SSS-Class Suicide Hunter Chapter 287: 50th Floor (1)

Chapter 287: 50th Floor (1)

1.

The Black Dragon's ambitiously prepared first performance was a spectacular failure.

"This can't be…"

The Crusader covered her face in despair.

Was it because they had practiced the Fire Painting Play too zealously over the past month? Each gesture, each movement was infused with theatricality, making the Crusader's current pose a piece of art t.i.tled 'Despair'. It was like one of those artworks that doesn't sell for even a gold while the artist is alive but becomes wildly popular posthumously.

"I wanted to do music again, but… Is this my own folly?"

The Crusader laughed hollowly.

At her feet lay letters discarded like autumn leaves.

Disappointed, worst ever, I don't know what sins my ears committed in a past life to deserve a performance like yesterday's – a salad of curses and contempt lay there.

"I shall retire. Death King, no, not as a musician. As a hunter. As a human being, I intend to retire from life…"

Wait.

"Yes, the ignorant ma.s.ses can't understand us."

The Black Dragon leader?

"Humans are all trash. They don't remember what they've done. Living like beasts, devouring their own past… Hehe. Should we sacrifice for such beasts? Death King?"

Her eyes dangerously sparkled.

Was Anastasia truly turning evil, or was she just exuding a final boss aura? Her laughter made me s.h.i.+ver; it was a sound reserved for true masterminds.

"Death King! You are no longer my master!"

The Heretic Questioner laughed.

No.

On closer inspection, it wasn't the Heretic Questioner, but a golden-haired Welsh Corgi with the Heretic Questioner's hairstyle – basically, a dog.

A dang-dang dog was relentlessly drooling on my pants.

"I was born with the mission to guide lowly humanity! Woof! Now I understand why the G.o.ds of the universe whispered to me. I am the promised savior! Don't worry, woof! You will be specially confined in a private cell with three meals of premium jerky! woof!"

What the h.e.l.l.

No, literally a dog?

"Hey, Death King."

What is it, Liao Fan?

Wait. Why are you holding my s.h.i.+ny sword and blus.h.i.+ng?

"Ah, this is embarra.s.sing to say but…"

[s.h.i.+ny declares it will speak.]

s.h.i.+ny glittered brilliantly.

I really named my sword well.

[s.h.i.+ny announces that it and Venomous Snake have decided to date.]

Pardon?

[s.h.i.+ny sings. Seeing its previous master safe and its current master finding happiness, it too wants to find its own joy. In the process, it observed this melancholy warrior and decided it must be by his side.]

"You too, huh? I guess the genre of a heroine embodied in a sword does have a long and storied history. It's a pity this isn't the supreme [j.a.panese Katana], but that's just the everyday life I must endure."

Insane.

Venomous Snake was rambling on, and s.h.i.+ny, acting like a teenager in love, was actually 10,000 years old and… well, a sword.

I couldn't decide who was more of a b.a.s.t.a.r.d here.

Was it me for thinking this, or were they really not b.a.s.t.a.r.ds at all? Could it be that the whole world is full of b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, and I'm the only one who isn't?

At least, isn't it quite certain that the Welsh Corgi Heretic Questioner, who's still enthusiastically wagging its tail and rubbing its cheek against the hem of my pants while barking "Woof! Woof!", is indeed a real b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

Has my life come to this?

– d.a.m.n it.

I turned my head away.

Bae Hu-ryeong was making a face as if he'd just swallowed a mouthful of potato soup.

– Hey! Hey! Even though I'm doomed to see all sorts of things in death, why do I have to be part of your ridiculous dreams? Huh? Please wake up, you zombie! Seriously, wake up! Open your eyes!

Why?

I'm enjoying the view.

If you don't like my dog dreams, give me something.

– You devil… Wait, sorry. My apologies. Zombie, no, Gong-ja. Master Gong-ja, I was wrong. So please, stop including me in your dog dreams! Stop it! I'm not dancing to that tune! Dammit, just stop!

Alright.

Let's start the day with Bae Hu-ryeong's refres.h.i.+ng screams.

2.

– Just wait until you reach the 50th floor. Oh man, just wait. I won't give you any advice and will just watch you fail! You've become arrogant because of your luck with the Constellation Killer, but the 50th floor is brutally tough. Later, even if you come crying and cling to my robe, I won't give you a single piece of advice.

"Ah, such a sore loser."

– Look at your dreams! You're always having such absurd dreams!

Ignoring Bae Hu-ryeong's complaints, I descended the stairs.

"Oh, you're up, Gong-ja."

In the bas.e.m.e.nt, the Crusader was seated.

She was fully armed in her armor, but her gauntlets were off as she fiddled with her smartphone.

"Yes, good morning, Patricia."

"Good timing."

The Crusader smiled, lifting her phone.

"I was waiting for you to come down. Look at this. It's a hit."

"What is it?"

"What else? The Fire Painting Play. The reactions to our last performance are starting to surface."

"Oh…"

I suddenly remembered the dream I had today.

The illusion of the Crusader saying she would retire because the performance was a disaster crept into my mind, making me uneasy.

"How are the reactions? Good?"

I approached to look at the smartphone screen. As the Crusader swiped, headlines flashed by.

"Great, indeed! The internet is going crazy. Can you believe it? Renowned directors are endlessly contacting me by email."

"Really?"

