Soul Rental
"Why do you ask?"
"Is what the turtle says true? Haven't you already competed here before?"
"What are you—"
I had no choice but to ask the Dragon King, who had been watching every match so far.
Seeing the man flustered told me my hunch was right. There was definitely something going on with this guy.
But the Dragon King only slowly, heavily shook his head.
"True or false, I shall not answer. A wise ruler must, by nature, keep his mouth sealed and his words few."
"Th-that is, you shouldn't go around suspecting people without any evidence, Your Majesty."
If things went on like this, I'd end up as the villain—the man who doubted an innocent person and won his second match through lies.
The peaceful ending would sink without a trace because of me.
…But one thing was certain.
If the man's words were true, then he was unnaturally favored in this quest.
'A board where only one side holds extra information is simple. The tower wouldn't want the match tilting in one person's favor.'
"If you're a righteous sovereign, shouldn't you treat ministers from opposing sides under the same conditions?"
"…What did you say?"
At my defiance, the Dragon King's whole body trembled, his scowl deepening into a mask of arrogance.
Thunder rumbled from his enraged frame.
Thud. A flake of dust-flecked skin dropped from the crease between his brows.
"Do you dare mock me now?"
The Dragon King's eyeballs rolled, glaring as if he might kill me on the spot.
My knees nearly buckled; my legs had gone to water.
Maybe exposing the man's identity would only be my ruin.
Still, going by the quest's terms, the Dragon King wouldn't harm me directly. He wouldn't kill me himself—he'd have a rock do it.
"If that turtle over there already experienced the trial beforehand, shouldn't you impose a suitable penalty, Your Majesty? Or grant me a hint, at least."
In my urgency, I babbled in English that the Dragon King shouldn't have understood.
And yet, being part of the tower's system, the Dragon King seemed to have grasped my meaning anyway.
As the Dragon King sank into thought, the man began waving both arms at me, perhaps growing uneasy.
"Mister. What are you trying to—"
"There is reason in your words."
"?!!"
The Dragon King nodded, then turned to the man and offered a ceremonial smile.
"Turtle of the right side, I shall show the rock you supposedly worked with. Pray do not take offense."
Kuguung—
The ground split open, and the rock he'd supposedly worked with rose to the surface.
…A rock painted in blood.
With his lie laid completely bare, the man wore an expression of resignation.
"Just how long have you been in this place?"
"Seriously, stop talking down to me and dismissing me like that."
"Ha. Fine. How long have you been here, Mister?"
"…I-I can't even count anymore."
He couldn't count the time that had passed?
Come to think of it, it would be hard to track how much time slipped by inside this museum.
Especially here on Floor 3, in the Dragon Palace—a map with no sun to mark the hours, unlike Floor 2.
"One… no, f-five, ah, no. Six… people…?"
"?!"
But the man was counting humans, not hours.
'He's met six visitors?'
Then where had they all gone, that this palace held only this man now?
The man knew what fate awaited visitors who lost these matches. Which meant—
"Answer quickly."
"I… I've already said enough. Beyond this, I don't have the right to—"
Under my glowering stare, the man shut his mouth in fright.
Truthfully, it wasn't my eyes he feared so much as the Dragon King's.
The Dragon King had declared he would treat both ministers fairly, so another lie might well earn the man a penalty.
In the end, the man let out a deflating sigh and stammered on.
"Y-you see…! Once the third match ends, I don't care what happens after that."
"…What?"
The man had used the word disposal. Disposal?
Seeing my shock, the man lost control of himself, his voice rising into an agitated pitch.
Perhaps he thought he had me cornered, because his tone carried a subtle new confidence.
"The tower said that after three trials, it would eliminate the visitor who lied. S-so the overtime match is up to the challenger's whim…!"
The sickle in the man's hand flashed, sharp and sudden.
At the same time, an image surfaced in my mind—of the man swinging that sickle with practiced ease, his body twitching and glitching.
"So. You've been killing other visitors yourself this whole time?"
"The overtime matches… or, right before a match ends, the disposal—that's because I panicked, I…."
"What?!"
When I stepped toward him, the man immediately lost his bravado and shrank back.
For someone who'd committed such cruel, brazen acts, he couldn't even hold his bluff together.
"Don't come closer! Even if I look like a shrimp, you're no match for me!!"
"Why kill them at all? You could have tried resolving it another way."
"The quest only specifies up to the third trial, but the overtime matches keep dragging on—what if I'm the one who ends up broken next?!"
"……"
"I'm the bad guy?! Someone's getting screwed no matter who loses! Whether I die here, or I turn into a rabbit and have my belly sliced open over and over—what's the difference?"
The man spat as he defended himself.
He wasn't wrong, and that was exactly why I couldn't bring myself to argue.
Defeated visitors were doomed to be sacrificed as data, revived only to suffer again.
From the moment the tower put a dagger in my hand and a sickle in his, it had probably planned everything down to mutual murder.
"So you killed those visitors. Did it get you anywhere?"
"…They wouldn't send me up to Floor 4, saying my match opponents had vanished. After that, I just waited in place for a new opponent to appear."
Meaning a visitor only truly succeeded when the Dragon King delivered the final blow to the one who lost the match.
'Wait. Something doesn't add up here.'
"You know that the turtle smashing its head on a rock is one of the endings of the tale of the rabbit and the turtle."
"……"
"You watched a visitor who lost the match become that turtle, didn't you?"
