SevenSeven Days Until Collapse

The day the American reconnaissance team was deployed, the TASH Director offered his hunter a few last words of encouragement.

The man assigned to the scout role was Kevin.

"Your mission is a heavy one. That said, don't push yourself."

"Of course. It's my life on the line."

"Haha. That's the right attitude."

Right before entry, the Director briefed him on the assignment one more time.

"The Chinese team that was wiped out numbered seven in total. Meaning they couldn't even last the seventy-second withdrawal grace period."

"That's terrifying."

"But you're going in alone, so you can withdraw immediately. The moment it feels dangerous, you get out."

"Yes, sir."

Hell, he could walk out after a single second and it would still be fine. Tomorrow he could go back in and last two seconds. The day after that, three.

What mattered was peeling back even a sliver of the 57th Floor's identity — a zone that was, as of now, a complete unknown.

"I'll skip the 'good luck.' Too cheesy. We'll be seeing each other again in a minute anyway, at the latest."

"Haha. I'll be right back."

Kevin entered the Tower.

The landscape that greeted him was not so different from the other floors in the fifties. And yet something about it felt wrong.

Why isn't there anything here?

Were all the enemies waiting at long range? Don't tell me the entire opposing force is made up of extreme-range snipers. Even this Tower wouldn't put together a composition that absurd.

I'll look around a little more first...

Shhk—

Kevin's vision spun. Alarm bells screamed through every nerve. He wrung his hunter's reflexes out to their absolute limit, and a split second seemed to stretch into something longer, as if time itself had snagged.

Dizziness? A mental attack? Some kind of sensory hallucination?

He couldn't identify what had hit him. The danger, though, was unmistakable.

Withdraw!

The scenery did not change. No — his vision kept spinning, and then it met the ground.

Did I collapse?

A pair of black boots appeared before his eyes.

Thud.

He rolled his gaze upward. Someone was looking down at him. A dark elf in a black mask.

That was as far as he got. Kevin's consciousness cut out.

The dark elf assassin — the Dark Emperor — gave Kevin's severed head a casual kick. It tumbled away across the dirt. Then he licked the blood from his dagger.

In that instant, a global announcement bloomed before the eyes of every hunter in the United States.

Do Hyeoncheol waited for his wife in the first-floor parking garage. It had been a long time since the two of them had gone on a proper date.

"Hmm..."

He passed between the Bentley and the Porsche, running a satisfied hand along each of them in turn.

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Foreign cars, received as gifts, with the taxes and insurance and every other maintenance cost covered.

You're a marvel, son. And a Bentley and a Porsche, no less.

Especially the Bentley. Whoever picked that one has excellent taste.

Any man of intellect, as a matter of principle, cannot dislike a Bentley. And this one was a heavy, substantial sedan — the perfect companion for a son steadily climbing toward higher stations.

Though they do stand out a bit much compared to the apartment...

The neighborhood ladies were going to gossip about them for sure.

As if on cue, two neighbors from the building drifted past. They stopped a little ways off and put their heads together.

"Huh? There are expensive cars in our parking garage I've never seen before. Two of them."

"Oh my, and they're the high-end models, even among Bentleys and Porsches."

"Look at you, knowing your cars. Outside vehicles aren't allowed to park here, though."

"Isn't that Mr. Do Hyeoncheol?"

"What? Are those Hyeoncheol's cars? I thought his family wasn't doing too well these days."

One of them clapped her hands.

"Ah! That's right, that's right!"

"What's right?"

"Hyeoncheol's son hit the jackpot!"

"He did?"

"Do you not even watch the news?"

Ahem. Do Hyeoncheol turned his back for no particular reason and gazed up at the sky. It really was an unusually beautiful sky today.

His ears, of course, stayed wide open.

"Whaaat!? Kang Minji and all the SS-ranks?"

"That's what I'm saying! The entire hunter industry in this country is in Hyeoncheol's father-and-son pocket now."

Ahem. Was the guild being a little too sloppy with information control? Random neighbors were walking around chatting about his son's news like it was weather. Maybe he ought to give Paldeok a piece of his mind.

"They've even expanded into America, the so-called hunter capital of the world."

"America?"

"Don't you even watch YouTube? Apparently the American president is bowing and scraping, China's green with envy — the whole circus!"

"Hon, you're not watching some shady YouTube channel, are you?"

