No. 388 Feathered Serpent Altar (5)

Fwoosh—CRACK—!!

As if a flashbang had gone off, my vision flooded white.

Even after the light had faded, Go Hyeon-woo and Seo Ye-in stayed dazed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a good while. This sort of thing was rare enough that I felt a little flustered myself. I gathered my wits and checked what item had come out.

A bulky cushion with a plain, bare-bones design. Unfortunately, it was a daily-life item, same category as the wooden cup Go Hyeon-woo had pulled a moment ago. Its grade, however, was anything but ordinary.

A cushion, of all things... and it's B-rank?

Pulling a C- or B-rank item from a D-rank random box was technically possible, but the odds were so abysmally low you might as well call it impossible. And yet Seo Ye-in had punched straight through those miracle odds and drawn this cushion.

B-rank was a grade typically worn by third-years — the same rarefied tier as the Transparent Ghillie Suit Seo Ye-in used or the Cloud Walker she'd been gifted a while back. Matching such treasured equipment in grade meant the cushion's value was roughly on par. As if to prove the point, it came absolutely plastered with options.

Put simply, the fatigue-recovery acceleration meant one hour of sleep dispelled two hours' worth of fatigue. The mental-ailment cure and resistance boost were just as substantial. Beyond those, it was stuffed to the brim with effects that aided restful sleep — insomnia relief, help for a herniated neck disc, and so on. In terms of raw performance alone, I'd have to say it rivaled the gear that dropped in the Deep Layer dungeons...

Shame it's something you use while sleeping.

The options on daily-life items were all tuned toward "a comfortable, prosperous life." I was an extreme efficiency hound who prized combat and growth above all else, so about half of them were of little use to me. I also spent most of my free time at the Training Center, which left few opportunities to use a cushion anyway.

Granted, judged purely on its combat- and growth-related options, it would still help. But wouldn't it be more useful to sell it off and secure a different item instead? A B-rank daily-life piece would draw no shortage of buyers.

Hand it over to the Errand Center, or put it up for auction?

While I was turning it over from every angle, I glanced at Seo Ye-in —

"..."

She was staring holes through the cushion. Expressionless as ever, but her pale gray eyes were sparkling. One look was enough to tell she wanted it badly.

"Want it?"

"..."

When I asked just to make sure, she nodded immediately. Her reactions usually came half a beat late, so an instant response like this was remarkable. Such was the power of a cushion?

Setting aside sentimental notions like "because we're friends!", I rattled the calculator in my head. The single most important question was this: was it better to sell the thing, or better to give it to her?

Handing it over might actually be the better deal.

I had no way of knowing how many hours a day Seo Ye-in slept, but that she slept a lot was beyond doubt. With the cushion's fatigue-recovery acceleration, she could shave a fair chunk off her rest time. Better rest efficiency meant more waking hours, which — viewed broadly — should translate into more training time. Of course, there was a very real possibility it would change nothing at all.

Still worth the gamble, though.

Considering the surplus time we stood to gain if it worked, a B-rank daily-life item was a perfectly fair price to pay. Having thought it through, I slid the cushion toward Seo Ye-in.

"Here. It's yours."

"Really?"

Whether she couldn't quite believe I'd hand it over so readily, or simply wasn't used to receiving things from people, she looked half-doubtful. I simply picked the cushion up and tucked it into her arms.

"Yup. A gift."

"...Thank you."

Seo Ye-in gazed down at the cushion in her arms without a word for a moment, then hugged it tight.

With the conquest battles wrapped up in one clean sweep starting Monday, the rest of my time was mine to pour entirely into training.

The E-rank Rank Up that had come out of the random box went toward raising Amplification. With its short duration and long cooldown, it was a skill I could only afford at truly decisive moments — but pushing its ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grade higher would free me from those shackles.

Next came the trait I'd copied from the Feathered Serpent High Priest: Priest. The first reason I'd made it a priority was precisely its boost to mana sensitivity. It applied a favorable correction to every act of magic, and above all it accelerated the rate at which I built my Core.

The related item, the Priest's Black Bracelet, carried an effect that multiplied that mana sensitivity. Stack the Black Mithril Band I'd obtained earlier on top of it, and while the result fell short of a Special Training Room, the efficiency was more than satisfying.

At this rate, I'll ride it all the way to C-rank.

As the level of my skills climbed, a D-rank Core was gradually becoming insufficient. It needed to move up a stage, or I'd find myself gasping from mana shortages mid-battle. I intended to settle it within a few days — before we set foot in the Deep Layer dungeons. And so I threw myself into mana cultivation until dusk fell and dawn broke once more.

The next day, after class, Shin Byung-cheol came looking for me. The reason needed no guessing.

"Hey, about that deep-layer dungeon from before."

"What happened with it?"

Shin Byung-cheol looked distinctly awkward.

"Well, it's sort of... things have gotten complicated. Boss Lady wants a word with you."

"Sure, why not. Right now?"

"Right now works great."

"Let's head over, then."

