“By the way — you’re not disappearing right away today!”
He’d only ever seen the wandering merchant vanish to the blue room, so Hwang Gyu-beom commented.
Come to think of it — it had been a while since he’d entered Hwang Gyu-beom’s floor.
“These days I have a bit more time. Before, I always had somewhere to be right after.”
He couldn’t exactly say I stopped getting pulled to Ragcho’s room immediately.
As previously noted — Tower Merchants might not lie, but wandering merchants did.
“Excellent! This way we can actually have a proper chat!”
Hwang Gyu-beom laughed for a moment, then settled comfortably onto the floor.
Woo-joo sat down next to him.
In the past he’d always made an effort to stay standing upright, careful not to look too human.
The concern being: would an NPC sitting around too naturally look suspicious?
Not anymore.
Ragcho sat, lay down, and sometimes even stood up on two legs in the most endearing way possible.
“By the way, wandering merchant!”
“Yes.”
“Are you Korean?”
“Sorry?”
Woo-joo tilted his head, and Hwang Gyu-beom continued.
“You’ve been appearing for a while now, and all the reports say it’s only in Korea. And you speak Korean!”
“I suppose the system settings are on Korean.”
“So you’d never appear in other countries’ Towers?”
“That’s under system restrictions — can’t say.”
He invoked system restrictions — the phrase Ragcho pulled out whenever something was uncomfortable to answer.
Now that he thought about it, things had been quiet overseas lately.
Up until a few days ago, the news had been full of stories about America, China, and India taking issue with Korea supposedly monopolizing the wandering merchant rabbit — but the content had all been so copy-pasted that he’d been tuning it out. Even the Association director’s closing line about currently conducting our own investigation — he hadn’t heard that in a few days.
Probably because of the Special Floor. Not a good kind of quiet — more like the calm before a storm.
The Special Floor was less a competition between individuals within a country and more a nation-versus-nation affair.
And the reason first place mattered was the Tower effect applied to that country.
Just look at Korea this month.
15% Tower reward increase for an entire month.
Seo I-an’s Hidden Dungeon had technically been classified as Foreign so the 15% didn’t apply there — but still, the benefit was enormous.
Other countries’ mouths had to be itching to talk about Kim Woo-joo who had shown up out of nowhere in the Special Floor.
The Seo I-an Hidden Dungeon announcement had been a world announcement, hadn’t it.
Seo I-an — who had apparently swept up every possible first-ever title the Hidden Dungeon had to offer.
Not only did her name appear at the top of the Special Floor for the first time, a Hidden Dungeon also detonated in Korea? And the rabbit was still only appearing in Korea?
There was no way that could generate favorable commentary.
People were always pleased to see a neighbor fail — let alone prosper. Human envy at someone else’s fortune exceeded anything you could imagine.
And if the fortune in question involved not just one lucky break but a cascade of them?
The feeling would go beyond a stomachache. It might actually feel like being torn apart.
And they’ll feel it again next month when the Special Floor season comes around.
Oh Won-taek had asked for one thing: maintaining the Korean Special Floor ranking.
Technically he’d said top three — but if he was going to do it, first was obviously better.
It was a matter of pride, if nothing else.
Moving from third to second felt like an achievement. Moving from first to second felt like a fall.
Which was why, at least until the next Special Floor season, he was planning to run domestic Towers exclusively.
Foreign Towers? Unless some specific reason came up — probably not.
He’d have his hands full leveling his team members, and on top of that, working on developing Korea’s A-rank and above Awakened.
The breeze was starting to carry a hint of coolness — autumn wasn’t far off.
When the sun went down, the chill even raised goosebumps. Cold enough to feel it.
How did he know this, being the homebody he was?
Any particular reason needed?
He was outside. Well — briefly outside, and now inside a café.
Not an open, bustling kind of café. The kind with individual rooms separated by partitions, with an old-fashioned feel.
“Woo-joo!”
A gender-neutral voice cut through the quiet.
He’d been sitting at the table with two vanilla lattes in front of him, staring at them like an offering at a shrine — he looked up toward the voice.
She looked too well.
Eyes bright and full of life — the exact look she had every time she encountered the rabbit in a Tower.
Maybe that was why something welled up in him a little.
“You’re here already.”
“Does Awakened Seo I-an not have any awareness of being 44 minutes late?”
The textbook answer in this situation was I just arrived myself with a measured smile.
But today?
He’d been here 10 minutes early.
She was exactly 44 minutes late.
The mood was a little soured — it almost felt like she was saying no to the contract by circling around it.
They’d covered all of this that day, hadn’t they?
He’d already told Oh Won-taek he’d secured Seo I-an as a team member.
“Sorry. A little delayed. There was an accident.”
He’d pushed back slightly, and she scratched the back of her head apologetically.
Now he felt like he’d said something unnecessarily harsh.
And as if to confirm this wasn’t an excuse, she settled casually across from him and held out her phone — a photo.
In it: something that looked like yellow and black rubber clay, swirled together into a lump of scrap metal.
“What’s this?”
“My beloved Ferrari. Gone now. Just happened.”
The tone of someone describing someone else’s problem.
And this was a bit of an accident?
Had the dictionary definition of a bit changed without his knowledge?
“What did you hit for the car to end up like that?”
“A dump truck.”
His own blue sports car — the one he still hadn’t driven.
Should he swap it for a dump truck? Or at least a sturdy-looking SUV?
This was a moment of profound deliberation.
But something even more pressing.
