Royal Jelly and the Baldness Blues
“Screeek!”
The Giant Soldier Ant activates War Cry.
Soldier Ants' attack power and defense increase by 20%.
Boss monsters were often solitary creatures, but not all of them fit that mold.
Just as there were player classes like tamers and necromancers who commanded minions, the boss on the 15th floor—the Giant Soldier Ant—ruled over its slaves.
“A battle of summons? We won't lose. Charge!”
“Kyukyukyu!”
Tina and Mukhyang bravely plunged into the swarm of ants.
There were at least two hundred of them, at minimum, but their assault showed no hesitation whatsoever.
“Kyukyaaa!”
Mukhyang unleashed a breath attack from its mouth, sending the soldier ants into panicked chaos.
These bug-type monsters, dwellers of the dim underground, were utterly vulnerable to fire attributes.
“Screeek?!”
The ants engulfed in flames screamed and rolled on the ground.
Soldier Ant exposed to weak attribute. Defense reduced by 50% for 1 second.
And Tina didn't miss that one-second window.
“Hah!”
She thrust her cavalry lance with pinpoint accuracy, skewering the soldier ants like kebabs. In the blink of an eye, four ants crumbled to ash and vanished.
“Screeek!”
The ants, enraged by their comrades' deaths, charged at Tina—but she wasn't having it.
“Not a chance!”
Mount skill activated.
Mount's movement greatly enhanced.
Catching Mukhyang under the Mount buff's effect wasn't easy.
Tina and Mukhyang darted through the ants, sowing chaos in their midst.
Foolish insects! Where do you think you're looking?!
Gillian swung his greatsword, launching ants into the air.
“Squeek?!”
The Giant Soldier Ant couldn't hide its shock—its minions were being overwhelmed far too easily.
And in that moment, Carpe activated Blue Dragon Step and closed in on the boss's underbelly.
He placed his hand on the ant's abdomen.
“Ma Sword Penetration Mirror!”
One of the top-ranked 8-star physical skills activates.
Target hit by Ma Sword Penetration Mirror.
Target's physical and magic defense reduced by 50%.
And it didn't stop there.
“Permafrost!”
Crackle!
A wave of ice erupted from Carpe, engulfing the boss and its slave monsters.
Bugs weren't weak only to fire.
Even a one-degree drop in temperature crippled their mobility, making ice skills another perfect counter—and Permafrost was the ultimate choice.
Carpe and his summons mercilessly crushed the ants.
How much time passed like that?
Thud!
You have defeated the Giant Soldier Ant.
“Whew. Not as tough as those twin frost giants.”
Good matchup. Bug-types aren't that hard once you crack their shells. With defense shred and weak attributes on our side, it was a breeze.
“But... the loot's kinda meh for a boss.”
All that remained where the boss had vanished was a single small potion vial.
◈ A sweet honey carried in tiny amounts by Giant Soldier Ants. Far sweeter and smoother than ordinary honey, it's coveted by gourmet foodies. Insect scholars have long puzzled over why soldier ants—not honey pot ants—carry royal jelly, food meant for the queen.
“...Royal jelly? Out of left field. What is it, a bee now?”
Game lore, just roll with it. The point isn't the lore—it's that this stuff's expensive.
“Huh? Expensive?”
One of the priciest crafting materials out there. Barely any drop sources, but demand's through the roof.
“Really? Huh, now that you mention it, not so surprising.”
Carpe was all about cheap, plentiful grub with decent flavor. But not everyone was like that.
Some could discern the subtlest taste differences and savored them.
Gourmets known as “foodies” would drop serious cash for delicacies.
“Heard rumors that RaSe is popular among foodies.”
Fantasy world's exotic eats, only in RaSe!
The game replicated real-world taste buds perfectly, drawing plenty of culinary enthusiasts.
But Cheonma shook his head at Carpe's words.
Nah, it's great as food, but that's not why it's pricey.
“Then what?”
Elixir material.
“Elixir?!”
Carpe perked up.
Food? Meh. But elixirs? Stat boosts were always welcome—the more, the better.
“What kind? Like elixir of power, pumping up stats?”
