Name Your Price

This was why you came into the Tower.

Fortunately, the door opened without a sound. I eased my head out.

"Grrk."

"Grrrrk."

Two zombies were asleep.

They didn't even wake. I'd made plenty of noise, and not so much as a twitch. The place must have been seriously soundproofed. Should I move somewhere with soundproofing like this? Maybe I actually could.

If an item came out of a C-grade security safe, it would be name-your-price. C-grade goods had never circulated in any real quantity. This might turn into the auction of the century.

For now, I shut the door again and explained the situation to Lee Junsung.

"There are two zombies outside."

"Then what do we do? Climb back down the rope?"

"What are you talking about? Two of them—we just take them."

"I-isn't that dangerous?"

Right now, there's nobody more dangerous than you.

"We'll take them one-on-one."

"What? You want me to catch them by myself?"

"Let's go."

"W-wait ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a second."

I ignored his attempt to stop me and stepped outside, then signaled to Junsung, who had only stuck his head out. He hesitated before moving in behind the zombies. It started the moment I brought the bat down.

Thwack!

"Kwek!"

"Ugh, damn it!"

Whack!

"Kugh!"

The beating was on.

"See? Not that hard, right?"

"R-right."

Honestly, anyone can drop a single zombie that isn't fighting back. That isn't what makes them frightening.

I smashed the door lock with the hammer—thunk, thunk, crack—and went in.

"Graaaaaah."

"Kwehh!"

From the floor below came the zombies' cries. With the door shut, though, they shuffled around for a while and wandered off.

Dumb bastards.

Zombies are stupid. Ones that react to a noise will stare blankly if whatever made it isn't standing right there, then simply turn around and leave. They can't reason that the source might have hidden, or moved. If we'd been spotted going into the house, they would have tried to break the door down.

Zombies handled.

Now I just had to find the safe.

"Start with that room over there. If you find a safe, call me."

"A safe? There's a safe in here?"

"There might be. There might not."

I left the smaller room to Junsung and searched the master bedroom myself.

"Oh, shit."

Right beside the thoroughly rotting bed sat a black safe that looked expensive at a glance. I hurried to open the Tower of Calamity app and scanned it.

"Nice!"

Fortunately, even the grade matched perfectly. A key and a safe don't strictly have to be the same rank—a C-grade key can still open a D-grade safe. The reverse doesn't work. And the key was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a one-use consumable. If this had been a D-grade safe, I would have hesitated to spend it.

"Heh heh heh heh."

The laugh came out wicked all on its own. What, exactly, was a C-grade safe going to give me?

"Hoo."

I steadied my breathing, eased the key in, and turned it half a rotation.

Clunk.

Another half turn.

Click.

The lock released.

Please. Something good. Something expensive. Something rare.

I pulled the door open, and a clear, jewel-bright light glittered out of the dark. I scanned the contents with the app.

I checked the names and tore through the descriptions hard enough to bloodshot my eyes.

The C-grade Black Void Backpack was a subspace bag—more capacity, less weight. The D-grade Echo Sonar Bike Helmet amplified outside sound and fed it straight to the wearer.

"Shit, nice!! So fucking nice!!! Hahaha!!"

A subspace backpack wasn't obscenely rare, as items went. But it cost more than any of them. Name your price. A blank check you could wear on your back.

Call them common if you like—how many subspace backpacks had actually made it out into the world? Next to the number of hunters, it was a drop in the bucket. A C-grade subspace backpack? Post that you meant to sell one, and the state might try to seize it. Too much chance it would leave the country. That was the kind of value this thing held.

The D-grade Echo Sonar Bike Helmet was a jackpot in its own right. Put on an ordinary bike helmet and you can barely hear a thing outside. This one turned the volume up. Inside the Tower, hearing trouble first mattered—a zombie's wet gurgle, another survivor's footsteps. The helmet caught every scrap of outside noise, sharp and clear. At D-grade, a Tier 1 zombie's attack wouldn't even leave a mark. It was, plain and simple, the armor best suited to staying alive.

The E-grade hand axe was excellent too. It would split a Tier 1 skull without any trouble, and with Sturdy sitting in the name, I probably didn't even have to baby it.

But how much is five hundred grams of gold?

All I knew was that the stuff was absurdly expensive.

Smaller than I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought, though. Yeah, it really ought to be over a kilo. Shame.

Complain any further and I'd have no conscience left. Souvenir. That's what it was.

"Jaeha, is something the matter?"

Lee Junsung came over from the small room he'd been searching.

"Ah. Yeah. Nothing."

