
4. "Go with a gatherer" — why a gatherer? Turns out it was an insane call. Middle floor, and the Forest of Spirit Beasts came up. Word is they farmed a stupid amount of high-grade and top-grade potion ingredients in there. Dark Elves poured out too, but there happened to be an Alchemist in the party who brewed potions on the spot, and they wiped them all out.
5. "Rest for a day, then go at dawn the day after tomorrow" — this one hasn't gone in yet. Was told to pack a flame cloak. Accuracy: pending. But it'll probably check out, right?
Anyway—two days' worth of track record.
Pretty safe to call it a hundred percent hit rate.
He takes three readings a day, first come first served with number tickets, and they're already past number thirty.
Run, don't walk, before it's too late.
Wooseok doubted his own eyes. What was this supposed to mean?
A fortune-telling that could tell you what the Tower was going to spawn?
Was that even possible?
And yet the testimonials were already piling up.
Would it work for... Hell difficulty too?
Something deep in his chest suddenly roared back to life.
Why not go and see...?
He wanted to go to the Tower. He wanted to climb it.
Whether the post was true or false didn't matter. Somehow, his heart was pounding.
Right. I have to climb the Tower again.
It didn't have to be Hell difficulty. There might still be things he was capable of. He could help the people who couldn't climb the Upper Towers.
And someday, when his heart was ready, he could challenge Hell again.
The ember left smoldering deep in his chest began, little by little, to catch.
Wooseok grabbed his coat.
Bonghyuk dragged himself out of bed and washed up. He'd watched Neotube until the small hours and slept in as a result.
Not that it mattered. Commuting to the Tower was genuinely no trouble at all. There was no packed subway to suffer through, and it didn't take long, either.
Rub your eyes, wash your face, swallow a spoonful of cereal, shout "Enter"—and that was that.
This month's loan payment had been cleared, and his heart couldn't have felt lighter.
Best of all, he wasn't the one gambling his life inside the Tower. Apparently one of the people he'd read fortunes for yesterday had cleared their climb, because experience points and coins had come rolling in overnight.
His Divination level had gone up, too.
Divination (Lv.2) → Divination (Lv.3)
Skill effect: your readings are now even clearer.
Maybe because he was still in the low levels, the thing shot up nice and fast. And his three readings a day had become four. A strange condition came attached, though.
Class:Mudang (Shaman)
Level:2
Class Skills: Divination, ???, ???, ???...
· 4 readings per day
· Target (3): Those who worship (first come, first served)
· Target (1): One who executes (designated)
Combat Skills: None
One who executes? He had no idea what that meant, so he searched it: bong, meaning "to serve, to attend upon," and haeng, meaning "to carry out."
To serve, and carry out.
Serve what, though? And this one wasn't first come, first served—it was designated.
Hm. I'll find out when I get there, I suppose.
Well then—another day at the office? Bonghyuk threw on his clothes and called out, "Enter."
The sight that greeted him inside the Tower: a line far longer than yesterday's.
Once again, the merchant Kim Jian had apparently clocked in early and whipped the crowd into order. Why was she so dedicated, anyway?
Jian spotted Bonghyuk and waved him over.
"There you are! I was just handing out number tickets and telling everyone to wait their turn."
Then she held out a shopping bag.
"Here—put this on."
"What is it?"
Bonghyuk took it, head tilting.
"Clothes. Clothes."
"Clothes? What for?"
Jian gave him a once-over, top to bottom.
"You're casting fortunes in front of a crowd. It'd be nice if you looked presentable while you did it, no?"
Was his outfit a problem? Come to think of it, he did look awfully shabby.
"Ah. That hadn't even occurred to me."
He unfolded what Jian had handed over, item by item—perfectly respectable cotton pants and a sweatshirt. He ducked away to change, and when he came back, Jian smiled in satisfaction.
"There. Now you actually look decent. Don't let that handsome face go to waste."
And she could lay on the flattery, too.
"Thank you."
"Alright then, fighting-fighting~ as always, my business partner!"
"Yes, yes. Fighting."
Clearly, Jian of the Merchant class had decided to latch onto Bonghyuk and never let go. Her business instincts were anything but ordinary.
He was just about to take his seat and begin the readings when—
"Bongmudang! A pleasure to meet you—!"
