As soon as Junseok stepped into the house, he saw his mother’s startled expression.
His younger sister hadn’t yet returned from school, it seemed.
Despite the bewildering situation, his mother zeroed in on an unexpected detail.
“Junseok, who’s the woman behind you?!”
Bow. Nayeon gave a slight nod to his mother’s commanding presence.
It was the first time Nayeon had greeted anyone besides Junseok.
Junseok, oddly reassured by his mother’s typical demeanor, took off his shoes.
At the same time, judging the situation safe, Nayeon vanished with a srrrk.
“Oh my, oh my! She disappeared!”
His mother’s eyes widened in shock.
But Junhee quickly regained her composure.
“I’ll explain slowly.”
“I already heard the gist from the Player Management Office staff.”
“That’ll make this quick.”
As they were talking, the container door burst open with a bang!
Choi Hyeri, his younger sister, rushed in.
“Mom! There are people in suits outside—Wait, is that you, Oppa?!”
Junseok glanced between his mother and sister, mouthing silently, “Do you know about her?”
His mother quietly closed her eyes and nodded.
“Let’s talk over dinner.”
***
Junseok was astonished by the Player Management Office’s intelligence capabilities.
His mother had said she’d heard the basics, but it seemed she’d been told nearly everything.
It hit him just how formidable their information network was.
The bits mentioned in news or broadcasts were apparently just the tip of the iceberg.
“This is the first time I’ve seen a government agency work this efficiently. They seem to know almost everything about me.”
In movies or dramas, public authorities were often portrayed as incompetent in such situations.
But these Korean officials seemed like the most capable Junseok had ever encountered.
They’d pieced together his Tower clears, his daily floor ascensions, blending guesses with truths to track his movements.
“When you told me you awakened but didn’t register with the government, I looked into it.”
“…That I’m the F-rank player from the news?”
“Of course. I’ve known you your whole life. I can tell when my son’s up to something just by looking at his eyebrows.”
Fair enough.
She was his mother, after all.
“You’re not clueless about players. You could’ve gotten government support, taken training courses, and looked for work slowly. But you went straight to the Tower.”
“You knew since then?”
“It was a hunch.”
Despite the conversation being about her brother, Hyeri remained indifferent.
“Hey, aren’t you even a little shocked? I’m the F-rank player from the news.”
“So what? Should I applaud or something?”
“Hey, don’t eat that chicken. Put down the bossam.”
“Ugh! The worst thing is giving something and taking it back, and messing with food is the saddest!”
“Enough, both of you.”
Hyeri, softening, looked at her brother and asked, “So… you’re that ‘Function’ guy?”
“Function? Me? Why Function?”
“You didn’t know? It’s super famous. An unknown F-rank, right? They got it from F(x), I guess.”
They continued talking casually, but Junseok could sense a shift in his mother and sister’s gazes.
There was a clear warmth and joy in their eyes.
Hopeful expressions.
It reminded him of the times before their family fell apart, when they’d raised glasses together at home.
His father, a C-rank player, had earned money through blood and sweat.
But even that wasn’t enough to buy a house in Korea’s insane housing market without loans.
It wasn’t even an expensive house, but they’d scraped together every penny, borrowing from everyone around them.
And then, as if the world was mocking them, a Magic Tower rose nearby.
The heavens were merciless.
If their home had been directly damaged by the Tower, they might’ve qualified for government compensation.
But their house was just outside the boundary for damage claims.
They were forced to abandon their home, left with bank loans and debts to others.
All they got was a measly million-won emergency disaster relief fund for a family of four and the right to live in a converted container in the refugee village.
Who’re they mocking?
No amount of zeros tacked onto the plummeting house value would’ve been enough.
That was part of why he hadn’t immediately reported to the government or volunteered.
He still remembered the complaints they’d lodged at Incheon City Hall with his father.
The words of the official there lingered in Junseok’s mind.
Sir, if your house is swept away in a flood or buried by a landslide caused by heavy rain, does the government compensate you?
His father had argued with obvious reasoning.