"Oh, it just popped up, I only saw the title and scrolled past. Anyway, that's the level we're talking about!"

Ahem. Then again, maybe it was fine to leave it alone.

You can't blot out the sky with the palm of your hand. Their boy had simply grown too big. Mm. Mm.

He kept staring at the sky, pretending not to hear, for several more minutes. Footsteps approached from behind.

"Ahem, ahem. Hyeonseok's father! It's been a while~"

"Hm? Aigoo, I was wondering who it was — if it isn't Jiyoung's mother. Jiyoung's doing well, I hope?"

"Oh, don't even get me started. The job market is a disaster these days, so she's just at home..."

"Ah... I see."

Do Hyeoncheol was not, by nature, a man built for small talk. He was the quiet Korean-father type, the kind who let silences sit.

Today, though, matching his neighbors' chatter felt strangely easy.

That was when his combat-honed eyesight kicked in.

Hm?

The two neighbors kept the conversation going, but their eyes kept flicking past him, scanning the cars at his back.

Ahem.

Today's conversation really was enjoyable. A little neighborly goodwill. Every now and then, this sort of thing was perfectly fine. Mm. Mm.

"That's what I've been saying, honestly. ...But Hyeoncheol. Those cars behind you — did your son just buy those? Both of them?"

"The big black one on the right doesn't look like something a boy Hyeonseok's age should be driving. Don't tell me he made it big and bought one for his father?"

"Oh my, really? Is that true, Hyeoncheol?"

Ahem. Well. They'd asked first. Incorrect facts ought to be corrected.

"Aigoo, what's Hyeonseok doing buying cars? He's barely started working."

"Hm? Then whose are they?"

"These are... the black one was bestowed by the government, for his service during the 54th-floor incident. The white one was from the guild, so our boy's legs wouldn't get tired."

"Excuse me!?"

"Y-you received them as gifts? From the nation and the guild?"

The two neighbors' eyes went even rounder.

"How would our household ever afford cars like these? I've been semi-retired, patching over living expenses with a hunter's pension. They said they'd take care of the insurance and the taxes too, so I accepted."

"The insurance and the taxes too?"

"Good heavens... Hyeoncheol, you really hit the jackpot raising that son of yours!"

"Haha, I can hardly take credit for raising him. That rascal Hyeonseok just grew up decent all on his own. Hahaha!"

The pleasant gossip rolled on for quite a while after that. Then his wife and Hyeonseok came down into the garage.

"Shall we go, dear."

"Dad, here are the keys."

"Ah, son. Heading into work? What kind of guild makes a man work on the weekend — especially one already run ragged with the America business."

"Huh? No, I'm going to the cake sh—"

"Ah, say hello. This is Jiyoung's mother. She used to dote on you when you were little."

Hyeonseok's sentence died in his throat.

"Hyeonseok, hi! Oh my~ when did you get so tall!"

He offered an awkward little bow.

"Ah, hello."

But who was this person? This was uncomfortable.

"I remember you crying on the playground over there, you know. I called your mother and everything..."

"Yes, yes..."

"Hyeonseok's mother, hello~ Heading out for a family trip, I see~"

Hyeonseok's mom had already read the entire situation. She smiled, just shallowly enough that it wouldn't show.

"He and I would love to, but this one can't spare the time, you know~ Even today he's running out in slippers to meet a buyer who flew in from America. Just look at him."

"Hm? He just said he was going to the guild—"

"A TASH official came to the guild in person. You know TASH, of course?"

"Uh... ah, of course I do! But he mentioned a cake shop a second ago—"

"They flew all the way from America. How can he show up empty-handed? He has to bring cake at the very least."

"Ahh, I see~"

The chatter ignited all over again. Hyeonseok clicked his tongue inwardly.

...I have somewhere to be.

What American buyer? At this rate they were going to lose their place in line at the cake shop. And there was not the faintest sign of this conversation ending.

No choice...

He tapped his mother's shoulder.

"Mom, I, uh... I really have to go meet the TASH people."

"Oh my, look at me. Go on, hurry."

"Aigoo, we got carried away, didn't we. Keeping such a busy young man standing around."

"Run along, Hyeonseok. Ah, our Jiyoung says she wants to see you. You should give her a call!"

"Yes, yes..."