"Aigoo, you startled me."
Eleven, twelve years old, maybe? A bright-eyed kid folded himself in half at a crisp ninety degrees.
"I'm Lee Doyeon, Streamer class! My handle is Two-it—short for TwoEolSokaIt!"
A Streamer. A class with the skill to broadcast what happened inside the Tower to the world outside. Almost no combat ability to speak of—and yet, surprisingly, there was demand for it.
It all came down to fame.
Awakeners were influencers, whether they liked it or not. Get famous, and the ad deals attached themselves; the sponsorships came pouring down.
Better yet, high-level Streamers had a trait that kept them from eating up a party slot, so bringing one along was zero burden.
"I've got five thousand subscribers, and my live streams pull in about a hundred viewers, steady!"
Bonghyuk tilted his head.
"And?"
"I was hoping I could stream your readings, Bongmudang. If you'll allow it, I'd go into the Tower too and stream whether your readings come true. Oh—don't get the wrong idea! I'm not doubting your readings or anything. It's just that there might be people who don't believe yet, so I want to prove it for them. Just think of it as a collab proposal!"
Must be the streamer in him. The kid talked a lot.
"Out of nowhere?"
"Yes!"
"Why me?"
"Because it's a win-win! I get famous, and you get famous!"
Bonghyuk scratched his cheek.
"Kid. I'm pretty sure I'm getting famous with or without you..."
His readings did seem to hit suspiciously often.
Doyeon's eyes sparkled even wider.
"Exactly! Of course! Even I know that much! Which is why I want to split my streaming revenue with you, eight to two."
"You want me to take twenty percent? Why would I even—"
"You get the eight!"
"Huh?"
Streaming revenue grew exponentially the more subscribers a streamer had. And this kid was offering him eighty percent of it?
"Yes. I'm offering you eighty percent. And I have to get famous!"
"?"
"It's... my mom. She's sick. I need to earn her hospital bills, but of all the classes, I had to go and awaken as a Streamer... I'm too young for anyone to hire me, and..."
A hiccuping sob. An emotional attack, landing out of nowhere.
Bonghyuk studied the kid. Let's see, now. Bad news? No. A sweet, endearing little brat.
Was there any reason to say no? Not really. The kid was offering him eighty percent.
"Deal. In exchange, you keep every last won of the streaming income for now. Once you hit thirty thousand subscribers, we split it then."
This, from a man sitting on a debt pile big enough to bury his own nose. And yet Bonghyuk somehow couldn't help himself.
The brat had offered up the bigger share in the first place, which was oddly endearing. And with a sick mother—what kind of person could have refused?
Bonghyuk's own parents had scraped by running a restaurant to raise a single child. He understood that feeling all too well.
At Bonghyuk's counteroffer, tears welled up in Doyeon's eyes.
"Ah—n-no! No! It's really fine! At least in the collab, just out of basic decency—"
"It's fine."
Bonghyuk waved him off.
"We starting now?"
"Oh! Yes, yes!"
"Give it your best."
At that, Doyeon hoisted his phone gimbal and set up shop. Having his fortune filmed felt strange, somehow. In any case, Bonghyuk took his seat.
The man at the head of the line stepped forward. Except he had a girl with him. A middle schooler—or maybe a first-year of high school.
"Good day to you, Bongmudang."
The man nudged her forward, and the girl shuffled into the seat beside him.
"This is Suryeon. She's my niece."
"Hello... I'm Shin Suryeon."
The girl called Suryeon bowed politely to Bonghyuk.
"The reading isn't for me. My niece here says there's something she wants to ask."
When Bonghyuk turned to Suryeon, her face suddenly went taut with desperate hope.
"U-um. Mudang, sir! Please find my dad!" she blurted out.
"Huh?"
"My dad. It's been two days since he entered an Upper Tower, and he hasn't come back out. It was his final challenge, so he can't even escape..."
Suryeon's voice wavered. Bonghyuk said,
"Suryeon, was it?"
"Yes."
"Full honorifics, please."
"Huh? Y-yes!"
Suryeon knelt down, proper and formal.
"Please. I'm begging you."
And then—whoosh! Light surged up.
Shin Suryeon. First year of high school. C-rank Awakener. Class: Cook.