“Are you okay?”
With the car in that state?
A person, who was softer than steel?
“What? As you can see? I bit down right away.”
She pulled her lip slightly to one side and showed him her back teeth.
Same as doping in the Tower — a capsule recovery potion sat wedged between her molar and gum.
“Unfortunate that you weren’t there this time — had to survive on my own.”
“Are you blaming me for that?”
“Obviously not.”
“By the way — you’re wearing a capsule potion in real life? What for?”
“Not just me — I’d guess most A-rank and above wear them when they go out. We didn’t used to, but recently the scouts have been getting rough.”
“Wow. But these work? In real life you don’t have Tower stats applied.”
“Try being targeted by scouts. You might think it can’t happen to you — but in the moment, trained or not, you just bite. I’m so grateful Korea doesn’t allow private gun ownership.”
She said that and gave a small shudder, as if a chill had run through her, then picked up the iced vanilla latte from the table.
“Is this mine?”
“Yes. And this too.”
He handed back her phone — which had ended up with him, not entirely on purpose.
“Oh, fully charged. Wonderful!”
She seemed happy to be reunited with it after the long separation — turning it over and over.
“If I sign the contract, can I keep getting charged in the Tower from now on?”
“Of course. Anyway — the contract terms are the same as what I outlined before.”
He placed the documents he’d prepared on the table.
His obligation: when his team members sought him out inside a Tower, he’d make them his top priority. In other words — wrap up whatever he was doing quickly and get to them.
The team members’ obligation:
When acting as a team — follow his directions unconditionally.
And specifically for Seo I-an — a clause providing him with EXP potions had been added.
She read through the contract carefully, then glanced up at him.
“If there’s anything you’re unhappy with, say it now.”
“As if.”
……Why was she being so agreeable?
Brief puzzlement — then a likely explanation surfaced.
“By the way — don’t you need to see a doctor?”
The car accident aftermath was obvious.
A car had been totaled. The person inside it?
Even if she looked fine on the outside, something internal had to be off.
“I bit down on a high-grade recovery potion. I’m fine. And if something were wrong I’d have gone myself. But I have a question.”
“Ask away.”
“Following directions unconditionally — does that mean if you tell me to die, I die?”
Seo I-an laughed like she was joking, but he felt genuinely aggrieved.
“What? That came out of nowhere. Why would I send a valued team member into a burning building? I’d never ask anything dangerous!”
He said it firmly.
Because he was confident in it.
Not that he was particularly experienced — but the Special Strategy Team dealt with the Special Floor, and in the Special Floor you couldn’t die. The boss was frustrating because it resisted damage, but it wasn’t lethal.
His commands would amount to things like target-switching for damage distribution, or priority decisions for efficient clears.
Not sacrifice yourself. Not even close.
“Oh? But I’m actually pretty good at that.”
“At what?”
“Running into burning buildings.”
“Pardon?”
“Veteran of it. Hehehe!”
That sounded deranged for a second, but listening further — before she’d Awakened, Seo I-an had been a firefighter.
He saw her differently.
The fiery personality — maybe that was a defensive instinct formed by constant exposure to danger?
With that frame in place, her every behavior suddenly started making a kind of sense.
“Look — that kind of situation just won’t come up.”
It won’t, I’m telling you.
“Alright. If our savior says so, I’ll go along.”
Unexpectedly agreeable.
Which actually made him more uneasy than pushback would have.
He’d expected her to gripe and pile on conditions.
Was she thinking something else?
He didn’t particularly want to read people’s minds in real life — but this was important. He activated Eagle Eye, as casually as he could manage.
[Seo I-an Status Screen]
[Currently trusts you deeply!]
He was briefly taken aback, and then:
Oh. Is this the savior effect at work?
The debuff-cleanse potion he’d thrown her in the Hidden Dungeon had apparently earned him a significant amount of goodwill.
Made sense. If he’d been in that situation and someone had helped him out — he could see himself pledging lifelong loyalty.
Though hyung……
“Oh. Seo I-an-nim.”
“Yeah?”
“You know I’m older than you, right?”
“Hmm……”
She stared at him thoughtfully.
Then, for the first time, asked how old he was.
“How old are you?”
“28.”
“Huh. So you actually are older.”
“That’s right!”
“And that matters because?”
Well of course.
This was exactly what made Seo I-an Seo I-an.
“I mean — you’ve been informal with me from the start, so I wasn’t sure if you knew.”
“Oh. You want formal speech from our savior? I could do that? If our savior wants it, would I deny him that?”
Said in casual speech.
And she was snickering.
Never mind. Not interested anymore. It wasn’t a favor if he had to ask for it like this.
“Just…… forget it. At least get the titles right.”
“Oppa?”
“Team lead. “
“Right!”
And while they were at it — they decided to drop all formality entirely.
Now that she knew he was older, she said it felt uncomfortable for her to speak informally while he used formal speech.
“Oh, but team lead! If you need EXP potions — who are you trying to level up? From what I can see, you’re in no position to be——”
Seo I-an suddenly put her hand on her chin and tilted her head, looking at him intently.
She didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication was unmistakable: you should be focusing on your own growth first.
And that was accurate enough that it stung for a moment.
People got angry when they heard true things. That was just how it worked.
“For myself.”
“Right. That makes sense.”
A brief silence.
I-an sat deep in thought for a moment, then seemed to hit on something — she slapped her palm with her fist and said something strange.
“So that’s why you went dark.”
What was that supposed to mean?