Not combat-focused. More like a remedy than an elixir. Take off your robe hood.
“Huh? Hood?”
Random as hell, but Carpe obliged, flipping back his hood.
Cheonma leaned in, inspecting Carpe's scalp.
Doesn't look like you need it. But don't get cocky—could sneak up on you.
“...What're you talking about?”
Elixirs to hair check? What?
But Cheonma's next words left Carpe doubting his ears.
It's a hair loss cure. And not just any—way better than real-world stuff.
“...Hair loss? The hair loss?”
Yep. So effective, you see new growth in an hour. Now that's magic.
“No, that's weird.”
Carpe was beyond baffled—this had to be a joke.
I mean...
“Why care about baldness in a game?”
RaSe avatars scanned from real bodies.
Real baldness could mean in-game baldness, sure—but...
“Just fix it with custom items.”
Hairstyles were pure cosmetic.
1,000 won at the cash shop for any style. Standard in most RPGs—hair as cash item.
Fancy details cost more, but still cheaper than a real salon.
Bottom line: 1,000 won solved baldness worries forever.
“People even rock bald barbarian concepts. Hair loss? Pfft... Oh, NPC quests?”
That'd make sense.
For NPCs, RaSewas reality.
Some rich bald lord might pay top gold for a cure.
“If that's it, I get— ”
Nope. Sure, NPC quests exist, but players buy more.
“...You're killing me. Why shell out for that?!”
It's a game! Not real life!
Cheonma averted his gaze at Carpe's logical retort.
Well... RaSe ties in real physical stats, right?
Sure, minor impact.
Otherwise, rankers would all be real medalists or fighters.
Luck and game sense mattered most; fitness was secondary.
But influence existed. US colleges even published papers on it.
And fighting in-game sharpens real reflexes.
“...I see where you're going. Let me hear the end.”
Same logic: in-game hair meds affect real hair. Something like that...
“You know that's nonsense, right?”
Hey... Full-dive games like RaSe link to the brain. Stimulation hits follicles or whatever...
“Bull. Reflexes improve from dodging on-screen stuff. By that logic, in-game meals fill you up IRL?”
...
Cheonma clammed up at the sane rebuttal. Carpe tsked.
Roles reversed from usual.
“Disappointing. You mocked my feng shui and gacha luck spots like I was nuts, but you buy this pseudoscience? Wait— ”
Carpe's eyes widened in realization.
“You going bald? Doesn't show...”
...
“They say it creeps up slow. Wow. Desperation kills reason. Where's the cold logic guy? The original Cheonma'd bust from his coffin laughing.”
Shut up! I know it's bullshit!
Cheonma's voice cracked like a sob.
You feng shui freaks wouldn't get it. Grasping at straws... That despair when hair falls out washing...
“...Hang in there. I was callous. Sorry. Must be a big deal for you.”
I wasn't worried at your age. Heh. Your turn soon. Soon!
“No curses, man...”
Ghost perks: no hair loss worries.
“Stop! You're making me tear up!”
Humanity's long history advanced science and medicine endlessly, yet one frontier remained unconquered.
20XX. September.
Mankind had not overcome baldness.
“So, how deep is this underground?”
50 floors. Hidden areas add a few, but bottom's 50.
“Hm. Not Magic Tower deep, but solid.”
Twisting tunnels made it feel deeper.
“What's at the bottom?”
A door. Unlike Magic Tower's self-contained dungeon, Ant Hell's just a long passage.
Strictly, not a dungeon.
Just a 50-floor-deep tunnel.
At the very bottom: an entrance to a new world.
Leads to the Spirit Realm. Ant Hell's a buffer zone to keep folks out.
Hence, spirit traces everywhere.
Carpe's fourth relic engine tied to spirits.
Top-grade fire spirit core. Hidden spot off 20th floor. That's our goal.
“Gotta fight a top-grade spirit? Those are beasts.”
Nah. Would've been impossible. Just a storage spot. Guardian's there, but no top-grade. With your crew...
“With my crew?”
10% win rate? Full summons deployed.
“...Tough.”
Spirit core guardian, huh.
Carpe heightened his tension, advancing slowly through the dungeon.