Slaves of the Colosseum (2)

Met with the sincerity in Go Gyumin's eyes, I took a moment to catch my breath and sort out my thoughts.

Right. If it's a combat quest, maybe the smart move is to dodge it for now and look for another way.

If visitors were dueling each other, that would be one thing, but going up against ancient Roman gladiator NPCs? Hopeless. The NPCs, faithful to their era to a fault, were all hulking, muscled men or savage beasts.

But just as Go Gyumin was busy coaxing me, a Leaflet unfurled before us.

Swish—

We're on Floor 32 right now, and all we have to do is win three Colosseum matches to reach Floor 48?

The danger was proportional to the reward — a flawless trade. Even the final line was pure temptation, hinting that no such prize awaited those who chose the attendant's path.

Gripping my thundering heart, I looked at Go Gyumin with shining eyes. "Mr. Go! Let's do it!"

"Haah... This is why I can never get along with people who actually try in life."

Go Gyumin let out a sigh so long it seemed the ground would cave in beneath him.

And yet, oddly enough, the corners of my mouth lifted at the sound. The choice had already been made.

"Jisan, look — you've been handling the quests well so far, I'll give you that. But look at this. We're not even in the same weight class."

Go Gyumin pointed a finger at the muscular slave, trying to snap me back to my senses. The slave caught the gesture and glared murderously back at him. Go Gyumin hastily lowered his hand and pressed both arms respectfully against his sides.

"Mr. Go. I'm confident."

"...What is with that baseless, brazen confidence of yours?"

My voice had come out so clear and certain that Go Gyumin's jaw went slack. He stared at me, brimming with conviction, and the emotion written in his eyes was suspicion and bewilderment. He was so flustered that he forgot to manage his expression entirely, his mouth hanging open with no idea how to close it.

It's the same reaction he always shows, but seeing it line up with the actual facts like this is a little embarrassing.

I knew Go Gyumin underestimated me, and honestly, that assessment had always been the correct one. When it came to physical strength, I'd never had any connection to it.

But that wasn't true anymore. The me standing here now could channel Zhang Fei of the Three Kingdoms.

As it happens, I've got the Zhang Fei Soul Rental lined up. A duel is something I can be confident about.

Which gladiator I'd face was still an unknown, but with Zhang Fei's abilities, victory was well within reach.

And besides, this won't be a contest that favors brute force alone.

This tower always maintained its own brand of fairness. It never built a structure where one side enjoyed an overwhelming advantage and simply left it at that. Somewhere, hidden away, there was always another option — another solution.

"It won't be a contest decided purely by strength."

"Ha. And you're telling me that inside the Colosseum of all places?"

There was a scoff threaded through Go Gyumin's objection, and his reaction wasn't unreasonable. The word Colosseum alone summoned images of combat and blood.

"If it were, the visitors' clear rate would be far too low. If only the physically gifted could get past Floor 50, do you really think the tower would stand for that?"

After all, the fun only lasted as long as the visitors came in all shapes and abilities, with every kind of perk. The tower and the Curator pursued perfection through the entertainment of their exhibitions. It wasn't a simple survival testing ground — the whole structure seemed designed for the amusement of some watching someone.

The Colosseum is a miniature of this tower itself.

"And this time, for once, there might be items involved. With the right item effects, raw strength could bounce back."

"...That's all speculation."

Go Gyumin dismissed every one of my theories with a single dry reply. And truthfully, he was right — it was still just hypothesis and guesswork. Nothing was confirmed, which made persuading him an uphill battle.

Is it really fair of me to drag Mr. Go into this quest just because I happen to have Zhang Fei's soul?

If luck turned against us and Go Gyumin truly had to fight on physical strength alone, then my arrogant judgment — leaning on a hero's soul — would get us both erased.

Wait a second. The quest doesn't actually say whether we're a team or not.

If, like a duel, victory and defeat were determined individually... then regardless of how Go Gyumin fared, I could climb if I won.

But even if the reward is individual, can I really just leave Mr. Go behind...?

I needed to decide, once and for all, that I couldn't abandon him. Yet with such a fine weapon as Zhang Fei in my grasp, the temptation kept creeping back in. Go Gyumin seemed to want to be an attendant more than a slave anyway — so couldn't we simply choose different paths?

No. Still, Mr. Go is my comrade.

...But weren't we comrades precisely because we ran toward the same quest goal? If our goals weren't the same, then splitting up to pursue each of our own possibilities might be the rational choice.

"Hold on, though. There are only two of us slaves. We're one short. So is Myeonghyeon showing up again this time?"

Watching Go Gyumin blurt out whatever crossed his mind the instant it did, I was suddenly washed over with guilt. He was dealing with me without hiding a single thing, while I sat there scheming in the shadows.

If I'm going to make the choice to split off, I should at least say it to his face.

Playing the hypocrite and pretending to be the good guy was a habit I'd already kicked.

"If the pattern from the previous floor repeats with a similar composition... I'd guess another visitor is about to show up any moment now."

That was when it happened.

"Hey, you two Orientals. Are you going to be attendants, or slaves of the arena?"

The old man cut into our conversation, pressing us for an answer. It almost sounds like quest progression is still possible even as an attendant.

Just then, a new Leaflet unfurled before the old man. The wording felt similar to the quest from before, but the choice it offered was different.

Swish—

So becoming an attendant means no jumping to Floor 48?

The safe, slow road. The dangerous, fast one. Risk your neck and you rise quickly; lack the capacity to bear the risk and you trudge along bit by bit.