But didn’t you issue an evacuation order?!
No, sir. An order? We provided ‘guidance.’ Living there is your choice. How could we infringe on your freedom of residence?
You won’t even repair the broken sewer system. How is that different from telling us to leave?
No… we gave guidance to avoid issues if someone dies. And for related inquiries, contact the waterworks department.
Isn’t there anything you can do? Our family of four is about to be out on the streets! My daughter’s in high school, at a sensitive age, and you’re telling us to live in a container?!
The official sighed openly and responded.
Sir, if the government compensated every case like yours, where’s the line? Who gets help and who doesn’t? And if the government covers everything, why have insurance? You should’ve gotten insurance.
That was the attitude of the officials.
Telling them they were credit defaulters and couldn’t get a lease loan didn’t help.
It was the first time Junseok saw his father plead with anyone.
They weren’t even selected for the national disaster relief fund.
Fine.
Even if that could be chalked up to an unavoidable natural disaster, that wasn’t the only issue.
As if fueled by rage over the plummeting house value, his father climbed the Tower relentlessly.
Even after getting injured, he didn’t rest, ascending the Tower the next day.
He never took a day off, even after returning from the Tower.
Double, triple, even quadruple jobs.
As if the housing market crash was his fault.
His father, who’d quit smoking when Junhee was pregnant with Junseok, started again.
With grueling work, his nails broke, and he wrapped his fingers in bandages, taking painkillers to start the day.
For a man in such a worn-out state to climb the Tower, his death was perhaps inevitable.
One day, Junseok’s father, Choi Hyeoncheol, called him over and offered a cigarette.
It was a first.
That day, Hyeoncheol let out a deep sigh he’d never shown in front of his wife and daughter.
Even that sigh was mixed with cigarette smoke.
“Junseok, no matter what happens, you have to protect your mom and sister.”
“What’s with the sudden drama? Don’t act like you’re dying.”
“Hey, who’s dying? I’m just saying, that’s a man’s life.”
“Geez, that’s a dangerous thing to say these days.”
His father gave a bitter smile and continued.
“Look, a man’s gotta take responsibility for his wife and kids, got it?”
“Ugh, more old-fashioned talk. Don’t you know being a ‘Hamanja’ is trendy now?”
“Hamanja? What’s that?”
“The opposite of a ‘Sangnamja.’”
“Even a Hamanja’s gotta act like a man if he’s a man.”
Junseok chuckled at his father’s words.
“Hey, what’s so funny? Isn’t that the natural order?”
“Sure.”
“Ever since Homo sapiens started walking on two legs, that’s been a man’s virtue and role.”
“Here comes the dog-shit philosophy again. Take care of yourself, Dad. Don’t worry about Mom and Hyeri.”
His father, as if acknowledging the truth in that, chain-smoked.
The sound of crickets and the starlight filled the air.
After a pause, his father continued.
“Sorry, Junseok. You gave up on the university you wanted because of me, didn’t you?”
“It’s not your fault. I just wasn’t good at studying.”
“I know that’s not true. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. If I’d studied harder, I’d have gotten a full scholarship somewhere. It’s my fault.”
“Junseok, a man’s life can be this pathetic and fleeting.”
The tip of his father’s cigarette glowed red.
His heart must’ve been burning out like that too.
The ash was sucked in and scattered in the wind.
“I’ll build the family back up. I’ll take responsibility. So don’t worry.”
“I’ll help too.”
“You little punk. Just take care of yourself.”
Feeling awkward, Junseok looked up at the sky and changed the subject.
“The stars look nice these days.”
“Yeah. Maybe because the Tower blocks the moonlight.”
“Can you see stars from the Tower?”
“Not really. Well, some places you can.”
“Just stick to the lower floors if it’s dangerous, Dad.”
“What in life isn’t dangerous?”
A brief silence fell.
His father exhaled cigarette smoke slowly and continued.
“I thought I’d lived without shame until now. At least for the woman I chose, my kids, my parents—I lived so I could look up to the heavens without shame. That’s what I thought a man’s life should be.”
