Just a Taste

The first evening after work.

I sat there on edge, a nervous wreck, trying to figure out how I was supposed to apologize tomorrow.

I even posted a question online. Not on the Hunter Management boards—on a working-adults forum you could only join if you actually had a job.

I'd signed up the second I qualified, buzzing with excitement.

Every last reply was useless.

I didn't ask for that. I asked for advice! Advice!

Wasn't there a backseat gamer like me out there somewhere? I just wanted a senior office worker to hear me out.

And then a new notification window appeared.

Heavenly Exploding Strike was a tier-one skill in Hunter Management. A unique skill, top-class in both raw power and potential. Its only real downsides were how rare it was, and how loud the sound effect got.

And I could use it now?

More to the point—this was a skill you only unlocked at twentieth-floor stats.

Is this for real?

So this ability wasn't just about dishing out advice the way it worked in Hunter Management.

But Jo Youchan ignored what I said, didn't he?

Wonder what got into him. Anyway, I was glad it had helped.

A warm, satisfied fullness rose in my chest—the fulfillment of a backseat gamer. No. Of an advisor. Knowing someone's situation had gotten better because of me was a pleasure all on its own.

I set those feelings aside for now and locked my bedroom door.

Click.

Dad, I'm sorry!

I was just going to dip a toe onto the first floor and come right back. I actually had a real ability now. How was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I supposed to sit still with this?

Everyone says the first floor is safe.

People who'd died on the first floor, you could count on one hand. You could leave the Tower whenever you wanted. As long as you didn't black out or get killed on the spot, you were fine.

Especially on the first floor—the monsters were slow. Getting dropped so fast you couldn't even declare an exit was basically impossible.

So I'm really just going to have a taste. Just a taste.

Just like I'd seen online, I declared my intent to enter.

Tower Entry!

Whoosh—

My vision shifted.

Jo Youchan opened the door to the Support Team office, long after everyone else had gone home. The lights were still on.

"Huh?"

It was An Donghyeon from the Support Team—the one assigned to Hyeonseok.

"Oh, Hunter Jo Youchan?"

"You haven't left yet."

Perfect timing.

"Hey. Do you have that guy's number from this afternoon?"

An Donghyeon flinched, the answer leaving his mouth on instinct.

"Uh, I don't have it."

There was no way he didn't. This was his direct junior, the one he'd been assigned to train. But…

If I hand over that number right now, I'm dead.

Showing up in the dead of night with fire in his eyes, hunting the guy down. He even looked worked up, breathing a little hard. He must have been seriously pissed.

"You don't have it?"

"No. N-nope. Why are you looking for his number, anyway…?"

This time Jo Youchan flinched. After blowing up the way he had during the day, he could hardly admit he'd been too impatient to wait until morning clock-in.

"I just… have something I wanted to ask him."

"I see…"

"..."

A brief silence settled over the room. Then Jo Youchan started rummaging through the office files, hunting for a contact number.

Before long, from a stack of documents, he found a photo of a familiar face.

Ah…

That's mine.

It was a precision analysis report from the Special Training Room. This was the Support Team office, after all. Traces of his desperate, grinding fight for a breakthrough.

Technique mattered. To climb the Tower, you had to hone your technique. Physical stats depended entirely on floor count—clear a floor, and your stats grew stronger as a reward.

In the end, personal ability comes down to technique alone.

In the early days after the Tower appeared, hunters had gathered to research martial arts and magic. That was how guilds began.

But in the modern era, things had warped. Corporations and even governments had muscled in, sponsoring guilds and martial schools. Naturally, cutting-edge technology had been brought in for training. Jo Youchan's Special Training Room was a prime example, and the data from those sessions was all written here.

How the grooves in the steel plates changed depending on his stance. A 3D map visualizing the electrical current he discharged. Graphs of internal mana fluctuation, measured by mana-reading straps.

All of it was worthless.

A single sentence from that man had been worth far more. Irritated, he tore the strap from his wrist and threw it. A snap as the connector broke.