And so I found myself back at the Thief Club room with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Shin Byung-cheol in tow. Secondhand furniture had multiplied yet again — who knew where he kept scavenging it all from — and the decor had grown even more haphazard than before. The room being packed with members only added to the clutter. The atmosphere sat closer to a tavern than a club room: on the sofa with its peeling leather, a crowd of guys including the twins sat hunched over a card game, while the girl with the tablet hammered busily away at her screen in one corner.

And there perched Dang Gyu-young, on the same wooden table and in the same pose as last time. It was the posture of an idler with nothing to do, yet a peculiar charisma radiated off her. Sensing our presence, her black eyes slid slowly toward us — and at that very moment, Shin Byung-cheol announced us.

"Boss Lady, I've brought him."

"Oh, hey. You made it."

Dang Gyu-young had started to greet me warmly, then caught herself and fixed her expression, mindful of the eyes around us. One of the twins tore his gaze from his cards and gave my face an appraising once-over.

"So this is the one, is it? The junior you've been 'working on' lately, Boss Lady?"

The "working on" he meant was recruiting me into the Thief Club — the offer that had come after our break-in at the Temporary Confiscation Storage. It was true as far as it went, but she evidently disliked the phrasing; Dang Gyu-young's brow knitted.

"'Working on'? Watch your word choice."

"Ah, my apologies — how unbecoming of me. After all, you went a proper round with the Magic Engineering Club yourself over him, telling them to keep their hands off your junior."

The other twin drove in the follow-up. "Exactly. When Senior Bong Jaeseok got taken down a peg, I was delighted — that side of you, Boss Lady, was a first in all my born da—"

But their words got no further. Enormous shadow grips surged up from below and clamped down hard over their faces. The Iron Claw landed, good and proper.

Krrrk-krrrk-krrrk—

A sound rather too vicious to be coming from human skulls rang out, and the squirming twins went limp. The shadow hand extended its index finger and pointed at the door.

"Everyone out."

The Thief Club members rose from their seats in a scramble. The tablet girl made to leave with them, but Dang Gyu-young called her back.

"Da-bin, you stay. Byung-cheol too."

The club room went quiet in an instant. The shadow hand drew out a chair near me, and once I'd settled into it comfortably, Dang Gyu-young gave a small cough before speaking.

"Ahem, ahem. Pay no mind to what you just heard."

"Of course, senior."

"...Mind it a little."

"I'll give it some thought."

At my diplomatic answer, Dang Gyu-young's lips pushed out into a pout. She might have been hoping for something along the lines of, Actually, I've dreamed of joining the Thief Club for ages! Needless to say, fat chance of that. I moved straight to business.

"I hear things have gotten complicated."

"Yeah, a problem's come up. An external one."

Before haggling over specifics like the dungeon run or my payment, the first order of business was whether she could even take the commission. And without resolving the "external problem" she mentioned, the deal wouldn't happen. If it was an external problem tied to the underground floors, the odds were nine in ten it was—

"A bidding issue, I take it."

"That's right."

"Regular bidding, or priority?"

"Priority."

Bidding. Once a dungeon's core was destroyed, entry became impossible until it regenerated over time — the portal turning gray and sealing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠itself after Go Hyeon-woo and I cleared the Feathered Snake Altar was a case in point. The number of people who could challenge a given dungeon within a single cycle was therefore limited, and dungeons with good drops drew competition without fail. To settle that competition peacefully, Dragon Slayer Academy had adopted the bidding system: it compiled data on each bidding party's combat strength, past clear record, estimated clear time, and so forth, then ranked the parties in order of suitability.

That was ordinary bidding. On top of that, each club held a set number of Priority Bidding Rights. Just as a Crafting VIP Ticket let you leap the queue and place a crafting commission at the very front, a Priority Bidding Right brushed aside every condition and granted the first claim on a dungeon. And right now, one such right was staked on the Black Snake Chamber.

A priority right meant that club held sway over the dungeon. And if we barged in anyway, ignoring it? That would amount to announcing we wanted a fight. Conflict would be all but guaranteed. Which was why clients tended to steer clear of such dungeons where possible — and why the Thief Club had called me in, to sound out my intentions first.

"So what'll it be? Want me to scout out somewhere else for you?"

The trouble was that right now, I needed the Black Snake Chamber cleared, badly — or to be exact, a certain reward that could only be obtained there. Waiting for the next opening wasn't realistic: dungeons saturated with vast energy, Deep Layer ones above all, took an age to regenerate once their core was destroyed. And the other dungeons that dropped comparable rewards sat on a whole different plane of difficulty.

So I made my position plain — I was prepared to clash with the club in question if it came to that.

"No. I want to push through."

Dang Gyu-young's brow creased faintly.

"You want me to force our way in even with a Priority Bidding Right hanging over it?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"..."

Ordinarily she preferred to sidestep such affairs, but with sufficient compensation, refusing wasn't strictly necessary. I'd already demonstrated I could pay handsomely. Even so, Dang Gyu-young still looked unconvinced — and that could only imply one thing. The faction that had staked the priority bid was a power large enough to give even the Thief Club pause.

I asked again.

"Which club is it?"

"...A fairly big one."

Her answer left me no choice but to nod along.

"The Swordsmanship Club."

...Yeah. They were big, all right.

[67] The Support Eats It All