Return (1)
Dungeons are open to everyone.
Even an ordinary person with no qualifications whatsoever can walk right into one.
The prevailing theory holds that a dungeon is, at its core, an independent pocket of space torn free from another world. Think of it like an abandoned building in a derelict city — anyone can step inside, but most people simply don't. You never know what kind of danger might be waiting in there.
Dungeons are much the same. The only real differences are the monsters that live inside them, and the valuable rewards you can sometimes walk away with.
And so humanity decided to classify dungeons by risk level and manage them accordingly — to keep the clueless from wandering in and dying a pointless death. Korea, having managed its dungeons this way for years, came to possess one of the finest dungeon administration systems in the world… and whether because of that or not, it also enforced stricter standards than any other country.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry, but I think there's been a mistake with this evaluation?"
"Pardon?"
I'd come in for the preliminary assessment required to register as a formal Explorer, and I pointed at the monitor delivering the verdict.
"This rank — is this correct?"
There, floating on the screen, was the utterly absurd letter F.
Meaning I had been graded F-rank on the preliminary assessment. Me — the man once praised as the Black Knight, the man who had saved the world with nothing but a sword!
"The result is correct, sir."
"Excuse me?"
The young examiner, who had no way of knowing any of that, recited the manual in a voice thick with weary irritation.
"If you haven't awakened any abilities, that's what everyone gets. Our evaluation criteria are based on that, so…"
The tone of a man who knew he had to say something but would rather be doing literally anything else. Probably meant a lot of people complained about their rankings the same way I was.
"If you're not satisfied with the result, you can take a separate examination and apply for a re-evaluation, which may be reflected…"
Right now, I was just another common, difficult customer making a scene.
I'd heard they graded stingily, but I didn't think it'd be this stingy.
A high preliminary rank made everything that followed much easier. You were authorized to start operating one tier below whatever rank you received. I'd heard that, barring a few special cases, no one scored B-rank or higher — so I'd figured I'd settle for a respectable C.
C-rank, my ass. I'd been handed an F, the rank they gave civilians. All because I hadn't "awakened."
Hero or not — none of it means a damn thing here.
I let out a long sigh and went through the registration process. Then I took the freshly printed registration card and trudged out to the car.
One way or another, I still needed a weapon for the dungeons. Even a former Hero couldn't fight barehanded, could he?
"Welcome!"
With the clerk's greeting, I stepped into a well-known equipment brand store and swept my eyes across the interior. Historical bestsellers like swords and bows, the staves every mage considered essential, firearms that had been gaining popularity of late — weapons of every kind, and gear of every description, lined the displays.
Still as flashy as ever.
Nakyeong had come here once to get her gear fitted, so the place didn't leave much of an impression on me.
"Looking for anything in particular?"
"I came to look at swords."
"Ah. A gift, perhaps?"
"No — for myself."
"Hmm…. Would you come this way?"
The clerk looked me up and down, then led me to a corner of wall packed tight with blades.
"As it happens, we're running a sale on swords right now."
"Oh…."
The wall was covered in swords of every dazzling, ornate design.
"You're fairly tall, so something about this size might suit you. Would you like to try holding it?"
The clerk plucked a sword from the wall with practiced ease and offered me the hilt. A polished gray blade with red accents. Judging by the slightly shorter length, it looked designed to work as both a one-handed and two-handed weapon.
"Hmm…."
I took the recommended sword and gave it a light grip.
Not bad.
Light enough that you almost forgot it was metal, with a grip that settled snugly into the hand. I flicked the blade with a fingertip — ting, ting — and it felt solid. The overall design was plain enough that I wouldn't tire of it easily.
…Except for the price. That was bad. Very bad.
I checked the tag hanging from the hilt and nearly laughed out loud.
Two-point-four million for this?
Granted, expensive weapons had always performed better — across every age and every country. With modern technology, that was truer than ever. But the price was still absurdly inflated.
"Do you have anything cheaper?"
"If this is a bit much…. What's your budget?"
The clerk took the sword back, still wearing that same polite smile, and asked about my price range.
"Around a hundred thousand won should be fine."
That was before he'd heard the number, of course.
"Ah…. A hundred thousand…."
A peculiar look crossed the clerk's face. He carefully returned the sword I'd just held to its display, then pointed toward a neglected corner of the blade section.
"We don't really have many products in that price range, you see."
And then — ding-dong — the door chimed open and a new customer walked in.
"Ah. Just a moment, please."
The clerk told me to take my time browsing, left me alone, and hurried over to the newcomer.
Oh. These prices are more reasonable.
Left to my own devices, I started looking through swords that actually fit my budget — when the new customer, apparently also shopping for a blade, was led over to the very sword I'd just been holding.
"This model is selling incredibly well right now."
Looking at it now, the intent to offload slow-moving inventory was pretty transparent.
"Whoa. It's so light!"
