Chapter 51 - Choi Jiwon Is Too Strong (2)

“Um... Jiwon. What do you mean, looking like that...?”

“Mr. Park. Look at his clothes. Then look at ours. They’re much more worn than ours. He hasn’t just been here a day or two.”

“Oh, um... I can’t really tell.”

“And why are you speaking so casually to him?”

“Well... you see...”

The two spoke with easy familiarity. After a brief exchange in which the firefighter Park Cheoljin seemed at a loss before Choi Jiwon, she turned to look at me again.

“Hello. My name is Choi Jiwon.”

“I’m Park Cheoljin, lad. No, excuse me. My name is Park Cheoljin. I’m sorry. You looked so young...”

The firefighter chuckled.

“... It’s fine. My name is Kim Junho.”

Come to think of it, when we cleared the tutorial, I’d simply told them my name. We hadn’t even properly introduced ourselves.

“You know the government put out a public call for survivors to gather, right? I thought I’d see you there.”

Choi Jiwon gently stroked Whoosh as she spoke.

“... I had my reasons.”

Of course I knew. It had happened while I was busy gathering information before coming up to Floor 2.

One week after I cleared the tutorial—in other words, two weeks before the present—the South Korean government had publicly called for Players to gather.

Actually, at this point, “Player” wasn’t yet the universally accepted term. The US government had officially announced that designation a week later.

An age of upheaval. That was the best way to describe this period. Public opinion was seething, and everyone was arguing about the tower.

Everyone saw the tower differently. Opinion around the world was splintered in every direction, with no single answer to be found. People were shouting pointlessly about who was right, practically tearing each other’s hair out over questions with no answers. That was the era we were in.

With public opinion so divided, it would have made sense for each country to reach a different decision...

Surprisingly, however, their leaders all reached the same one: first, compile a list of Players and enter it into a database. That had the rumor mill buzzing about some sort of agreement between the world’s leaders.

Whatever the case, whether it was following public opinion or an international trend, the South Korean government had likewise called all the Players together without much of a plan.

-Hey, did you guys go when the government called in the tower survivors?

-Why would I? What if they lock us up and experiment on us?

-I went. They didn’t do that. But they seriously don’t do anything. They just check your name and face and send you home.

-Then why call us in? Shouldn’t they at least ask what the tower is? Or teach us how to use weapons or something?

-How should I know? Ask the president.

The problem was that gathering everyone was all well and good, but they never moved on to the next step. Organized support? Listening to survivors’ accounts and assembling an emergency task force?

None of it happened.

It later came out that a power struggle between the president and the major opposition party had stalled amendments to the relevant laws... but that wasn’t really my problem.

Anyway, I had no intention of showing up just because the government asked. They were only going to send me home without doing anything, so there was no reason to go through the hassle of regressing just to attend.

“That’s where Mr. Park and I met. Was it the Seoul Military Manpower Administration office? They were temporarily using it to verify survivors’ identities.”

“... It had been a very long time since I’d visited that office. I’ve even finished my civil defense obligations...”

People who had narrowly escaped death in the tutorial generally came out with at least one psychological problem.

Some would have had to stab a trusted companion in the back.

Some would have had to turn a blind eye to someone else’s death to survive.

Some would have had to pay for the sins they’d committed.

How could they not have PTSD?

But even their closest family members couldn’t relate to their experiences in the tower. They couldn’t even hear about them in the first place. And the government? What did they know that entitled them to summon everyone? Could they even hear anything I told them?

Besides, Floor 1 was right there, offering pleasures sweeter than anything they’d ever known. Obediently trotting off at the government’s summons would almost be the strange choice.

“When I got there... almost everyone was someone I’d seen in passing during the tutorial. And Mr. Park even turned out to have known my late father...”

Except, that is, for the people who had cleared the tutorial unscathed simply by doing as they were told.

Choi Jiwon. Park Cheoljin. And the roughly fifty others who had cleared the tutorial thanks to me.

After recognizing one another and finishing the government’s identity checks, they had apparently rented out an entire restaurant to talk.

Naturally enough, the conversation had turned to the tower.

“People post about it online practically every day, don’t they? What the tutorial was really like. Betraying people to survive, killing to avoid being killed... It was horrifying.”

Park Cheoljin shook his head.

