Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Hero Discards Reality
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The dust had settled in a pale layer, giving the room a drab, gray filter, but the space unfolding before my eyes was unmistakably my real bedroom.
The 3-million-won mattress I'd splurged on after rave reviews, the side dish plate still sitting there with sauce crusted on it because I never bothered to clean up after eating, clothes tossed carelessly on the floor despite how much I'd paid for some of them.
It finally hit me that I'd returned to the exact same room I'd been in before getting dragged into the dungeon. A chill ran down my spine.
"What day is it now..."
I turned on my phone, which was lying on the bed, but the battery was dead. Plugging it into the charger and pressing the power button brought the familiar boot melody, lock screen pattern, and wallpaper from my trip photos glowing to life, welcoming me back.
July 31, 2025.
I'd seen the Dungeon Gallery Pack download link in that concept post on the 18th, so... one... two...
I hadn't checked a calendar in ages, so my sense of dates felt all off. I hoped I hadn't messed up my day-night cycle and wouldn't suffer for it.
"Exactly two weeks... that crazy... irresponsible bastard...!"
Normally, if you're forcing someone into conscription, shouldn't the common sense be to freeze real-world time?
No, even in reality, there are places that drag you off for military service and don't pause your life for a year and a half. I decided to just accept it.
"Whoa..."
But more than that, the mountain of missed calls, texts, and KakaoTalk messages was downright terrifying. I scratched the back of my head out of habit.
To be precise, one call in particular stood out amid the disgusting pile, filling me with dread.
July 25, 2025
Department Professor (3) 12:00 PM
Missed Call
"...I should take a leave of absence."
I was screwed.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I stripped off the rags that were no longer usable, washed my grimy body, and decided to start a deep clean.
I wanted to collapse into bed and pass out, but I wasn't keen on inhaling all that old dust and ending up with asthma.
In my opinion, that sewer down there was better for protecting my lungs. Or not.
Shwaaa—
Standing under the warm water pouring from the showerhead, the tension in my muscles melted away, making the past two weeks feel like a dream.
I wiped the steam-fogged mirror with my hand.
A squeak sounded as the surface cleared, only for water droplets to bead up again, my reflection blurring like an afterimage.
The large scabbed wound on my shoulder, the scar on my thigh, and all the smaller cuts and gashes.
Each one dragged my feelings from fantasy back to harsh reality, proving everything I'd been through was real.
A nonstop chain of bloody slaughter that made my flesh crawl.
No moment of rest against beasts with yellowed, massive fangs lunging for my throat.
Any normal person would've ended up a wreck.
'But why am I totally fine with it?'
The thing called emotions, or state of mind, or heart—it was as calm as a windless sea.
The strongest thought bubbling up was just, If I can't find that healing spring, how do I deal with these scars? Cover them with tattoos?
"Was I always this stone-hearted?"
112.311. Was this another one of that guy's cute little pranks on my body?
He said he'd explain, but he never taught me jack. I felt like just kicking his ass, but in the end, I'd be the one hurting—or dying.
It was one hell of an unfair deal.
Not even a proper contract to begin with.
I stepped out of the bathroom, dried my fluffy-clean body, and flung open the window for some ventilation. The fresh city air mixed with fine dust and exhaust fumes felt oddly welcoming.
And so the deep clean began.
The one thing I'd overlooked was that it was a sweltering summer day where just standing around made you sweat buckets, so I ended up drenched again.
Finally, after finishing the cleanup and showering once more, I could tackle my backlog one by one.
"Yeah. Minwoo, since you called. Uh. Yeah."
"Yes, sunbae. This is Yu-hyun speaking. Ah, yes. Due to circumstances..."
"Ah! Professor! Have you eaten?"
………
……
…
A grueling three-hour relay of calls. Everyone started with the same "Where the hell have you been—no contact at all?" sucking the life out of me until I felt like a mummy.
I bullshitted some excuse about vanishing, then said I'd be off-grid for a while on a soul-searching wilderness trek. The response was that subtle silence laced with pity you give someone whose head isn't screwed on right. It stung.
You bastard User. I'll make you pay dearly.
"Haa..."
I flopped back against the chair's backrest, eliciting a creak from the momentum as my vision spun lazily.
If that guy's words were true, I had one week left.
Checking the calendar, it'd probably mean getting dragged back into the Dive Dungeon world on August 7th.
'He didn't just give me a week to goof off.'
Resting up and staying in top condition was crucial.