"It's made from a special material — the lightest model in its size class."
The customer holding the sword was a boy whose face still carried the softness of youth. Judging by the look of him, he was probably an Academy student like Nakyeong.
A first-year, maybe?
The thought of Nakyeong brought a faint smile to my lips.
"Son, do you like it?"
"Yeah! I love it!"
The mother-and-son pair — or so I assumed — went on to be shown several more models, starting with that one. The clerk stuck to them like glue, as if I no longer existed.
Fine by me.
Thanks to that, I finished browsing at my leisure, picked out a reasonably priced sword, and asked if I could try it out.
"You can use it in the back!"
The clerk pointed toward a demonstration room deeper inside the building. In other words: go swing it yourself.
"Hmm…."
I stepped into the demo room, set down my things, and gave the sword I'd picked a proper look. A broad blade forged into a thin diamond cross-section, a grip treated for anti-slip. The overall design was utterly ordinary, and compared to the earlier sword it was considerably heavier. But for actually being a sword, it was more than excellent.
A hundred and ten thousand won for this? Absolute steal.
Satisfied that I'd found a reasonably priced blade, I took hold of the sword and approached the practice dummy. The metal form, wrapped in slime with its core removed, was already covered in scratches — but the metal itself seemed quite hard. Almost no deep gouges were visible. Safe enough to swing with real force.
Twelve years, is it?
A strangely nostalgic feeling settled over me as I gripped the sword in both hands and settled into a stance for the first time in a long while. Even after all that time, nothing about it felt awkward.
As shallow as possible.
I tightened my grip and swung hard.
A clean, smooth sensation — and the slime sheathing the dummy split open. Then, with a soft slide, the metal core inside was sheared clean in half and began to tip over.
I'd misjudged my strength. It had been too long.
"Ah—"
Startled, I reached out belatedly to catch the dummy. But before my hand could get there, the slime tore the rest of the way, and the severed half crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.
"If you'd like to try it over he—"
A deep, resonant boom rolled through the demonstration room. The clerk, who had just stepped inside at that exact moment, took in the full picture: me standing there awkwardly, and the dummy cleaved neatly in two.
Unfortunately, the demonstration would not be continuing.
Fortunately, the matter of the dummy was resolved without any demand for compensation. In exchange, I left with a business card and a firm request that I come back next time to actually buy a weapon.
A big corporation, all right. They've got real generosity.
With my preparations more or less complete, I headed home in time for the evening — and that was when it happened.
"…Dad. What's this?"
Nakyeong had spotted the sword I'd bought.
"That? It's mine."
"…What?"
I hadn't planned on hiding it anyway, so I told her the truth. That after hearing about the temporary teaching position, I'd asked Choi Yeonjeong for a favor. Naturally, I left out every word about Cheon Seo-hui and the Hero business.
"She's got connections, after all. Yeonjeong said she'd help me out a bit."
"Then… that 'work thing' you mentioned before…"
"That's right. This is what it was about."
Nakyeong's eyes went round with surprise. Whoever she took after, even her startled face was adorable.
"Wait — then what about the company?"
"I quit."
"When…?"
"Today."
One bombshell after another left Nakyeong looking faintly shell-shocked. I'd expected her to be happy that we'd be going to the same place — but her reaction was oddly cool.
"Why…. Why didn't you tell me?"
She seemed more shaken by the fact that I'd gone ahead and done all of this behind her back.
Did I surprise her that much…?
Truth be told, I hadn't known how to bring it up with her either. She was still a student, after all. Our household ran entirely on my income — food, clothes, everything. For the sole breadwinner to suddenly take on a new challenge wasn't something you just casually accepted. Especially not for Nakyeong, who needed to focus on her studies.
That was why I hadn't told her in advance.
…Though it seemed Nakyeong saw things differently.
She looked at me with a seriousness I hadn't seen in a long time. Every time she made that face, I couldn't help thinking of my wife. The resemblance was so strong it startled me, even now.
"Dad."
Before long, Nakyeong spoke in a quiet voice.
"I think of myself as Mom's stand-in."
"…Nakyeong. This is…"
"I don't know how you feel about it, but that's how I think of it."
"…Okay…"
"From now on, I don't want you hiding things like this from me."
Faced with how deeply hurt she looked — far more than I'd expected — I found myself at a loss for words. And then Nakyeong spread her arms wide and demanded comfort in a sulky tone.
"…Hurry up and hug me and say you're sorry."
Just like my wife used to, ages ago, after some trivial argument.
— Just hug me and apologize already, you idiot.
"R-right…. Of course."
As if under a spell, I pulled her into a tight embrace.
"…I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
She hugged me back just as hard.
"You won't do it again, right?"
"Yeah…"
"I'm only letting this slide because I love you more."
"Of course you do."
"…Aren't you going to say you love me?"
"I love you. My daughter."
"Hee."
It genuinely felt as though my wife were the one in my arms.