Day 35: Infinite Hell
After parting ways with Kang Tae-shin, Cheon Seo-ah wandered aimlessly until she tilted her head in mild curiosity.
“Where am I this time?”
She had arrived somewhere that, while still Seoul, carried a strangely damp and oppressive air. Looking around, all she saw were low-rent thugs or villains who worked overtime advertising just how dangerous they supposedly were.
In comics and web novels, places like this were usually labeled back alleys—or exclusive villain turf.
“I suppose this is one of those places.”
The odds were high. And so, while Seo-ah continued drifting through what looked every bit the classic “back alley,” it happened.
Five thugs slid into her path.
They eyed the innocent-looking girl and twisted their faces into greasy smiles. At their appearance, Seo-ah’s brow furrowed.
“Even for me, this kind of classic cliché is a bit much.”
It was so classic it had fossilized; no one used this setup anymore. Yet the thugs, clearly delighted with themselves, kept smirking as they thrust knives toward her.
Or rather, they tried.
“Compress.”
Crunch!
Before the thugs could even open their mouths, space itself compressed—specifically around their legs. In an instant the five of them lost both lower limbs, screaming as they tumbled across the pavement.
“You know that the part where you appear and save me is also a painfully classic cliché, right?”
“Haha—”
An awkward laugh rang out from empty air, and a man stepped into view. Broad, heavily muscled, his body mapped with medals of old scars, he looked faintly embarrassed as he spoke.
“Well, damn. I thought you were just some lost young lady who wandered down the wrong street. Turns out you’re one of us.”
One of us.
Seo-ah rolled the word around in her mind. Given the thick stench of blood rolling off the man, “one of us” almost certainly meant “villain.” The chance he was a hero sat at roughly zero. And the reason he had decided she was a peer was probably the casual way she had compressed those thugs’ legs into paste.
“Anyway, what are you doing loitering around here?”
…
Seo-ah simply stayed silent. Honestly, the man had been right the first time—she really had gotten lost and been wandering. The thugs and his attempted rescue had been unexpected extras.
She was about to say as much when the man cut in again.
“Ah, I get it. You’re a ‘participant’ too, aren’t you? Makes sense a monster like you would be prowling around here.”
Participant?
What was that supposed to mean? The thought barely formed before Seo-ah nodded. Something about the word promised an interesting situation, and she never ignored those.
“Figures. I had a feeling. So why are you still out here?”
“I got lost.”
“Huh…?”
The man stared as if she had grown a second head. Wait—so she really had just been wandering around lost? And if she was a participant, she should have had a guide.
“Where’s your guide?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What a complete mess of an operation.”
He muttered something under his breath, then nodded as though he had convinced himself.
“Fine. Come with me. I’m a participant too.”
“Then I would be grateful.”
Seo-ah answered with a small smile. The man laughed and started walking.
The place he led her to was a ruined building. From the outside it looked abandoned for at least a decade, but the interior told a different story. The first floor had been fitted out like a pub: people milling about or settled into seats, drinking and talking. Their clothes, however, looked expensive, and every face and aura screamed that these people never saw sunlight.
“Packed as always.”
“Who are all these people?”
“Huh? You’re a participant and you don’t know?”
“Today is my first time. No one explained anything.”
“Is that even possible…?”
The man tilted his head, then shrugged. Villains never did anything properly anyway.
“They’re basically spectators. They come to watch ‘participants’ like us.”
“Spectators, I see.”
“Right. Though you could just call them gamblers. They put money on our wins and losses.”
Participants. Spectators. Wins, losses, and money.
Seo-ah fitted the pieces together and understood exactly where she was. This was an underground UFC of the shadows. Compared to the real thing it was pure lawlessness, which was precisely why the crowds came. Humans who disliked watching blood and flesh fly while people tried to murder each other were, frankly, rare.
And that made the clientele crystal clear. The man had dismissed them as mere gamblers, but the people gathered here really were the dregs—day-laborers who burned every last coin on this kind of blood sport. The true heavyweights—corporate chairmen, gang bosses—enjoyed the matches through their own private channels.
In short, the audience split into two tiers.
While Seo-ah watched the “spectators” with mild interest, the man spoke again.
“Let’s go. It’s almost starting time. We need to get ready.”
“Ah, I’m fine.”
“Huh?”
He blinked at her. Seo-ah met his eyes and smiled.
“Thank you for showing me such an interesting place.”
For a brief moment the man’s gaze went slack, then snapped back into focus.
“Wait—when did I get all the way over here?”
Seo-ah had already vanished without a trace. The man stood there, baffled, with no idea why he had come.
Having erased every memory of herself from his mind, Seo-ah arrived on the third floor.
“Hello. I’d like to register as a fighter.”
Matches here came in two types. The first featured proven fighters brought in by special invitation—the man who had guided her belonged to that group. The other accepted walk-ins on the spot. Those fights could unearth hidden powerhouses, the proverbial pearls in the mud, even if most of the audience preferred the headliners.
The young man manning the desk stared at her as if she had lost her mind. She looked late teens at best—no, mid-teens if he was generous. How had this kid even found the place? Did she understand what registering as a fighter meant? Maybe she was some spectator’s daughter treating it like a game.
He forced a gentle smile.
“I’m sorry, but registration has already closed.”
If he accepted her and she got hurt in the ring, he was a dead man. A single spectator’s importance dwarfed a low-level staffer like him.
Seo-ah tilted her head.
“That’s strange. There’s still time left on the clock.”
The young man flinched, yet his eyes burned with the determination not to take her application no matter what.
I don’t want to die yet.
Seo-ah smiled at that resolve.
“It’s true that humans should value their own lives above all else. However…”
I value my own entertainment above all else.
A dark light flickered in her eyes. The young man’s gaze went vacant.
“You’ll accept my registration, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
He nodded limply.
“Thank you. My name is Cheon Seo-ah.”
“Cheon… Seo-ah. Registration… complete.”
He tapped a few times on the tablet in his hands. The moment clarity returned to his eyes, Seo-ah smiled again.
“Thank you.”
She turned and walked away. The young man watched her back for a second—then screamed.
“Aaaaaaagh—!”
The tablet clearly displayed that Cheon Seo-ah’s registration had been accepted.
Meanwhile, the man responsible for this particular round of Infinite Hell—the underground deathmatch where villains gathered to slaughter one another—stared at the newly registered name and went white.
“Wh-what—!”
Could it actually be that Cheon Seo-ah?
No. Impossible. That made no sense.
But if it really was the young lady…
“If it’s actually the young lady…?”
If the young lady herself had entered his Infinite Hell not as a spectator but as a fighter…
“Fuck. I’m screwed.”
His whole body shook. If she took even the tiniest scratch, the life waiting for him would be a hell he could never escape by dying.
He moved at once. Better to take the beating early.
“I… I have to report this.”
Trying to bury the fact out of fear and then getting caught would only lower his odds of survival. Coming clean first at least gave him a sliver of a chance.
Hands trembling, he contacted someone.