Only after clearing the tutorial had they truly understood.

What a blessing it was to have survived with all their limbs intact.

How fortunate they were that everyone in their tutorial had survived.

“There’s something I wanted to be sure to say if we ever met again.”

Choi Jiwon bowed deeply.

“I want to apologize for doubting you instead of trusting you back in the clearing. I’m truly sorry.”

Unlike her earlier voice, which had carried a faint warmth, her tone was solemn and serious.

“And I’m sorry for presuming to speak so casually to you earlier.”

Park Cheoljin bowed as well.

“After clearing the tutorial... I understood. How unfair and cruel that place was. How many lives you saved, Junho. I wanted to make sure I thanked you. Thank you again. The others asked us to pass along their thanks if we saw you, too.”

“... It’s all right. Really.”

Emotion welled up and choked my throat, but I swallowed hard and barely managed a reply.

There was so much I wanted to talk about, too.

How had Choi Jiwon been? Was Whoosh behaving any better now? Was Park Cheoljin feeling all right?

I wanted to walk up to them like old friends, throw my arms around their shoulders, and talk up a storm.

But I couldn’t.

I could tell from their attitudes.

What they felt was gratitude. Not closeness.

I was... their savior. Not their comrade.

They weren’t the Choi Jiwon I knew, or the Park Cheoljin I knew.

Our joining forces to defeat the Minotaur existed only in my memories.

The Choi Jiwon who had smiled at me in the clearing at sunset was gone.

The firefighter Park Cheoljin who had given me a thumbs-up and called me a hero, his face pale from sweating so much, was gone.

Then... the Kim Junho who had been with them must be gone, too.

I would have to bury this joy at seeing them deep in my heart.

I’d expected it to hurt. But I hadn’t known it would hurt this much. A fair amount of time had passed, and I’d thought I would be all right by now. I wasn’t.

I had been lonely.

As I’d thought... I needed to avoid becoming too close to other people. I’d been fine when I was alone all the time, but meeting people I’d grown attached to made that dormant loneliness rear its head.

Keep a little awkwardness between us. Keep a little distance.

Be friendly, but don’t grow close.

“... It’s good to see you both.”

For my sake, and for theirs.

“People... have no intention of coming up to Floor 2 right now. At least, not the sane ones.”

Park Cheoljin began speaking with a grave expression.

First, he said, those who had been psychologically broken by the brutal tutorial didn’t want to come up to Floor 2.

After being badly burned by a tutorial full of killing and death, they had buried themselves in the comfort of Floor 1 and completely lost their will.

Apart from a few who felt responsible for saving humanity and a handful climbing the tower with the sole aim of growing stronger, everyone was absorbed in eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves on Floor 1.

Nor did item trading seem as active as it was in the American underworld, so no one was climbing out of greed, either.

Did that mean the people who had emerged from the tutorial unharmed wanted to go up to Floor 2? Not that, either.

They had no levels. Their achievement levels could make up for that, you say? But levels weren’t all they lacked. They had no combat experience, either.

They didn’t know exactly what Floor 2 was like, but if it turned out to be a death game where they had to kill one another... they weren’t confident they could beat people who had risked their lives to clear the tutorial.

“So... Mr. Park and I came as an advance party. To check whether it was safe.”

Park Cheoljin and Choi Jiwon belonged to that responsible few he’d mentioned earlier.

They said they had made full use of Floor 1 to train diligently, and once they finally felt reasonably comfortable with combat, they had come up to Floor 2 together.

Choi Jiwon turned her gaze to me midway through the conversation.

“Junho... it looks like you’ve been here quite a while. Is there a reason?”

“There is. A very important one.”

After briefly explaining Floor 2’s rules, I laid out what I’d learned through Regression as though I’d discovered it through meticulous investigation.

Floor 2’s structure. The ban on violence. The residents forced to live other people’s lives. The city’s ruler, who had created this entire situation. And even the fact that taking the residents’ boxes would very likely draw her out.

“That... woman is insane.”

“I can’t believe a god created this tower. An evil god, perhaps.”

Choi Jiwon was indignant, while Park Cheoljin looked disgusted and disillusioned.

These people. These righteous people would support me. That was what I’d believed.

“I need your help. Would you hear out my plan?”

Choi Jiwon.

There’s something I need you to do.

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