Her father, Shin Hoyeon. A-rank Awakener. Psychokinetic.
There was no mother; father and daughter lived alone, just the two of them. For years her dad had gone into the Tower to earn their living, and raised Suryeon on what he brought back.
"I'll be back, Suryeon."
That day, too, he ruffled her hair, tucked the lunchbox she'd packed under his arm, and set off for the Tower.
"It's only Floor 2. No need to worry."
Shin Hoyeon, smiling bright as noon.
The vision shifted.
Shin Hoyeon, hesitating before the gate. His final challenge—should he hold back, just this once? No. He steadied himself, made himself believe he could do it, and stepped inside.
Upper 2F.
The vision turned over again.
An ashen space like a ruined temple. From every crack in the walls, black beasts with glinting fangs came crawling without end. Shin Hoyeon barely carved a path through and hid in the shadow of a narrow corridor, breath caught at his throat.
Of all places—a floor where stamina mattered most. A psychokinetic wore out fast.
Fight, and flee. Fight, and flee. On and on.
And yet, one mercy—
"He's still alive."
Bonghyuk had spoken quietly.
"What!?"
"Shin Hoyeon. Psychokinetic. A-rank Awakener. Yes? He's trapped on Upper 2F. And he's still alive."
Suryeon's eyes went perfectly round.
"Really? He's really alive? Can he come out?"
Bonghyuk shook his head. Because there, at the vision's end, he could see it: Shin Hoyeon, strength spent at last, ringed in on every side by the black beasts.
"It won't be easy."
"What? Please. Please save my dad." Her voice broke on a sob.
From behind her came a sympathetic click of the tongue.
"Aigoo. Once someone's gone into the Tower, how are you supposed to get them out..."
A fair point. A Tower someone had entered became a parallel world, severed completely in both time and space. No one else could set foot inside it.
And yet. Something was strange. Bonghyuk's eyes narrowed to slits.
From the body of the father fighting for his life inside the Tower, a single gossamer thread was spilling out. And the place that thread touched was Suryeon's finger.
In that instant, Bonghyuk saw it: a split-second seam, opening onto that very space.
Suryeon jumped.
"What? Upper 2F—me, personally?"
"That's right. If it isn't you, that door doesn't open."
He didn't know why, but that thread clearly meant something. The girl's face crumpled.
"But I'm C-rank... I've never even attempted an Upper Tower, let alone... how am I supposed to..."
The Upper floors. It wasn't as if she couldn't go—apart from Hell, the choice of Upper, Middle, or Lower difficulty belonged to the climber. But even if she went in, she couldn't clear it alone. Someone would have to carry her through.
What climbers called getting "bussed." And a bus driver's price was monstrous. Tens of millions of won at the very least. Could this kid ever scrape that kind of money together?
What was more, once you chose your entry difficulty, your very first climb had to pass through Floor 1.
After that, she could bring anyone she liked. But factor in the three-and-a-half-day cooldown between attempts? Floor 1 had to be cleared today or tomorrow, no two ways about it.
Bonghyuk closed his eyes. Was there nothing else that would surface?
Murmurs drifted in from the onlookers. "Aigoo, the poor thing." "What can anyone do."
Then—
Bonghyuk opened his eyes. And turning his head smoothly to the left, he said, in a voice barely above a murmur:
"?????"
A name out of nowhere. The entire lobby sucked in its breath at once.
"Jeong Wooseok?"
"No way... the SSS-rank Jeong Wooseok?"
Where Bonghyuk's gaze had landed. The crowd followed his line of sight, and their eyes flooded with disbelief. A man had been there all along, hands tucked in his pockets, watching the scene unfold.
"Holy crap—it really is Jeong Wooseok!"
"Th-the SSS-rank Jeong Wooseok?"
"Whoa, first time seeing him in the flesh. Unreal."
Through the commotion, Wooseok said nothing, eyes fixed on Bonghyuk. Bonghyuk said:
"You take her with you. Upper 1F, Upper 2F—together."
Only then did Bonghyuk understand what bonghaeng meant. The one who executes. In other words—the one who takes up the gods' will and carries it out.
Bonghyuk grinned.
"Take her and bring her father home. In return—Hell, Floor 7. I'll divine what's waiting for you there."
Wooseok's eyebrow twitched.
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