The Whereabouts of the Armband

Taxes exist everywhere in the world. The Backrooms 50th Floor Central City was no exception. Taxes were levied here too. But in Central City, they were imposed differently across each district. Divided mainly into four areas: the Inner Citadel District, Central District, Outer Citadel District, and the Underground Tunnels.

The Inner Citadel District bore the highest tax rates but enjoyed purified water, magical hospitals, ironclad security, and flawless public services in return. Beyond that, the Central District buzzed with artisans and merchants paying moderate taxes, though it suffered from crime and congestion due to its dense population. The Outer Citadel District, with its lower taxes, was largely neglected. Even when Backrooms-specific spawning phenomena or bizarre weather disasters struck, there was no security or infrastructure to do anything about it. And finally, the Underground Tunnels. Practically tax-exempt, this place was a network of abandoned sewers and underground warehouses where no light reached. A hopeless gathering of those who had lost all ability to pay taxes. Beneath damp stone walls, mold, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi, people lived not as city residents, but as discarded beings.

It seemed fair on the surface. A system where the poorer you were, the less tax you paid—a cloak of justice. But beneath it lay a merciless mechanism that ultimately drove ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the poor to the outskirts and underground.

Yet the true tragedy of this city wasn't just the tax system. As long as men and women existed, life was born here too. Anchored. The Backrooms' laws prevented anyone from aging, but those born here as lifeforms were called Anchored and underwent growth. However, that growth had an absolute limit. The Backrooms' laws stamped existence itself not with a [Growth Plate], but a [Fixed Plate]. The time before synchronization [began] was the Anchored's only growth period, and once fixation occurred, they grew no more. Body and intellect were sealed as-is, determining their 'fate.' Those with sturdy physiques and talent were called Blessed and qualified for the upper districts. Conversely, those inferior in both intellect and body were branded Cursed and funneled straight to the lower districts. Especially those fixed with childlike bodies or disabilities were called 'dummies' and faced blatant discrimination. They were inefficient in both combat and labor, lacking even the qualifications to rise to the upper layers. The same went for those who no-clipped into the Backrooms at a young age. Even eating just a few orbs blocked their path to the upper layers due to growth limits.

"Sis. Have a safe trip."

"Yeah."

Polluted Villain's commute to work was long. Her workplace in the outskirts was the complete opposite of the Underground Tunnels. She had to pass through the Central District and Outer Citadel District without fail. To avoid pointless trouble, she kept her eyes on the ground as she walked.

Please let my synchronization rate rise slowly today.

Sniffling and walking briskly, she soon arrived at the 50th Floor outskirts labor camp. Selen checked in with the supervisor and headed to her assigned area. There were already early birds there.

"The dummy bitch is here."

"Fucking slowpoke. Look at her taking it easy."

"Must be nice having something to eat."

Veteran coworkers who had started this job before Selen. They were the type who despised 'dummies.'

"...Uh. H-hello..."

Selen bowed deeply, gauging their mood, then slunk to a corner. She opened her status window and Gallery while starting her bio-filter work: breathing diligently.

Huuuuh—.

After breathing steadily for a while, she overheard the veterans' conversation.

"Heard the labor camp owner changed."

"To who?"

"Dunno. Some young woman, apparently."

"I saw her. Total nutjob."

"Talks like a fucking grandma. Weirder name too. Kim Chunbok? What kind of woman's name is that shit."

"Anyway, too many weirdos flooding in from everywhere. Place is turning into a melting pot."

"That's why we have rules and discipline here."

"Punishments and executions, you mean."

Selen didn't care much who the labor camp owner was. She just wished her wages would go up even a little.

If my daily pay rose just 20 percent, I could start saving.

She browsed the Gallery while inhaling the polluted air. Then she snorted at something funny from Big Hand Floater. Apparently, that rubbed them the wrong way.

"Hey, you fucking bitch. You just badmouthed us in the Gallery, didn't you?"

At the veteran's accusation, Selen's eyes widened in shock.