"H-hey, th-that's expensive…!"

"What?"

"That equipment… ah, never mind."

Two years, stuck behind the guardian of the twentieth floor. Hellish time.

He'd received the guild's full, unstinting support. He should have lived up to those expectations. He should have filled the void left by the fallen legend, Do Hyeoncheol.

Even Advance Guild's slide into decline had come to feel like it was all his fault.

Jo Youchan hated showing weakness, so he had tried not to let any of it show. Inside, though, he had been rotting. The higher your pride, the more horrific the fall—the slow, grinding recognition that I am nothing special.

But not anymore…!

Wait for me, Father. His hands still trembled, buzzing with residual current and sheer joy. He could finally move toward his dream again. The dream of climbing the Tower together with his father, the Guild Master of Advance.

Who the hell is that guy, anyway.

He thought the man had said his name, but Jo Youchan couldn't remember it. He had a habit of not memorizing the names of people he considered useless. At the time, he'd judged it a name worth forgetting.

"Hey."

"Yes, Hunter Jo."

"What was that guy's name from this afternoon?"

An Donghyeon rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

"That… uh? Haha, I only met him today myself. Completely slipped my mind."

A painfully obvious lie. But Jo Youchan let it slide. He didn't even know this employee's name, and he'd been looking at the man for ages.

His mind was full of thoughts about Hyeonseok. It still felt like a dream.

Breaking through a wall that held for two years with a single piece of advice… is that actually possible?

It was like something out of a martial arts novel. But he had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no choice but to believe it. It had happened in reality.

He thought of himself two years ago—those days overflowing with arrogance. After slamming into that towering wall, after living through something this miraculous, he felt like nothing more than a frog at the bottom of a well.

Jo Youchan was learning humility from Hyeonseok.

Wait.

The hand rummaging through the desk paused. A question had surfaced.

Wasn't my Thunder Finger a unique skill?

How could he be so thoroughly versed in a technique he'd never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even seen? Unique skills were, among awakening abilities, rare gifts with no known precedent.

That fancy modifier, unique. At first, the attention had felt good. But once he'd lost his way, he had realized it was a curse. There were no case studies to reference. He couldn't visit some martial school and ask the masters for help. It had felt like being dropped into an open ocean.

And yet that man—how? Did that mean he was that much of a master?

Or maybe…?

What if he'd awakened the same skill? Was it not a unique skill anymore? Really?

Joy and delight welled up in his chest. It would mean he had an advisor to guide him. He wouldn't have to drift in that open ocean anymore.

…No.

Don't get your hopes up. Jo Youchan had developed a trauma around having his expectations betrayed. If it were that easy, it wouldn't be called a unique skill. Realistically, the odds were far too low.

The hand that had stopped started moving again.

I was in. Finally inside the Tower.

I've really become a hunter.

I swallowed the swelling emotion and looked around. Just like I'd heard online, and just like Hunter Management had recreated it. A grassy field that looked like a beginner-zone backdrop from a game. Skeletons wandering aimlessly, with nowhere in particular to be.

I won't clear it today. I'll just use the skill once and get out.

Safety first, after all. And I'd made a promise to Dad.

Alright then…

They said the first floor was easy, but you still couldn't take it lightly. Their bones were hard as stone, and they were way stronger than an adult man. That's what the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠internet said.

Heavenly Exploding Strike is only level 1, so it shouldn't be that powerful.

I had no idea how strong level 1 actually was. Unlike Hunter Management, reality didn't have skill levels.

I picked out a suitable skeleton and walked up to it. Then I took my stance.

Like this?

My body moved on its own, as if it already knew the motion. Even though it was my first time, it flowed as naturally as water. Unlike Thunder Finger, Heavenly Exploding Strike wasn't a technique you used with just your fingers.

Crack—

My fist shot out.

KRA-KOOOOM—!

With a thunderclap, the skeleton vanished. It literally exploded without a trace.

"…?"

