Seo Jin-hyeok: Prologue 9
My eyes followed the text, but none of it sank into my head. I closed the message screen and trudged outside.
The village basked in bright sunlight. For someone like me who stayed up until dawn every day doomscrolling the community boards before crashing, it had been ages since I'd seen morning sun. Maybe it was my first time ever.
I squinted, dragging my heavy feet into the restaurant. The same old NPC greeted me with its stiff politeness. I ordered the top item on the menu and, out of habit, pulled up the community window. The message screen I'd just closed popped open alongside it.
We sincerely mourn the passing of the late Lee Myung-sook.
Finally, the first line registered. Lee Myung-sook was my mom's name. I'd thought it was a bit old-fashioned a few times.
Clink.
Right after I properly read that first line, a plate appeared in front of me. This place serves food the moment you order. What had I even gotten?
◈ Crispy bacon is the star
◈ Generous portions for the price—perfect for broke adventurers
◈ Fills hunger substantially
It was a set meal like the breakfast at the inn: thick bacon, sunny-side-up eggs, mashed potatoes, and brown gravy. I poked the egg yolk with my fork.
Mom hated eggs this undercooked. Said they tasted fishy, or maybe she just didn't like the smell. But our home fried eggs were always sunny-side-up. Because I liked them that way.
Sizzle.
I burst the yolk over the bacon, stabbed a thick piece with my fork, and shoved it toward my mouth. It wasn't especially good or bad. Just flavorless. No feeling at all. The food slid down easily anyway.
The funeral proceeded as an unclaimed burial under case number ○○-○○-○○ due to absence of family. The remains have been placed in the memorial house per procedure.
I skipped a few lines, and the next one hit me. Mom had no relatives—I'm the only kin she had in the Tower. Single-parent home with no extended family, but Mom always tried to cover for Dad too, so I wouldn't feel down.
Gulp.
I took a swig of ice-cold water. It made my teeth ache, but it went down smooth. Before I knew it, the plate was empty. Like a defeated monster, it dissolved into light particles and vanished.
I left the restaurant and wandered a bit. Holed up in my room every day wasn't great, so I took walks like this sometimes. Really rarely, though.
I ended up at the bakery. Serious challengers buy armloads of bread here to carry around, they say. I didn't dungeon anymore, so I only came when I craved a snack.
I pushed open the door and stepped in.
"Welcome~"
The bakery NPC's greeting was just as robotic. Elite NPCs on higher floors feel more human, or so they say. Wonder if it's true.
I sniffed the fresh-baked bread smell—even though it couldn't have just come out of the oven. The floating community window wobbled in my vision.
The cause of death was acute myocardial infarction leading to cardiac arrest.
I wasn't sure which line it was, but one drilled into my head right then. Acute myocardial infarction. Heart attack. Sudden death. Down at the bottom of the shaking message interface, it speculated overwork as the cause.
Thud.
I averted my eyes from it and casually picked out some bread. Same as always. No change.
White rolls from the bakery are a staple for Tower of Trials rankers. Packed with sugar for quick calorie intake, and they come with a high-level luck buff. Other desserts have luck buffs too, but they're pricier with worse duration efficiency. White rolls hit the sweet spot on grade and time— the perfect food item.
I bought a bunch, including white rolls, and headed back to my room. The priciest room on the inn's second floor—my base.
"Tasty."
I'd just eaten, but the white roll went down fine. Rankers eat them daily and puke at the sight, some say. To me, just normal good bread.
Feeling the sweetness coat my mouth, I reopened the open community. I shoved the message aside and hit the humor board. Where I spend all day.
"Heh, heh heh heh."
A few posts in, I was chuckling. Snorting, I scrolled and scrolled. Before long, I'd stuffed all the white rolls in my mouth. Grabbed another bread, munched leisurely, kept scrolling.
Hours passed, and hunger hit around mealtime. I headed to my usual restaurant. Breakfast was whatever, but now I wanted something good. Ordered the cheese katsu bento I'd liked last time.
The crispy cutlet and stretchy cheese were as nutty and great as ever. Just like the bacon and eggs that were meh, this cheese katsu hadn't changed a bit either.
Same as always. Unchanged.
Unchanged...
Time flowed on, and night fell. I lay on the bed. Fitted for the priciest room, it was comfy as hell. Lying there felt like it was sucking me in. Way better than our home bed. Mine was wrecked after years, no softness left. Mom's was rock-hard.
Late night when most sleep, but my eyes were wide open. Opened the open community, spewed posts and comments like always.
Thump, thump.
Some unbearable urge welled up from deep in my chest. Like possessed, I hammered out a long post.
Title: My Mom Passed Away
[A long lament about my pitiful life: single mom, dirt-poor, mom's death. More misery than my old job-hunt rants.]