"Uh-uh, no I didn't."

"Then why'd you laugh?"

"Just... the Gallery was funny..."

"Quit with that Gallery crap. Figures a dummy bitch would. Ugh."

Selen seethed inwardly but didn't show it.

You assholes use the Gallery too, fuckers.

The reason they picked on her was obvious. In this outskirts area, where deep sea pressure periodically invaded, the pressure wasn't uniform. Some spots had light incursions, others crushed your whole body. The veterans blatantly wanted to shove Selen into a high-pressure zone.

"You're on C-Zone."

"Uh-uh, but... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠C-Zone... The supervisor said here today..."

"Fucking bitch talking back."

"We'll handle the supervisor."

"Get lost already, bitch."

Unable to withstand their harassment, Selen headed to the even gloomier spot.

I won't last long here...

She grew depressed seeing her rising synchronization rate in her status window. But spotting her holdings cheered her up a bit: 150 gold. Half of the 300 gold from Kim Hogu was gone, but it had eased her breathing room.

Someday, I have to repay this favor.

As she quietly resolved this inwardly, her father Herald Scold's words suddenly came to mind.

Selen had dismissed it as nagging back then. But now... those words lingered in her heart. No, they were all that remained in her heart. Everything else had grown hazy...

Dad...

Her throat tightened. She missed him. Could they ever meet again?

...Probably not.

As Selen sighed deeply, she spotted a ragged elf across the way. Despite her pretty face, the elf woman was frantically picking up scraps of paper.

Selen sniffled as she watched her.

Why does that elf live like that?

This area near the 49th Floor entrance saw frequent deep sea pressure incursions, causing junk, scrap metal, and paper scraps to inexplicably appear in midair. Most were trash, but plenty scraped by collecting it.

...Scavenger.

Selen suddenly thought of one Gallery user.

...No way, right?

She felt a strange relief watching the ragged elf pick trash. At least her own deep sea resistance was high. The elf across from her and her sister Yeren both had low resistance. Jobs like Selen's bio-filter were only for the chosen few. Low-resistance folks couldn't even do this.

If only I could eat one white orb.

Her resistance would rise, letting her earn more. Idly checking the auction house, as expected, no white orbs in low or mid grades. High-grade ones existed, but at 8 million gold. Way too expensive. Pie in the sky for Selen.

Among the Backrooms layers exist reverse mirror layers. Not just flipped left-to-right scenery, but layers where the laws themselves invert. Floors 98 and 89 were such a pair. Day becomes night, light becomes shadow, stagnant water becomes portals between layers. That's why a lift cut from 98 to 89 was possible.

"Made it."

I stepped onto Floor 89 and looked at the sky. Unlike 98, it was pitch black night here.

Just like a mirror.

So while 98 was broad daylight, this was midnight.

"Environment's almost identical too."

I passed through the forest to the center. No Recallerers. Reached the center without resistance, and there was the jar, same as always.

Quick trip.

The differences from 98: it was full of blood, and near the jar lay an entity corpse shriveled like a dried red perch.

I recalled what Alchemy Rice Soup Eater had told me.

[Floor 89 is the reverse mirror of 98. Strategy is simple: do the opposite of 98.]

On 98, kill Recallerers, fill the jar with blood to summon the Gate Bound Azure Annihilation Gaze. Once it drinks all the blood, it opens the exit to the next floor—clear.

89 is the opposite. Dump or destroy all the Gate Bound blood in the jar, and the exit to the next floor opens automatically.

Good that the difficulty isn't high.

Before touching the blood-filled jar, I checked the Gate Bound corpse nearby first.

This the Life-Death Fish?

Thanks to eating lots of white orbs, I knew both the 98 Azure Annihilation Gaze and its opposite, the 89 Life-Death Fish.

Much smaller than the Azure one.

The Azure was a large dark ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blue fish overall; the Life-Death was a small red one.

Still, better grab it.

I stored the Life-Death Fish corpse in my subspace pouch, then pulled out a water bottle. Stuck it in the jar to collect some blood too.

