The Deep Layer (2)

The iron puppet lunged, fist extended, and Go Hyeon-woo charged in to meet it, sweeping the talisman sword in his hand through the air.

For an instant, a golden arc traced itself across the empty space—

Clang—!

Fist and blade collided, and the iron puppet gave back half a step. Riding the momentum, Go Hyeon-woo pressed in fast and hammered a blow down onto the puppet's head.

Clang—!

The puppet's body swayed sideways and toppled. Another came at him whirling a long iron rod, and Go Hyeon-woo channeled his internal energy into the blade before driving a fierce thrust into its neck.

Krak!

The puppet went tumbling backward and rolled across the floor. Go Hyeon-woo traced a few light arcs through the air with his talisman sword.

'I've grown quite accustomed to it.'

The length and heft of it differed so much from his iron sword that it had felt awkward at first, but several days of sparring against the iron puppets had restored the feel. By now, he could carry it into a real battle without the slightest trouble.

When he checked the time, it was already morning. Once again he had passed the night at the Training Center, faithful to his custom. There was still ample time before class, so he could put in some mana cultivation in the Special Training Room and then head off to lessons — though first, he ought to take at least a light meal. Today's breakfast menu would be, as ever, a calorie bar or an Inedia Pill.

Except...

Rummaging through his subspace, Go Hyeon-woo drew his brows together.

'An oversight on my part.'

Inedia Pills, calorie bars — every last one of them, gone. He had been busy with any number of matters of late and had clean forgotten to restock. Important as training was, meals were never to be skipped; when the body's balance crumbled, one's skill was sure to crumble alongside it.

'It seems I shall take a proper breakfast for the first time in an age. A genuine morning meal — not some calorie bar.'

Ever since he had come down from the mountain and enrolled at the Dragon Slayer Academy, an appreciation for good food had always occupied a corner of Go Hyeon-woo's heart. But cultivating his skill and fulfilling his sect's long-cherished ambition had come first, and so, however wistful, he had endured and done without. Yet with his subspace emptied out as it now was, it could do no harm to enjoy a proper meal while he was at the student cafeteria restocking his calorie bars besides.

With his spirits somewhat lifted, Go Hyeon-woo set out of the Training Center.

Outside, just ahead, he spied Kim Ho walking on before him. He, too, appeared to have trained through the night. Go Hyeon-woo closed the distance first and offered his greeting.

"Good morning, Brother Kim."

"You're out early. Don't you usually come out later than this?"

"I came to take breakfast, you see."

"Well, that's a rare thing for you. Come on, walk with me."

As the two of them made their way along, Go Hyeon-woo tossed out a question that had occurred to him.

"Is Miss Seo not with you today?"

Kim Ho and Seo Ye-in were practically joined at the hip every single day, so surely this morning's breakfast would be taken together as well.

That was why he had asked — and yet—

"Says she already ate."

Kim Ho tilted his head as though he found it surprising himself, then showed the messages he had exchanged with Seo Ye-in.

"Miss Seo, awake this early? Now that is remarkable."

Go Hyeon-woo tilted his head in turn. For Seo Ye-in to rise early was about as rare an event as him walking all the way to the student cafeteria for breakfast. But Kim Ho soon shrugged as if it were nothing at all.

"She'll be in the classroom. Come on, let's eat."

The breakfast menu was the king-sized triangle gimbap — a seaweed-wrapped rice triangle several times the size of the ordinary kind — packed to bursting with a whole fistful of meat. For Go Hyeon-woo, it was a veritable godsend.

'What fine luck...'

The two young men held their efficiency in equal regard, so they ate their gimbaps on the move toward the classroom, and by the time they arrived, both were cleanly empty-handed.

Sure enough, when they reached Class 3, Seo Ye-in had beaten them to school and was waiting. In her hand she held a familiar paper bag, and at the same moment a rich, buttery scent brushed the tip of Go Hyeon-woo's nose.

'Cookies.'