He looked at Junseok and gave a faint smile.
But that smile looked so sad.
“But lately, I’ve been feeling a bit ashamed.”
That was the last one-on-one conversation Junseok had with his father.
The Incheon Magic Tower took his life and shattered their family before it finally vanished.
His mother couldn’t bring herself to use his father’s life insurance to pay off the house debt.
Seeing his mother and sister’s bright expressions after so long—those faces his father had wanted to restore until his dying breath.
“Hey, Oppa! You don’t know Player Inside? The internet forum? Even when you weren’t a player, you must’ve heard of it.”
“Of course I know what it is.”
“Anyway, if you scroll through YouTube Shorts, there’s tons of content about ‘Function.’ You didn’t know?”
Player Inside.
Commonly called “Plinssa,” it was an online community for Tower strategies, job postings, tips, and training methods from all walks of life.
Junseok hadn’t joined to protect his identity.
Or rather, he couldn’t.
Joining required proof of being an Awakener, verified by attaching a government-issued player certificate.
“The fact that you’re called ‘Function’ spread online first.”
“Anyway, you’re totally hot there.”
“In a good way?”
Hyeri, chomping on a chicken drumstick, nodded.
“They say you straightened out the crumpled pride of F-rank players.”
It wasn’t hard to understand.
When had the world ever paid this much attention to F-ranks?
Including C to F-ranks, they made up 70% of all players.
The backbone and middle tier of the player society.
Yet society was shockingly indifferent to them.
At the same time, they’d experienced all sorts of hardships in the player world.
In just two days, after clearing the third and fourth floors, the world was buzzing with theories and conspiracies about why an F-rank player was in hiding.
“Hey, Oppa, check this out.”
Hyeri searched something on the internet and handed it to him.
It was a screenshot of a Plinssa post circulating online.
The raw frustration of lower-tier players, always treated as second-class by higher ranks, was laid bare.
“This is from two days ago?”
The moment Junseok cleared the first and second floors with unprecedented records, shocking the world.
Plinssa had erupted.
[He’s here. The ultimate F-rank player.]
└ I told you not to underestimate F-ranks, lol.
└ To every F-rank thinking “Maybe me?” after this news, hit recommend. I’m first.
[Anyone scared to climb with an F-rank porter tomorrow? Lol.]
└ No wonder, lol. Today’s my climb, and for the first time, the team leader offered me water. Thanks to Function, lol.
[Current status of rank 21: “Recruiting for 2nd floor raid.”]
└ Lmao, S-ranks and A-ranks got nothing? Beaten by an F-rank?
└ Lol, how do you beat 2 seconds? Casting magic outside the Tower and rushing in?
[Fact: On the 100th floor of the Tower, an F-rank awaits players’ challenges. The Tower collapses because the F-rank up top got bored and stood up.]
└ Fact: The world is ruled by F-ranks, backed by the Illuminati.
“They’re having a blast.”
Despite his words, Junseok’s lips curled into a grin.
Having been treated like dirt as a porter, he understood.
If they could laugh and relieve the stress of climbing like this, that was enough for him.
“So, my son’s gonna make it big?”
“Big… I wouldn’t go that far.”
Surprisingly, both his mother and sister seemed to accept it easily, perhaps because their father had been a C-rank player.
“Anyway, you didn’t tell us your rank, didn’t register with the government, but climbed the Tower. I had a feeling, but I didn’t expect it to be true.”
He’d been a bit careless, admittedly.
“Alright, I’ll go finish the talk.”
“Yeah. Be careful… Don’t decide anything today! Think it over carefully, okay?”
A trace of anxiety, unseen before, flickered across his mother’s face.
It was obvious what memory had crossed her mind without asking.
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
With his father’s resolve in mind, Junseok grabbed the doorknob.
The key to resolving all that resentment was in his hands.
Alright… what can we squeeze out of them?
Junseok’s lips curved into a sly grin.
It was time to debut as a real player, slowly but surely.
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