I am thinking.
After much deliberation, I reached a conclusion.
This… this has to be a dream!
It wasn’t some escapist excuse.
Lucid dream.
Or as they call it in English, a lucid dream.
The state of realizing you’re dreaming while still inside the dream.
That’s exactly it.
The reason I could tell it was a dream was because my body felt impossibly light.
Shoulders, back, waist, arms and legs, wrists, ankles, heels, even from my big toe to my pinky toe…
Every single part of me should normally be sore, stinging, aching.
I load and unload cargo from morning till night every single day—there’s no way my body could be fine.
My real body must be sprawled on the worn-out bed in my tiny studio apartment right now, dead asleep.
Today was an especially hellish day, after all.
Anyway.
I had realized I was dreaming, but I had no intention of waking up.
Every extra minute, every second of sleep meant I could survive going to work tomorrow morning.
Soon, I looked down.
A familiar logistics warehouse.
Another me inside the dream was frantically moving packages.
…Even in my dream, I’m still loading and unloading cargo?
Cha Hasang, age 24.
Citizen of the Republic of Korea. Grade 1 physical category, honorably discharged as a sergeant.
Forced to work part-time loading and unloading to pay tuition and living expenses.
Whether in dreams or reality, my situation wasn’t much different.
Except for one single thing.
The existence of “gates”—portals connecting to another world.
Monsters pouring out of gates linked to another realm.
And the beings who hunted them.
Awakened.
Unprecedented and unparalleled.
Superhuman strength that defies gods and demons.
Beings who fly through the sky, split the seas, and move mountains—truly worthy of being called protagonists.
Things that should only appear in novels were treated as perfectly normal in this dream world.
And then.
Oh?
I, too, had become an Awakened.
More precisely, the me inside the dream. The dream version of “Mr. Cha Hasang.”
Just before being crushed to death by collapsing logistics boxes, dream-me miraculously awakened.
A complete reversal of fate.
In the dream world, awakening seemed to be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to turn your life around.
The only opportunity to overcome the class you were born into.
But not every opportunity leads to success.
Who the hell awakens as a warehouse keeper?
Dream-Cha Hasang had awakened as a warehouse keeper from another world.
Warehouse life in both reality and dreams—what a joke.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
They say life is a comedy when viewed from afar, a tragedy up close.
The skills he gained were only two: Open and Close.
This is absolute bullshit.
Sure enough, dream-me quickly became depressed.
Only after returning to his shabby studio apartment did he use the Open skill for the first time.
Wondering if he could at least scavenge some dinner from the other world’s warehouse.
At that moment.
Ding-dong!
<Warehouse keeper identity verified.>
<Receiving ‘Open’ command.>
…Oh?
Something extraordinary happened.
The cramped studio vanished in an instant, replaced by a vast expanse of darkness.
A moment later, an enormous gate revealed itself.
A door engraved with bizarre symbols and hieroglyphs.
A crimson eyeball embedded at the top continuously spewed red flames.
Then, a resounding voice echoed from the gate.
<Opening the Magical Warehouse of His Majesty ‘T’, the First Sorcerer Emperor of the Magocratic Empire.>
The Magocratic Empire of Morgue.
The super-empire that once dominated half the Lokpia Continent.
The warehouse that Cha Hasang was now in charge of belonged to none other than Morgue’s founding Sorcerer Emperor ‘T’.
An infinite space whose size could not even be fathomed.
Filled endlessly with the personal possessions of the Sorcerer Emperor.
Even artifacts treated as junk inside were considered unique-grade treasures outside—every single item in the warehouse was of staggering value.
Of course, the warehouse didn’t contain only artifacts.
[GRRROOOOAAAAAR—!]
At the very entrance was a creature that looked like something between a dragon and a lizard, locked away.
The Immortal Pseudo-Dragon.
A monster that regenerated instantly no matter the attack.
Anyway.
Cha Hasang became the rookie warehouse keeper in charge of managing the entire Magical Warehouse.
From that point on, the content of the dreams gradually became more varied.
Because all sorts of incidents and accidents kept happening without pause.
Getting caught up in a gate that opened inside a moving bus.
And of all things, it turned out to be the dungeon of a fleeing Death Knight.
Summoning the Pseudo-Dragon from the warehouse to defeat the Death Knight, staging a monster showdown.
Wow… the fact that he even thought to summon and use that thing.