Who was Jiyoung again? He had a vague sense there might have been a kid by that name in elementary school.

He threw himself into the Porsche and fled the scene.

"Hoo..."

That drained the life out of him. Felt about twenty-four times harder than clearing the 24th floor.

He drove fast and arrived at the meeting place. The line was still long. He walked over to Jo Youchan, who was holding their spot in the middle of it.

"Sorry. You waited, huh?"

Jo Youchan's lower lip was stuck out in a full pout. He had definitely been waiting a while.

"...What took you so long, Master."

"Haha. S-sorry."

Lee Yeonhwa was nowhere in sight either. Turns out she was running late as well. Word was a snag in her filming schedule had held her up.

"Must've been rough holding the line by yourself."

"Yes. It was exhausting."

"Ha, haha."

Jo Youchan was still giving him the sulk, so he took out Rangi instead. One look at that little face was enough to melt anyone's temper. An unfairly cute Rangi.

"Grawr."

"Rangi, go sit with Uncle for a bit. You have to stay still, okay?"

"...Just this once."

Lee Yeonhwa arrived shortly after.

"I'm so sorry... heheh."

She wasn't calling him "you punk," so she did actually seem ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sorry.

"...Then I'm holding Yeohwa today, as compensation."

"Yes, sir!"

Lee Yeonhwa summoned Yeohwa and held the fox out toward Jo Youchan.

Yeohwa settled into Jo Youchan's arms. He'd half expected to get nipped, but the little fox was perfectly well-behaved.

She's resonating with Yeonhwa's guilt, huh.

Two plush tails swayed and swept, brushing softly across Jo Youchan's face, his neck, his chest. Ah. So that's where the phrase "playing the fox" comes from.

Jo Youchan was quietly grinning. He looked thoroughly, unreasonably pleased.

"I-I'll let you off the hook. Just this once."

"Heheh. Thank you!"

Today, it seemed, Jo Youchan was going to get to indulge himself rotten.

They were seated inside before long, thanks to Jo Youchan holding the wait.

"Since I'm the one who was late, I'll pay todayyy!"

"Hah! W-why is cake this expensive?"

9,700 won for a slice? They had the gall to print a four-digit price, but that was ten thousand won in everything but name.

"All the good dessert places are about this price these days."

"Prices have gone up a lot, yeah."

These rich kids. Their sense of money was nowhere near a commoner's.

Still, they're offering to pay, so...

If it had been his own money, he would never have touched it. He was rich now, but this was still way over the line.

A moment later the cake arrived.

"This is so good!"

"Mm..."

It was, against all expectation, genuinely delicious. So this was what money tasted like.

In the old days he would never have bought it. As a rich man, though, he could probably afford to have it every now and then.

I should bring some home for Mom and Seohyeon.

They talked over the cake.

"Master, how do you put together clear strategies that well? I want to learn too!"

"Oh, me too. I've always wondered."

"Mm."

Every strategy he used came out of Hunter Management. And Jo Youchan was a Hunter Management player too.

And yet Hyeonseok had conceived the perfect 24th-floor clear, and Jo Youchan had not. It wasn't just Jo Youchan. No Hunter Management player alive could do what he did.

Where did that gap come from?

If there's another sorry bastard out there who wrecked their whole damn life over Hunter Management as hard as I did, I'd like to see them.

He was rank one.

He had poured his life into that game. He didn't merely know every strategy — he had developed them. Other people might wonder what the fuss was over a game. It was not an easy thing. It was an achievement bought with a life ground down to powder.

Hunter Management was an auto-hunting simulation. Raise your hunters and the floor clears ran themselves. That was how most people played — easy, automatic, convenient. The ranking scene was a different world. You switched to manual and put on a display of possessed, god-tier control.

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In that game, he had raised countless combinations of hunters. He had cleared every floor more times than he could count. The result: he was the only player who had ever reached the final floor.

Jo Youchan had probably cleared the 24th too. On auto, though.

Even if someone who played on manual showed up, they still couldn't execute a clear in reality the way I do.

Take the 20s, for example. A speedrun of those floors was an act of insanity — what you'd call fossil-tier veteran play. A deranged clear method he had been the only one to attempt even inside the game.

The conditions required to even try it? An extreme-speed character on Jo Youchan's level. An exceedingly rare skill, Spirit Eye. The mechanical skill to thread every projectile.