Dust blooming from the shockwave. The ground shallowly cratered, like something had punched a dent in the earth. I stared blankly at the scene I had just created.

Holy crap.

This was a high-tier skill, Heavenly Exploding Strike? But it was level 1. Was it allowed to be this strong?

I looked down at my fist. Current still crackled through it.

"..."

I'd planned to just try the skill and leave…

As if possessed, I headed for the next skeleton.

KRA-KOOM—!

The next skeleton.

KAANG!

"Whoa…"

I was still standing there in a daze when a rattling clatter sounded right behind me.

"Hah—!"

I spun around. Three of them had aggroed on the noise and bunched up together. My fist shot out on reflex.

KRAAAANG—!

"Hahh…"

I hadn't expected to drop three of them in a single hit. Clearing the first floor was turning out to be a lot more trivial than I'd thought.

BANG. BANG. KRA-KOOM!

The whole thing took less than five minutes.

The internet said not to let your guard down even if the first floor is easy.

Guess that was just something people said. It had the same energy as "look both ways before you cross the street."

Is it because the skill is so good?

A skill that only unlocked at twentieth-floor stats. And I'd brought it to the first floor. If this were Hunter Management, I'd have been reported for hacking.

My ears hurt a bit, though.

Loudness aside, Heavenly Exploding Strike was a perfect skill.

Ding!

And what was a Master Clear supposed to be.

I heard ranks come out as letters of the alphabet.

I wished they'd pick a lane—either go the realistic route or go the Hunter Management route. Don't keep throwing new stuff at me. It was confusing.

"Oh!"

I knew this one. I'd seen it online. It was in Hunter Management too.

My nickname's gotta be that one.

The nickname I'd used in Hunter Management. An ultra-rare nick, unique on the entire server.

"Hell yeah!"

That's the stuff.

Jo Youchan shouted.

"Found it!"

"Y-yes?!"

An Donghyeon shot to his feet. Then, catching the look on Jo Youchan's face—a look that clearly asked what his problem was—he sat back down.

…Whatever. I did my best.

How was he supposed to stop that. Look at him, eyes spinning, over the moon that he'd finally found it.

That nepo-hire bastard is so screwed.

Unaware of An Donghyeon's inner turmoil, Jo Youchan carefully read through Hyeonseok's profile.

"Contact, contact… wait?"

The man's name was Do Hyeonseok.

Do Hyeonseok?

I've heard that somewhere. Wait.

"Wait…! Do Hyeoncheol!"

It was far too similar to the name of the fallen legend, Do Hyeoncheol. Similar enough to suspect they were family.

"No, still, you can't go on a name alone…"

Even as he said it, his head slowly turned toward An Donghyeon. An Donghyeon slowly turned his head away, avoiding eye contact—even though he had clearly just heard the name Do Hyeoncheol shouted across the room.

That attitude turned suspicion into certainty. Good lord. So that's what it was.

He really is the legend's successor!

That explained Do Hyeonseok's eye. He was a master raised under a legend.

He pulled out his phone then and there and looked up the hunter database. What floor was this new legend on now? Had he passed the fortieth? The fiftieth? Maybe he'd already drawn close to Do Hyeoncheol's record…

Huh?

No search results. Meaning he wasn't a hunter.

What the hell…

Only then did the excitement drain away, and his thinking returned to normal. Come to think of it, a hunter wouldn't be working on the Support Team in the first place. He'd decided the man was a master and gotten so buried in that conclusion that he'd overlooked the obvious.

He's really a civilian? Not a master, not the legend's successor?

That couldn't be. Then what the hell was that advice.

Maybe… he just started climbing the Tower.

Jo Youchan shook his head. That was stretching it too far. If someone with that kind of skill had started climbing, the whole country would have been in an uproar overnight. Just as people had with Jo Youchan himself in his prime, the public paid a lot of attention to promising hunters.

But looking at how there's been no climbing news to speak of… wait?

Ding!

A notification appeared before his eyes.