In a way, it’s impressive.
After many twists and turns, Cha Hasang defeated the Death Knight and freed her from the curse of mental domination.
The result?
[Please accept me as your disciple.]
A Death Knight named Jeanne began following him around, calling herself his disciple.
A master-disciple relationship with a Death Knight. The more I see, the more spectacular it gets.
After that, dream-me continued to be swept up in endless incidents.
Taking down a Hellhound and Cerberus in the underground shopping mall at Bupyeong Station.
Facing powerful enemies in an S-rank dungeon and acquiring an S-rank skill.
Exterminating cockroaches that were gnawing away inside the warehouse.
Fighting awakened terrorists at an expo.
Nearly dying to robbers disguised as hunters.
It felt like I was watching a movie of my entire life from a parallel world.
It looks even harder than loading cargo. Still… it might be more fun than now…
How long had I been watching?
A few minutes? Hours? Days? Maybe even months.
Time itself had become vague.
Eventually, dream-Cha Hasang headed to Haeundae Beach in Busan.
His destination: the S-rank dungeon “Maslow’s Tower.”
He crossed an abandoned subway tunnel, met Korea’s strongest hunter, entered a hidden chained gate, and faced all sorts of trials…
Wait…
A strange sensation began creeping up.
Actually, I had been feeling it for a while now.
Déjà vu.
I already knew the contents of this dream. And even what would happen next.
Could it be…
This isn’t… a dream?
At that moment.
CRUNCH!
Intense pain shot through the back of my head.
It felt like a powerful grip had seized my hair and yanked with all its strength.
…! …! …!
Then.
—FLASH!
A blinding light that seemed to burn my eyeballs poured through my eyelids.
***
“GASP!?”
I bolted upright, eyes wide open.
My entire body was drenched in cold sweat.
I frantically sucked in air.
Warm air traveled down my throat, filling every corner of my lungs.
“Where…?”
Only then did the surroundings come into focus.
A familiar space.
Faded old wallpaper and tattered curtains.
The worn desk and chair that had been with me since my school days.
On the wall hung a photo of elementary-school me wearing a taekwondo uniform.
Home.
My familiar room in our family home.
“Phew—what kind of ridiculously vivid nightmare was that?”
I wiped my sweat-soaked face.
Yeah. I had just woken up from a crazy dream.
My eyes landed on the military uniform hanging on the rack.
A private’s insignia and a name tag that read “Cha Hasang.”
…Right. I was on leave after finishing basic training.
Then, from beyond the door, my mother’s voice called out.
“Son! You’re still sleeping?”
I opened the door and stepped into the living room.
Mom, wearing an apron, was setting side dishes on the table while Dad sat reading the newspaper.
“Good grief, how can you sleep so much? Hurry and wash your hands. You have to eat lunch.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. Soldiers are always sleepy. Sit down. Let’s eat.”
Braised short ribs, seaweed soup, japchae, pork cutlet, and even a fresh cream fruit cake.
The modest table was laden with a feast.
“What’s the occasion? Why the cake?”
“Are you still half-asleep? You were the one singing about coming home for Christmas.”
“Christmas…?”
I turned my head and saw heavy snow falling outside the window.
Mom smiled and held something out to me.
“Son, your Christmas present! Dad and I picked it out together.”
She handed me a brightly wrapped gift box.
“What Christmas present? I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Enough talk. Sit down before the food gets cold.”
It was warm. Cozy.
Yes. This is my home.
The home I can always return to. The home I want to return to.
At that moment.
Ding-dong!
The doorbell rang.
Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong—!
It began ringing frantically, like a madman was mashing the button.
This was way beyond a prank.
Frowning, I yanked the front door open.
“Who the hell— What are you?”
Standing there was a boy who looked about middle-school age.
Snow-white hair and flawless, porcelain skin.
A face so androgynous it was hard to tell if he was a boy or a girl.
Dressed in a red shirt with a black suit vest, he gave off strong rich-young-master vibes.
Then the boy opened his mouth.
“You’re late.”
“What? Who are you?”
He just stared at me silently.
Then sighed and said,
“Who else? Your senior.”
“?”
Senior?
What the hell was he talking about?
The boy looked at me like I was an idiot.
“Can’t even recognize your senior? You moronic junior.”
He pointed dramatically at the silver nameplate on his vest.
In elegant handwriting, it read:
[Morgue Mu Featherback]