"…Yes."
"Then why didn't you ascend to Floor 4? That would mean your quest succeeded."
At my question, the man heaved a groaning sigh.
Perhaps remembering all his wasted effort, he bowed his head and fiddled with his sickle.
"In that trial, my opponent died as the turtle—but I never became a true rabbit."
"A true rabbit?"
"In the final match, you must lay down a Mass That Lost Life. Only by offering up a liver does one become a true rabbit."
"……"
According to the man, victory required two conditions.
Winning the greater number of the three matches.
And, in the final match, placing a Mass That Lost Life on the dish—without fail.
"This time, it'll probably go to overtime again."
The man twisted the corner of his mouth into a sneer.
I could almost see invisible bloodstains smeared across his smile.
"If you feel sorry for the next visitor getting sacrificed over and over, then just lose to me, Mister. You seem pathetically kind enough to."
"The third match. Begin."
Deng—
Having had his fun mocking me, the man moved off to gather his last harvest.
I had no time to rise to his bait.
His sickle, already stained with human blood, against my dagger, stripped of its power—who would vanish first if we traded blows was obvious.
'He was so timid until just now…. The moment he became certain he'd win, he started posturing.'
He was probably venting on me the humiliation he'd suffered outside the tower.
Maybe he was trying to erase the guilt of repeated murder by drowning it in a sense of superiority.
'If he's worked up over wanting to stand above me, then his explanation isn't a lie.'
What remained on the map was one Egg of the Land and one Mass That Lost Life.
The final match that could only end in a draw.
'Since we both know each other's hands, the overtime will drag on—and he'll keep placing the rabbit's liver on the dish.'
If I didn't want to die, I'd have to point a blade at someone else.
'I'm climbing this tower to grant my wish, aren't I? Tasks like this will keep coming, so I can't afford to stay weak forever.'
Besides, even without killing him directly, if I won this game, the man would be erased from the tower.
Just then, one particular rabbit came circling around in front of me. Was this my chance?
'Even if I worked up the courage to cut out the rabbit's liver, the man already knows my hand.'
No matter how I played it, overtime was the only answer.
Even if I forced it and killed the man, it wouldn't count as a true victory, so I'd remain stranded on this map.
'Kill this man, trick new visitors into matches, win, and ascend—that's the best path.'
I had sworn I'd do whatever it took to grant my wish.
Then wouldn't feeling guilt over harming rivals be a useless emotion?
At that moment, the rabbit that had been quietly circling suddenly looked me dead in the eye and spoke.
"Pl…ease…, help…."
"Damn it!!"
It could even talk. It was deliberately steering me toward guilt.
Shaaa—
The tool's attack power has increased.
◈ Description: Fit for cleaving a Mass apart.
The 'Dagger That Lost Its Light' had become the 'Sharpened Dagger.'
Light flared from the dagger in my hand, and in an instant its edge gleamed clean and razor-sharp.
'…They've balanced it for me, so the gap in attack power won't be so wide.'
It might be the perfect opportunity. And yet—
This wasn't guidance. This was seduction.
'If I kill the man and keep running matches against new visitors, I might eventually make it to Floor 4.'
I couldn't die quietly for him. But I couldn't kill him quietly, either.
'Someday I might grow numb to killing people. But at least for now—'
"Hurry up, or I'm using my perk!"
"……"
The man's shout tore me out of my thoughts.
Still, his threat deserved at least half a grain of skepticism.
'He's been resident on this map this whole time, so odds are he's already burned through his allotted uses of his perk.'
That was a guess, assuming there was a usage limit.
If the man could still use his perk, then I'd have to ambush him with my dagger before he did.
'Judging by my own situation, each perk carries a trait tied to its owner's personal abilities.'
Which meant that guy had likely developed something in the line of strength or offense.
In the end: if he used his skill, I die. If he couldn't, I still die.
"……"
I refused to become a tool for the tower's quests, annexed to its system.
I wanted to grant my wish. I wanted to win.
Damn it. My whole body trembled with fear. And then—
"?!"
The Curator's voice rang at my ear.
I whipped around, scanning my surroundings, but the Curator was nowhere to be seen.
The man, waiting on me, idly ground his foot into the dirt with an indifferent face.
'So the man can't hear the Curator's voice?'
[Discuss fairness, and you cannot survive.]
Was the Curator aiding me—a man short on experience—against this veteran of countless matches?
It kept pressing on the very point I'd been agonizing over, shaking my resolve.
'……'
Having apparently said its piece, the Curator poured no further voice into my ear.
I swallowed hard and spoke to the man. Final negotiation.
"There has to be a way for us to climb the tower together."
"……"
"Can't we at least try thinking about it together, just once?"
Truthfully, it was less a negotiation than begging.
Even so, I wanted to hope, just this once, that we might find a way for both of us to live.
If I imagined tackling this quest alongside Jang Siwoon and Go Gyumin, then surely—
"Just die, Mister."
The man answered instantly, as if I weren't worth considering.
Of everything he'd said so far, it was the most decisive.
Ha.
Now I had to choose.
The dagger's attack power had suddenly surged, and the Curator had even slipped me secret counsel.
The time had come to split human skin with a blade.
'Still, I'll go my own way.'
[A path no others chose.]
[How intriguing.]
[You have passed the Curator's special trial.]
The Curator's voice sounded again, and a Leaflet unfolded before my eyes.
Shaaa—
'Soul Rental?'