If the attendant's choice were a guaranteed dead end, the decision would at least have been easy.

"Jisan. I hear you, but we have to survive — even if it means taking the long way around."

"......"

His words settled heavily on my chest. I wasn't angry at him. It was the fleeting, repulsive thought that I might not be included in his we — that made me sick of myself.

"If even one of the three of us loses, it's all over for every one of us. Sure, you've got this impossible confidence of yours, but if I lose, that's the end for you too, Jisan!"

"...You're right."

Right. The idea that the Colosseum duels might involve more than brute force is, after all, just my own guess.

Go Gyumin didn't seem to have anticipated the possibility of the two of us splitting onto different paths. To be fair, I wasn't hoping for that outcome either. Victory wasn't guaranteed just because I'd trade him for two brand-new strangers on a combat quest.

What do I do?

My worries tangled into a hopeless knot inside my head. The options were simple, but the decision refused to be.

"I haven't seen your Perk yet, Mr. Go. Is it something you could use in a duel?"

"Is it? I'm a sorikkun, kid. A pansori singer."

"...I see."

It was a short answer, but it explained everything. Go Gyumin's Perk was tied to his profession — and it was no direct combat ability.

"Like, moving the enemy to tears with a song from the arena floor?"

"Sadly, I'm no Pavarotti-level prodigy."

"......"

The last hopeful notion I could dredge up, and Go Gyumin trampled it into the dirt yet again. He shrugged, answering with the casual air of a man cracking a joke.

Right. The quest says all three of us have to fight together. Teamwork only works when I'm with someone I can actually trust.

Maybe I really did have to give up on this and take the slow road. Little by little, I was letting myself be won over by Go Gyumin. And then—

"Whoa, look over there! That's insane!"

The middle-aged man and the old man holding us began snickering together. Go Gyumin and I turned our heads in the same direction at the same moment.

Another slave merchant, apparently, dragging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a chain as he walked toward us. "Hey! Brought one more slave!"

The face of the merchant greeting us was, in a word, a disaster. It was mottled head to toe with deep purple bruises, while his pupils, by contrast, were bloodshot crimson. His eye ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sockets and cheeks were so swollen he looked like he'd been stung by a swarm of hornets — it was hard to imagine what he'd originally looked like at all.

"Whoa. What happened to your face? You're completely puffed up."

"Don't get me started. Thought it was some skinny little girl at first, but the punch on her — she's going to fly around that arena, I'm telling you."

A little girl with a vicious punch?

The incongruous phrase made my eyes snap open. A brutal punch and a young girl. A combination no one would guess — but I'd already seen it with my own eyes, so the answer came to me at once.

"I can walk on my own, so quit dragging me!!"

That voice...!

The woman's voice lashed out cold and sharp. My heart slammed against my ribs at the sound I knew so well. That irritable, biting tone. It couldn't be anyone else.

"Hey, quit yanking it!!"

It was Jang Siwoon, all right. The merchant had called her a little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠girl, but strictly speaking she was a grown woman. Her loose, billowy clothes only made her small frame stand out more, which was probably why she read as younger.

With both wrists bound, Jang Siwoon grabbed the chain and drove a kick into the merchant dragging it.

"This one's got a nasty streak. If I hadn't tied her down good, my cheekbone would've gone flying."

"I let you tie me up, so shut your mouth. If you weren't one of the bastards crawling around inside this tower, that lying mouth of yours would—"

Jang Siwoon glared at the merchant with feral eyes, spitting out one curse after another.

Siwoon... you've gone seriously dark, huh.

She'd never been especially gentle-tempered to begin with, but now she'd transformed into something far rougher and more aggressive.

Go Gyumin, apparently a little shell-shocked, couldn't manage a word and just stared at the battered merchant.

Come to think of it, Mr. Go never actually saw Siwoon throw a punch.

"Siwoon!"

"Huh? Jisan...? Mr. Go!"

Only when I hurriedly called her name did she notice us, her eyes going wide. The instant we recognized each other, the tension locked into Jang Siwoon's body melted away, and she visibly relaxed.

"Wow... Siwoon did that? Incredible. He nearly died..."

Go Gyumin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠murmured in something close to awe. His pupils had gone hazy and distant — he was clearly reliving his own past bout against her.

"Pay the 3,000 sesterces."

"There you go. Take her. Get a good grip on that chain!"

Gold coins came pouring into the palm of the merchant who'd sold her.

Her slave price is on a completely different level from ours.

And we'd been two people, no less.

"There we go! Three slaves for the duels, all gathered!"

"......"

There was no putting off the choice any longer.

Swish—

For Jang Siwoon, who had just arrived, the quest Leaflet spread open once more. She widened her round eyes even further and read through each line, slow and deliberate.

Go Gyumin, watching her, seemed to be pondering something intently as well, his expression shifting by degrees.

"Jisan, let's do the Colosseum duels. I think there's real potential in this one!"

A complete about-face from his attitude mere moments ago, when I'd said I was confident. The naked difference in how he treated me versus Jang Siwoon was so absurd that a hollow laugh escaped me.

"...Mr. Go. Even with Siwoon here, you're still dead last in physical strength. Nothing about that changes."

"It's fine. At this level, it's doable."

Unlike before, Go Gyumin nodded with a conviction so absolute it bordered on strange.

What exactly is Mr. Go's Perk?

Something about his manner had changed since earlier, and the question nagged at me. Go Gyumin grossly underestimated me, to be sure — but things had settled the way I wanted, so I decided to let it slide. For now.