So that was why she had eaten breakfast separately. She must have risen before dawn to bake them. Nor was the reason hard to guess: Kim Ho had given her that thing — pillow or cushion, no one could quite say — fished from a random box the other day, and this appeared to be her own way of saying thank you.

'Splendid, oh splendid.'

A contented smile settled on Go Hyeon-woo's lips as he watched the two of them. Contentment, however, was brief.

The instant Kim Ho raised a cookie to his mouth, Seo Ye-in quietly caught his hand. Then she looked up at him and asked,

"What does this look like?"

"...!"

'That question!'

Go Hyeon-woo hoisted an alarm flag in his mind. For it summoned the memory of the day that very question had flown at him—

He had answered without a second thought at the time, but looking back, it had been a grievously wrong answer — for he had then been treated to the sight of the ever-expressionless Seo Ye-in's brow giving the faintest twitch. The consequence: to this day, far from a whole cookie, not so much as a crumb came his way.

What was done could not be undone. The problem was that a second round was now underway — and depending on how this round went, Kim Ho too might well meet the same fate he had.

'That alone I must prevent.'

Go Hyeon-woo poured his inner power into his very eyes as he studied the cookie. A chocolate-chip cookie. The chips were embedded in perfect evenness — in taste, one could call it a genuine advance on last time. In appearance, however, it felt like a decided step backward.

'Truly a form of inscrutable mystery...'

Its nearest resemblance, if forced to choose: a fish? Or a rabbit curled up tight? One of the two. But which of them? He could not say with any certainty.

"..."

Kim Ho, apparently thinking along the same lines, was in no hurry to part his lips either. But this could not be dragged out forever. To hold to silence in this situation amounted to declaring I haven't the faintest idea, and that was as good as a wrong answer. In effect, a time limit had been set.

"..."

As the answer failed to come, Seo Ye-in's face began to darken, little by little. Her eyes had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠narrowed ever so slightly, past the point of easy reading.

'Now — now is the moment to step in.'

Just as Kim Ho was opening his mouth with great reluctance, Go Hyeon-woo wedged himself between the pair, pointedly 'oblivious.'

"Ahem. Why, the fish has quite a lively air about it. As if it were only just hauled up out of a lake."

Then he stole a sidelong glance at Seo Ye-in's reaction — and there it was, the faintest twitch of her brow.

Wrong answer.

Which left exactly one correct answer remaining.

"It's a rabbit, right?"

"...!"

Seo Ye-in's face brightened brilliantly once more. Kim Ho, looking for all the world as though he had never agonized for a single second, very naturally slipped the cookie into his mouth and savored it.

"Tasty. You've gotten even better."

"Have more."

No sooner had he dispatched one cookie than Seo Ye-in was pressing the next between his lips. Go Hyeon-woo, for his part, was granted not so much as a crumb — nor ever would be — but he had no regrets.

'A sacrifice more than worth the making.'

The cookie-shape guessing challenge passed without incident, thanks to Go Hyeon-woo's well-timed intervention. This is something I often notice, but his instinct for reading a room is anything but ordinary either. This time we simply got lucky, though — and for as long as Seo Ye-in's warped aesthetic sense keeps finding expression, a third round, a fourth, could break out at any moment. I would need to steel my heart accordingly.

Apart from that, nothing special happened, and the days flowed on until Friday. I dashed off the report for the 2-on-2 PvP assessment in a single unbroken sitting, and the dungeon-map assignment for the conquest battle I drew up in no time flat and submitted. From here on, I intended to pocket near-perfect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠marks on every written portion.

And the result of spending every remaining hour holed up in the Training Center:

Right on schedule for Friday, I had raised my Core's grade by a full rank. That secured me more than enough mana to avoid falling short in a deep-layer dungeon. Every preparation I could make, I had made. If I could just obtain the reward I wanted from [Black Snake Gang]—

'At last, a weapon worthy of the name.'

I took out the [Iron Rod of Levitation] I'd had made at the First Workshop a while back. For all the sophistication of its components, the metal forming the rod itself was low-grade stuff, so it had never rated higher than E-rank — and for that reason, it had yet to see any real action. When I fed a wisp of mana into it, a faint updraft lifted my bangs and vanished, as if the rod were protesting that I hurry up and find it a proper body.