Players who could satisfy even one of those conditions were a tiny minority. He had been different. He had theorycrafted countless character combinations, and he knew the clear for every single one of them.

And above all, even if someone met every one of those conditions, there was a decisive reason they still could not do what he did.

I'm as strong as I was in the game.

Only he was like that.

Other people could study the game and draft a strategy from it, sure. But they were not as strong as the characters in the game. They wouldn't even dare attempt it.

You land a 999,999-damage hit with a swordsman in an RPG. That doesn't mean the player can pick up a real sword and produce that kind of destruction. Of course they can't. They're not as strong as the character.

Obviously. This was reality, not Hunter Management.

But he was as strong as the characters inside Hunter Management. No — he was stronger.

One character holding Spirit Eye, Heavenly Explosive Strike, and Sunbo at the same time is impossible.

He could do it. That was the difference between him and Jo Youchan.

But...

I learned it from a game.

Not a thing he could actually say. He fudged it.

"I just... looked over some materials from the support team and thought about it a bit."

"Wow... are you a genius? Ah. Right. You are a genius."

Jo Youchan had spent relatively more time around him. The boy accepted it without much fuss.

"Come to think of it, our Master is also the monster who reads Special Training Room data with the naked eye and interprets it in real time."

"Sorry? You mean that training room that's a mess of screens and numbers? Th-that's not possible."

"You should come watch sometime. It's a spectacle all by itself."

Lee Yeonhwa, cream still smeared at the corner of her mouth, looked at him with shining eyes.

"Wooow... so the floors ahead won't be a problem either. Meeting you really is the greatest luck of my life, Master!"

"Wipe your mouth."

The cake really was good. He folded a little natural energy into a bite and fed it to Rangi too.

They were spending a peaceful stretch of time like that when—

"Let me take this. Yes, Directo—"

"What?"

The moment he heard the rest, his mouth fell open on its own.

"The collapse deadline is down to a week!?"

"A nationwide notice?"

Outside of a Master Clear, there was no precedent for that.

"What kind of monster uses a skill like that? What's even on the 57th Floor?"

It was staggering enough on its own. The words that followed were more shocking still.

"......What?"

The Dark Emperor? A familiar name. The Dark Emperor in Hunter Management was a 57th-floor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠monster too.

"Master, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"You don't look well."

He pulled up a search in a hurry. Director Jeong's words were true. Americans really had received a message containing the name Dark Emperor.

How is this possible?

Was his memory wrong? Had the monster in Hunter Management been something else, not the Dark Emperor?

"Youchan. Do you remember the Dark Emperor?"

"What's that."

"You said you played Hunter Management. Did you ever clear the 57th Floor? The thing that shows up there—"

"What's Hunter Management?"

...Huh?

"Hunter Management. The game. You said you'd played it."

"Is that a guild name?"

"What are you talking about. It's a game. You told me you'd played it."

"Huh? Did I?"

A chill ran through him. Goosebumps rose along his whole body.

He opened a search again. By now Hunter Management should have been a massive topic of conversation.

...Nothing.

Hunter Management did not exist in the results. It was as if such a game had never existed at all.

What on earth was going on?

He went straight home, sat down at his computer, and launched Hunter Management. Or rather — he tried to.

The game is gone.

What even was that game? What were the developers doing?

He started tracking people down immediately. Get obsessed enough with a single game and you end up memorizing the development team's names as a matter of course. Ripping into the producers on the community boards hadn't been a one- or two-day hobby.

The work was finished in less than a day. He put in an urgent request with the government and the guild, and they threw themselves into helping.

Every last one of them exists in reality, exactly as they were.

They were simply living different lives. One of the developers was making a different game. Someone else was unemployed. One of them was even a professional athlete.

Not a single one of them looked special.

So it wasn't the game that was special?

At first he had assumed the game called Hunter Management was the special thing. Now the game he would have called special had vanished without a trace.

Hunter Management was no longer a game. It existed only as his ability.

So it's my ability that's special, not the game?

How was he supposed to interpret this. Had his ability turned a game into reality?

It was a phenomenon far too supernatural. For now, there was no way to know.

No. That's not what matters right now.

America's Tower would collapse within a week. Stopping that came first.

The person who could clear the 57th Floor right now. The person who knew the 57th Floor.

In all the world, there was only him.