I called her "Mom"—a word I'd never used in my life—and posted my woe-is-me tale. Single-parent home, rags to riches fail, mother's death. More tragedy than my old prep-school sob stories.
I hadn't posted all day. The other ghosts must've wondered what was up. The community ghosts' replies exploded.
Comments filled the page instantly, notifications blaring.
Way different from my old throwaway posts or recent diary dumps. No troll comments either—the usual one or two were absent. Guess my situation looked that dire.
A weird pride swelled as replies poured in. I stared at the community till dawn, then slept.
Same as always. Unchanged.
I woke in the afternoon again. Closed the community window I'd left open and headed downstairs. Ordered something random, then habitually reopened the community. Shoved food in my mouth.
Mom died. Yesterday? Day before? No clue. Cause: acute heart failure from overwork. Funeral: unclaimed. And me? This whole time.
This whole time, rotting in my room, shitting out posts on the community.
Bang!
I slammed the table on purpose. Not unconscious—deliberately. Mom died. But nothing changed for me. Food went down fine. Sought tasty shit like always. Laughed at funny posts, wasted time. Lounging comfy on the bed giggling wasn't enough, so I fished for pity replies on my misery and felt smug.
No special tears or grief. No—in my grief, I ignored reality and wallowed like a retard.
"Fuck."
What the hell am I doing? Why?
The bullshit I'd spewed waiting for the Tower invite resurfaced—the root of it all. I was "biding my time." The dirt-poor kid's only shot to honor Mom, my big life reversal.
Enter the Tower, come back a Hunter, let Mom live easy. What a joke—what a devoted son. A guy who "thinks of Mom" still rotting in his room doomscrolling?
I'm a retard. A self-rationalizing slob dreaming of a free ride through life, a worthless NEET fuck.
I'd known deep down forever, but now it really hit.
"Fuck."
Waiting for the invite, I'd thought that. If I keep this up, life's fucked—but as a dirt-poor kid, no choice.
Half right. The "life fucked if unchanged" part. The rest? Pure rationalization.
Dirt-poor so unavoidable? Dirt-poor stay dirt-poor no matter effort? Efficiency's different? Sure, maybe not wrong.
But I wasn't dirt-poor to begin with. A tad poorer than average, but not that bad.
"Fuck."
Mom always worked hard. Worked double so I wouldn't mope. Died from overwork.
What did I do? Job prep excuse to rot at home. Dirt-poor excuse to slack, wait for invite. Planned to bus to low-rank Hunter. Knew it wouldn't fly, whined life fucked. Planned to hog Tower resources for easy high-rank. Knew nah, whined life fucked.
From start to end, scheming a handout life. Till Mom died.
"Fuck."
Slowly, I manipulated the community window. Reopened yesterday's message. Read Mom's death notice over and over. Forced every word's meaning into my skull.
Only after long reading and grasping did tears finally come.
Now, finally. Now.
After bawling forever, I sorted my thoughts. I'm a retard fuck. But if I just sit and cry, I'll be worse than that.
I bolted out of the inn. Opened inventory, equipped gear rotting for half a year. Headed to the shop.
Bought potions galore, stuffed inventory. Hit the bakery, bought every white roll in stock.
Never tried real effort in my life. No clue how. If not for this Tower, even after losing Mom, I'd cluelessly sob.
But this Tower has clear effort metrics. Simple: what I gotta do.
The Warrior Statue resonates with you.
You can change jobs to the normal class: Warrior.
I touched the central statue. Nodded without hesitation.
I dismissed the flashy job change spam and beelined for the Labyrinth entrance.
Challenger, the Tower of Trials calls to you.
Passed the long-missed message, delved into the Labyrinth. A green goblin welcomed me like it'd been waiting.
I took the basic stance for Sword Mastery Lv.1's starter skill, Brandish. Sword glowed, power surged through me. My body shot forward like fast-forwarded video.
The fierce swing cleanly bisected the goblin's head.
Crack!
Lead goblin down, the soldier goblins behind charged. I stepped forward with a kick. One kick downed several; one body slam scattered them.
In just over a minute, six goblins dead. Level suppression meant crap EXP. But some trickled in.
World with game-like systems. Obvious what to do.
Super simple. Never stop. Repeat endlessly. Till I solo the boss.
Thud!
Entered a small side room, kicked a treasure chest. Trap disguised as loot—touch it, monsters swarm and surround you.
"Come at me, you fucks!"
I yelled at the goblin squad encircling me, swung my sword, charged. Broke through monster hordes swinging, cleared 'em, found another trap, triggered it.
Tired? Chugged potions and white rolls, repeated. Same shit.
"Raaagh!!"
Night to dawn to morning.