Thought about just dumping it all... but decided to keep some just in case. You never know with life.

"Might come in handy someday."

After securing the Life-Death corpse and some jar blood, I tilted the jar and poured the blood onto the ground.

Gurgle gurgle.

As the blood soaked into the earth, light burst from the ground. It shot up like a pillar, forming a massive gate of light.

Really simple.

Before heading to 88, I snapped a proof shot and posted to the Gallery.

I took more photos, posted more to the Gallery, then stepped through the light gate to Floor 88.

"What happened today? Didn't last long."

Selen went to the supervisor after work.

"Well... I was in C-Zone today..."

"What? Why there today?"

C-Zone was usually purified at day's end. The supervisor reflexively asked, then realized and changed the subject.

"Can't pay extra. You know? Hourly."

"...Y-yeah, I know."

"Here's 75 gold."

Selen dragged her exhausted body back to the Underground Tunnels. Passing the Central District as usual, fanfare blared and cheers erupted.

"Woooah—!"

"43rd Floor Magic Tower vanguard returned!"

"They even caught a criminal this time!"

Selen glanced over idly and saw a group slowly entering, parting the crowd. Crimson, radiant markers floated above their heads: 1M, 10M, 100M, 1B, 10B...

Not mere letters or numbers. They were power, hierarchies built on blood, brutal proof earned only by survivors.

Million. Billion. Gallery markers based on combat power, crowns of rank bestowed by 50th Floor Central City.

The crowd cheered in unison. Voices high, eyes trembling; applause endless, fingertips ice-cold. Even children forced their scrawny arms to wave, merchants gritted teeth shouting. Stray dogs mimicked barks before tucking tails and slinking away. It was submission, not cheers. They claimed the biggest shares, took the deadliest missions, stood as untouchable upper class.

The red markers symbolized [Players], another sky looming over all else.

How much do those people earn?

As Selen wondered, a man in chains was dragged from their midst. Knees shattered, face bloodied, clearly guilty.

No marker above his head.

What crime did he commit...?

Curious, she stared—then locked eyes with a 10M man. Instinctively, she prostrated, forehead slamming the ground with a thud.

Bowing low, waiting for their footsteps to pass, a whisper from the crowd caught her ear.

"That chained guy's one of the Gallery Armband escapees to the 43rd Floor, huh."

At 'Gallery Armband,' Selen's ears perked.

"One of the Armbands? Padak? Or Judak?"

"Probably a Padak. Judak's too sly; no one's even guessing their spot."

"Fucking ballsy."

Curiosity piqued, Selen eavesdropped quietly.

"What's the charge?"

"Neglecting Armband duties. Officially... but probably slipped the Magic Tower's watch. Obvious."

"How'd they get caught? Gallery's anonymous."

"Random inspections lately. Hiding on 43, nabbed by ID check."

"Gallery doesn't work on 43, right?"

"That's the funny part. A markless nobody, no Player status, hiding there? Super suspicious."

"And this idiot had a Padak armband. Tsk tsk."

Central District's heart held the pillory squad. Stone pillars stretched skyward, scarred with frayed ropes and bloodstains. The Magic Tower executed criminals here—for spectacle, warning, terror. To exalt Player authority further.

The crowd eyed the man tied to the pillar with interest.

"Sword again?"

"Burning, maybe."

"Hanging."

The criminal-looking man yelled.

"You dog bastards! I'm innocent!"

His swollen face made him look truly wronged.

"Judak just slapped the hat on me for no reason! I never wanted Padak. I was just an innocent floater!"

The 10M man whipped him with a Padak.

"Shut up."

"It's true!"

"You're an insider. Not uninvolved."

The 10M kept whipping.

"Tell us Judak's location."

"I don't know! I don't!"

"Then punishment till you do."

The 10M man continued the whipping.

"Urk."

Selen watched as the man was beaten senseless, beheaded, then hanged before heading back to the Underground Tunnels.