Still, blowing through a week doing nothing didn't seem smart, even after 0.3 seconds of thought.
My gaze drifted slowly to the pile of busted armor shoved in the corner—tricky to dispose of—and the backpack stuffed with the onaholes I'd been carrying around.
Thinking about it, since stuff from there came with me to reality, maybe taking stuff from reality would carry over when summoned back?
It was a very plausible hunch, and great news for me. I'd lost most gear and consumables killing the Sewer King, so resupply was desperate.
But no way reality had healing potions or Flame Storm scrolls—options were limited.
Even so, knowing the zone starting from Floor 6 and what'd aid survival meant proper prep could meaningfully lower the difficulty!
'Dungeon essentials first.'
Storage space. Bigger storage. Fucking huge storage.
Descending dungeons always meant capacity crunch forcing tough choices.
Grabbing only immediate needs could leave you without a crucial item later, dying in one hit—that's a dungeon for you.
"A big backpack and..."
Antibiotics or a first-aid kit would help big time, even for me with regen that heals major wounds overnight.
Blood clotted fast and wounds closed quick, but that didn't ward off disease or parasites.
Click-clack—
I grabbed a black ballpoint pen rolling on the desk and started jotting needs in my notebook.
Five minutes later, it was crammed full, plunging me back into dilemma.
"Gotta pack onaholes too... Weapons in holsters, but with gear breaking constantly, need spares... Problem..."
Even just the five-minute list wouldn't fit in my house's biggest backpack.
I'd only written the real necessities, too...
I slashed lines through lower-priority items.
Whiskey, vodka, brandy for mental health eroded in the dungeon.
Rubber duck for bath time, portable game console for lonely nights, glow-in-the-dark dinosaur—dunno what for, but felt necessary.
I stared at the strikethroughs and went quiet for a sec.
"Hmm... Am I just exhausted?"
Sleep first.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The first thing I did upon waking was sort and trim yesterday's packing list.
Bug spray, antibiotics, dewormer, stab-proof vest, lighter, oil, flashlight, knife, etc...
Way more practical than yesterday's list, at least.
Seeing "Pororo computer" at the end made me realize yesterday wasn't normal—I'd been so wrecked my brain was numb.
"Now just order what's missing."
How much cash left?
If short, sell a watch to a friend. I muttered it out of habit without thinking.
"Status."
I chuckled after saying it aloud, realizing I wasn't fully awake.
Back in reality, not the labyrinth— no status window popping up here.
Dungeon life had gotten way too routine—
Sharak—
⚔ STATUS ⚔ Name: aaaa Level: 09 ❤️ Health: 96/96 ✨ Magic: 48/48 🍽️ Hunger: 107/110 💧 Thirst: 105/110 🌡️ Temperature: ◁■■■■■□□□□□▶ ⚡ Strength: 11(+1) 💨 Agility: 15(+0) 🛡️ Constitution: 08(+1) 🧠 Mind: 08(+0) 👁️ Sense: 09(+1) 💖 Charm: 15(+2) 《Held Skills》 『Thief's Luck』 『Demonic Charm』 『Battle Command』 『』 『Hero I』 《Held Magic》 『Onahole Creation』 Magic -25 "...Why is this showing up?"
I couldn't hide my bewilderment at the familiar rows of text materializing before my eyes.
If a status window—something impossible in reality—was working here, didn't that mean magic and magical items would work too?
I slid across the floor on my knees in a scramble, yanked open the backpack's front pouch, and pulled out the onaholes.
The squishy slime.
Severa, sublimating like dry ice into the air.
The Wanderer, most human-like of the bunch.
I called out to the onaholes.
"Is this your homeland...? Architecture and stuff I've never seen... What the hell am I even looking at?"
Severa spawned, stared at my room and the city outside in shock, and started mumbling nonstop.
Next to her, the Wanderer stood stock-still like it wouldn't move till ordered, while the slime bounced on the floor, knocked over the cup of cola I'd saved, and stole its owner's drink.
"This works..."
I'd half-doubted, but damn—could summon onaholes in reality for real.
'Stats apply here too, right?'
Even with base-ish stats, I'd held my own against veteran knight Albert. Later on, superhuman wouldn't be far off.
I gazed at the slime tinting itself cola-colored bit by bit and the Wanderer, lost in thought for a moment.
"Gotta wash you guys first."
It'd be a tough battle.
Severa, being a ghost needing no bath, could just watch. I shoved the Wanderer and slime into the bathroom.