Chapter 23: Forced into the C-Class Dungeon
“C-class? A C-class dungeon?!”
My voice echoed thunderously through the underground measurement room at Hunter Management Bureau headquarters.
I flung my gear bag to the floor and lunged forward, ready to grab the hem of the analysis team leader's pants if I had to.
“Team leader! You're joking, right?”
“I'm really F-class! The machine proved it!”
“We'll note that claim as well.”
The team leader didn't smile.
That made it even scarier.
My desperate pleas weren't being treated as a joke—they were being jotted down on paperwork like some variable to review.
“Excuse me! In a C-class dungeon, an F-class like me would die of a heart attack just locking eyes with a monster at the entrance! This isn't verification—it's a death sentence!”
“No need to worry.”
The team leader patted my shoulder reassuringly.
“The Bureau wouldn't mishandle a valuable talent like you. Just in case, we've assigned a veteran C-class party of national representative caliber as backup for tomorrow's dungeon run. You just porter as usual from the back, and let us observe.”
The words let us observe you sent chills racing down my spine.
I racked my brain for any way to escape.
“N-no! Backup or not, I'm not going! I have a shift covering at the convenience store tomorrow—my schedule's packed!”
“Hunter Kang Minsu.”
The team leader's voice dropped an octave.
His kindly smile vanished, replaced by the icy pressure unique to high-ranking Bureau officials.
“This isn't a request. It's an official compulsory assignment from the Hunter Management Bureau. Refusal without just cause means immediate and permanent revocation of your hunter license.”
“Pardon...?”
“License revocation also allows full seizure of all earnings from your dungeon runs to date. That's all you need to know.”
My breath caught in my throat.
The Bureau's capitalist threats crushed my feeble rebellion in an instant.
Without that license, who would pay Mom's nursing home bills next month?
“......What time should I arrive?”
“9 a.m. tomorrow. The C-class dungeon Crimson Nest in Sector 2.”
Only then did the team leader flash a satisfied smile and hand me the summons order.
With trembling hands like a lamb headed to slaughter, I signed the paper and fled the Bureau building.
That night.
I lay on my bed in my cramped, dark room, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Haa......”
A deep sigh escaped me.
Outside the window, only the occasional car passed; the room was deathly quiet.
But the blue window floating in the corner of my vision was boiling over more wildly as the night deepened.
[Current Viewers: 13,901]
[Current Viewers: 14,550]
[Current Viewers: 15,241]
Viewership had skyrocketed past 10,000 and kept climbing.
Word of my forced assignment to a C-class dungeon must have already spread somewhere online.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin and curled into a ball. Come morning, I'd be dragged into that horrific C-class hell.
A real slaughterhouse, leagues beyond E- or D-class. Even hiding in the back with just the luggage, one AoE from the boss monster would vaporize an F-class like me without a trace.
“I'm really gonna die tomorrow, aren't I......”
With shaking hands, I grabbed my smartphone and searched for C-class dungeon survival rates.
One death notice article made me dry-heave. Should I write a will?
Unlike my despair, the chat was in full party mode.
“Meditation my ass...... I'm just too scared to sleep.”
I scowled at the screen, trying to swipe it away, but the system window wouldn't budge.
Instead, the hype and excitement from fifteen thousand viewers filled my tiny room, pressing down on the air like a weight.
My chest tightened, breathing grew labored—that weird discomfort.
Is this all because of those viewers?
I was starting to get it. The hotter the chat got, the more viewers piled in, the stickier and heavier the air around me became.
But I still couldn't accept it as some physical force radiating from me. Even after seeing the system messages, I wanted to believe a stuffy room just needed ventilating first.
“I won't actually die tomorrow...... right?”
I spent the night buried under the covers, sweating coldly, not sleeping a wink. Dawn broke with me looking like a corpse in the mirror.
Sunken eyes, ghostly pale skin without a drop of color, cracked dry lips. Anyone would think I'd just negotiated with the Grim Reaper before entering a dungeon.
8:40 a.m.
In front of the Crimson Nest gate in Sector 2.
“Huff...... pant......”
Backpack slung over my shoulder, I stood rigid before the gate, gasping for air.
The massive swirling blue vortex was on another level from any E- or D-class gate I'd seen.
The fishy stench of blood wafting from beyond it, the bone-chilling murderous mana pricking my skin like needles.
Scary...... Just looking at it feels like death.
My legs gave out completely; I couldn't move forward. Frozen stiff before the gate, I trembled, barely breathing.
Terror so intense my heart felt like it would leap from my chest. I wanted to collapse and sob.
But my extreme fear looked entirely different to the 18,000+ viewers.
[Viewers shudder at the killing intent you're emanating.]
[Current Viewers: 18,502]
Vwooom—!
The moment my terror fused with the viewers' mad faith.
The air before the gate screamed as it split open.
The air sank first. Cold sweat beaded on my nape, a metallic tang spread on my tongue.
Nearby dust pressed low to the ground, my breaths sounded unnaturally loud. The chatter of waiting hunters cut off abruptly. A porter polishing his weapon dropped his whetstone.
A massive shield-bearing tank clutched his chest, gasping.
I had no idea why everyone went silent, just glanced around nervously.
Why's everyone quiet? Am I shaking too pathetically in front of the gate? They gonna curse me out?
That's when heavy footsteps approached from behind.
“Are you...... Hunter Kang Minsu, by any chance?”
A low, thick voice laced with obvious tension.
I whipped around in shock.
Before me stood four hunters geared head-to-toe in top-tier equipment.
Silver badges on their chests. Definitely the Bureau's boasted veteran C-class party.
But their faces weren't those of relaxed powerhouses here to back me up.
The leader swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly.
Even coming to greet me, he couldn't lift his gaze first. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he endured the sticky C+-class killing intent pouring from me.
“We got the call from the Bureau. 'Steel Escort' party, assigned as backup for this Crimson Nest raid.”
Seeing these reliable folks, relief and grievance exploded in me. Please save me. Stick right behind and keep monsters away.
I wanted to beg, but my hollow, menacing glare and deathly pale face from the sleepless night sent a totally different message.
“We'll be in your care today...... We swear not to hinder your path even once.”
The leader bowed 90 degrees to me.
The three members behind him snapped crisp salutes in unison.
Like subordinates pledging loyalty to their warlord—polite, resolute.
I gripped my backpack strap with trembling hands.
I had no clue why they were bowing so low to me.
Only one thought filled my head.
Will I...... make it home alive today?