For a second I wavered. Tell him, or don't. Brag, or don't. Yes, no, yes, no.

"I got an item."

I didn't want to hide it that badly. Wear new gear and it shows anyway.

"Oh! Congratulations!"

"Thank you."

Pure, uncomplicated congratulations, applause and all. Not a trace of disappointment. Not a glance checking whether some little extra might come his way.

Hmm. Should I give him something?

Nothing much I could spare on the spot. This, at least.

"Junsung, take this."

"Oh! You're really giving it to me? Weren't bags hard to come by?"

They were. We'd been farming all this time and hadn't seen so much as a bag-shaped object, which was why even an ordinary bag sold for more than a designer one.

"It's fine. I just got a new one."

"Ooh, thank you. I'll take good care of it."

I went back to admiring the C-grade Black Void Backpack. The design was exactly right, and the matte black finish made it look expensive without standing out. The fit was outstanding too—it sat flush against my back, and moving in it felt like nothing at all. It wasn't a large pack, so the space might have been a regret, but that same compactness meant it probably wouldn't get in the way of a fight.

The D-grade Echo Sonar Bike Helmet didn't lose on looks either. Matte black, the interior traced in red. Expensive-looking.

God, I am so satisfied. Heh heh heh.

I was grinning like an idiot when my eyes met Junsung's.

Hm. Awkward, maybe, since I was the only one walking away with the good stuff.

"If I find another item, I'll give it to you."

He smiled and waved me off.

"No, no."

"You don't have to refuse. Nothing's turned up yet, but still."

"I'm really all right."

What's this? Refuse that hard, and it starts to look suspicious. He isn't planning to crack me over the back of the head and loot the corpse, is he?

"I know I'm a burden. I do."

Ah. So that was it.

"Just having my life saved is already more than I deserve."

"We saved each other, didn't we?"

If Lee Junsung hadn't helped at the very start, it could have gone badly. I'd paid that back right away, but still.

"Haha. You think so?"

"I do. Let's finish farming. You never know—something good might drop."

"Yes."

Unfortunately, the fifth floor had nothing left but junk. A soda, if you were being generous.

"Drink the soda when you're worn out. The fatigue will clear fast."

"Sorry? It isn't even a fatigue drink."

"Things from the Tower are special."

"Oh? I see."

Small talk over, I opened the front door. Creeping down the stairs, I raised a fist. On the fourth floor, the two zombies that had come up earlier were asleep.

Time to test the hand axe.

I left Junsung on standby and went down alone. I brought the axe straight down.

Thud—

It bit deep into the skull. The thing didn't even manage a cry before it folded.

Insane!

I'd figured a one-handed weapon wouldn't finish them much faster than a wooden bat. The time to land the hit shouldn't have been that different.

It's way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sharper than I thought.

So this was why people wouldn't shut up about items.

"Krrk?"

A zombie a short distance off woke at the noise. It started to turn—tat-tat—and I chopped at the neck before it could finish.

Crack—

The head came clean off.

"Whoa, shit! That actually cut?"

Genuinely vicious. If anything, I was the one who needed to handle it carefully.

The hunters in the videos I'd watched almost never seemed to be wearing items. Or they had been, and I simply hadn't noticed. They'd never said so themselves. Only now did I understand why they'd kept it quiet. Show someone a treasure and greed follows—if people knew you were carrying items around, they might come after you.

"All clear. Let's search."

"Ah—yes."

I called to Junsung, who was standing there blank. Unit 401 had nothing worth mentioning. Unit 402, though, paid out decently.

"Oh! Something good came up."

"What is it?"

"Here."

What I handed him was a thick denim jacket.

"Oh!"

"It's sturdy enough to use as armor. Sell it to hunters and you'd get a fair price, too."

Denim jackets were popular for exactly that reason: you could layer them over other protection.

"I can really keep this?"

"Of course."

It wasn't an item, but it would help him stay alive right now.

"Thank you, Jaeha. I'll use it well."

"Yeah, yeah."

I meant to keep searching down to the third floor.

"This way's blocked?"

"Looks like it."

The stairs were choked with furniture—chairs, a desk, a wardrobe—as if someone had been trying to stop zombies from climbing.

No wonder there was a safe. You couldn't reach this place by any normal route.

The Tower had stretches blocked off like this fairly often. Clear the barricade and go down, and there probably wouldn't even be junk waiting.

Come to think of it, the first-floor veranda door was blocked too. I'd forgotten, climbing in a hurry.

"Let's head back to the station."

"The station?"

"Yeah. Time we got out."

And it was about time I parted ways with Lee Junsung.