'Just wait a little longer.'

I would forge you anew from the finest metal there is.

Friday night. Near the Dungeon Hall, I met up with the Thieves Club members and Go Hyeon-woo.

Dang Gyu-young gave us a quick once-over, said, "Everyone here? Let's move out," and strolled nonchalantly to the front.

Go Hyeon-woo's expression shifted strangely, and he tilted his head. The look he aimed at me might as well have asked outright: 'Have you not forgotten something?'

On Monday I had swapped out my necktie pin and worn the Anonymous Badge; today I carried nothing of the sort, so no doubt my preparations seemed wanting. And today of all days we were bound for the Dungeon Hall's deep layer — about as dangerous a place as they come.

Rather than launch into a lengthy explanation, I tipped my chin toward the thieves taking point.

'Just keep watching.'

Whatever their other failings, these people were always meticulous where a commission was concerned. Trust built that way was what brought in the next job — and a commission that the Thieves Club president handled personally was hardly going to be botched. As the clients, all we had to do was follow along with easy minds and no needless fretting.

Still, if I had to answer Go Hyeon-woo's question in brief: 'Clumsy eye-tricks don't work down there.'

Did anyone imagine a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mere Anonymous Badge would fool the seasoned masters who made the deep layer their home? Besides, disguises like that existed mostly as insurance against running into someone on the way down. And if I was confident we would cross paths with no one at all? Then there was no need for one in the first place.

As if to certify that very confidence, Dang Gyu-young showed her hand the moment we set foot in the underground floors. The shadows at our feet rippled and shivered, and a handful of small black butterflies rose into the air.

Flapping their tiny wings for all they were worth, the butterflies slipped from sight — under the spiral staircase, beyond the mouths of corridors. Tracing the flight paths of her shadow butterflies, Dang Gyu-young led the party onward, halting now and again or veering in a new direction, all the while conjuring more butterflies and scattering them far and wide.

Scouts. Send the shadow butterflies on ahead, and if anyone tripped one, she would simply lead the party a wide circle around. Because these scouts were crafted with the art concentrated to its absolute limit, they could read conditions at distances far beyond ordinary detection-type magic. Nor was that all — the butterflies moved so stealthily that the odds of the patrolling Disciplinary Committee spotting them were vanishingly small. Unless one were a master on Dang Gyu-young's own level, they would likely never be caught.

Chae Da-bin was giving full play to her own talents as well. From the moment we set foot on the spiral staircase her hands had not rested once, drumming away at her tablet — and whether thanks to that or not, not a single one of the crystal balls ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or security devices installed along our route stirred to life.

With the two seniors guiding the way, there was hardly any need for a long trek. The moment Dang Gyu-young brought the party to a halt before an elevator, Shin Byung-cheol darted in, fiddled with a few of the fixtures, and Chae Da-bin worked her tablet — whereupon the elevator started up of its own accord, without a single student ID being tapped. We rode it down a long stretch, then followed Dang Gyu-young's lead to the next elevator; a few repetitions of that, and we had covered an enormous distance in hardly any time. Unthinkable, back in the days of trudging along in Shin Byung-cheol's wake.

'Nearly there.'

The final elevator set us down near the threshold of the deep layer, where the C-rank dungeons gathered. An elevator running straight into the deep layer carried far too high a chance of detection, so the plan had been to walk in from the C-rank level.

"..."

The closer we drew to the boundary between the Dungeon Hall's lower floors and the deep layer, the more taut everyone gradually became. Even Dang Gyu-young, easygoing from start to finish, now wore a distinctly grave expression. She recalled every last shadow butterfly she had deployed. However stealthy they might be, some sliver of a chance of detection remained — and that sliver alone could put the entire deep layer on high alert. From here on, it was better not to send them out at all.

We took the stairs with footsteps markedly more careful than any we had yet set down.

And at last, we crossed the threshold into the deep layer.

— Next Episode: The Support Ate It All —