What a relief.

It seems my dream last night was really just a dog dream.

I read the headlines one by one, feeling relieved inside.

『Fire Painting Play: A Dance Genre That Transcends Physical Limits.』

『Dancers, Directors, Musicians Unite!』

『German Master: 'This is Jazz in the Dance World.'』

『Every Performance, a Unique Aura Spectacle.』

『Has the Tower Surpa.s.sed the Old World in Art?』

The reactions were overwhelmingly positive.

A look of contentment spread across the Crusader's face.

"We even got a special feature article. After all this time ignoring me when I did jazz, now they make a fuss. Bittersweet…"

Just then…

– Aaaaahhhhh!

A scream echoed from the other side of the bas.e.m.e.nt.

The Crusader glanced briefly at the source of the sound, and I followed her gaze. There was a prison with iron bars.

But the scream soon stopped.

We nonchalantly turned back to our phones.

"Wow, these reactions are pretty incredible. What's this, Post? Times? Aren't these very famous newspapers?"

"The fame is not just ordinary. Gong-ja, aren't you too disconnected from the world? Not only Anastasia but also I stayed up all night checking the internet reactions."

"I've realized how vain that is… Be careful. Getting hooked on others' reactions is a kind of addiction, an addiction."

"Hmm, I know… But it's hard to resist the attention when, as an artist rather than as the Deputy Chief of the Civil Militia, I'm finally being recognized. Look at these comments and reviews, they're like drugs to me…"

"Now you have to get used to it. Famous director and producer. From now on, this will be your everyday life."

"Ha-ha. Our Black Dragon Guild Leader's flattery skills are improving by leaps and bounds…"

Another scream echoed.

– Aaaaahhhhh!

We ignored it and continued to exchange pleasantries. This time, however, the screams persisted longer than before.

– Help me! Please save me!

– Stop it! Aaahhh! Please, no more there…

– I confess everything! Please, don't leave me alone!

– Do you know who I am!? Wait and see, once I get out of here…

We blatantly ignored the cries.

After about five minutes, the screaming subsided. In the meantime, we greedily consumed our egos from anonymous journalists and critics online.

When our egos were about to burst from satisfaction, and when the Crusader and I were starting to realize how foolish it was to entrust our self-awareness to this tiny smartphone, clank.

The prison door in the bas.e.m.e.nt opened.

"Good morning…"

It was Anastasia coming out of the door.

"…Huh? What's this? Gong-ja, you're here too?"

"Yes, good morning."

I waved my hand.

"Any success?"

"Well… just so-so, I guess. It feels like all the information that could come out has already emerged."

Anastasia yawned and staggered towards the pantry corner of the bas.e.m.e.nt. She clumsily groped for a coffee filter.

"Ah, just sit down. I'll make it for you."

"Thanks…"

Anastasia looked visibly exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, suggesting she had indeed stayed up all night. She gratefully accepted the chair I offered and sighed heavily.

"This is why I like married men. They have consideration and manners ingrained in them."

"That's a biased statement, Anastasia. Not all married men are like that; it's because I'm who I am that such consideration is possible."

"Ugh, what? That's annoying…"

"For example, I know your favorite coffee is hazelnut latte. You like it hot with an extra shot. So, I'm making you a hazelnut latte instead of an Americano. Now, be moved."

"…Huh? Annoyingly angelic…?"

Anastasia sipped the coffee. "d.a.m.n, it's delicious…" she muttered reluctantly before speaking up.

"You were right in your prediction."

I nodded.

"There were indeed traitors."

"…Yeah. There were social groups within Black Dragon and Ten Thousand Temple."

Anastasia pulled out a worn notebook from her pocket.

"Their official name is the Three Tower Society."

"..."

"The Tower of Babel is a miracle from G.o.d, and humanity must respond to this miracle by purifying the tower," is the belief held by this secret society, aiming for 'purification.'

"And by purification, they mean?"

"It's a more refined term for terrorism. Crazy bunch. With two high-ranking officials and eleven regular guild members, the group might not seem large. But if we hadn't discovered them now, they would have grown much larger later."

Right.

I took the notebook from Anastasia and flipped through it.

"The Tower is the second coming of the once-fallen Tower of Babel, a chance granted by G.o.d to reach the heavens once again…"

"Abandon the tainted outside world and establish a new kingdom within the Tower, devote ourselves to making this place blessed…"

"The current rulers of the Tower are corrupt, and driving out these false rulers is our sacred mission…"

Whispers of fanaticism.

The hastily scribbled words, read and reread several times by the notebook's owner, were smudged with fingerprints at the end of each sentence.

"I see."

I swallowed hard.

In the world shown to me by the Tower Master, this secret society was responsible for the death of the Black Dragon Witch and the Heretic Questioner.

Maybe they started their activities around this time. Thinking of this possibility, I had secretly investigated, and…

"It's good we found them now."

A bad feeling always seems to be right. Dissatisfied with the current regime controlled by the Five Great Guilds, those who combined social interaction and fanaticism had been lurking within, like malignant tumors.

– No! I can't take it anymore! Don't send me there! Don't leave me alone!

And now the fanatics were locked in the bas.e.m.e.nt dungeon, screaming.

Anastasia grimaced slightly.

"The Dream Demon race helped with the interrogation, making it easier. We didn't have to see blood… In the past, heads would have rolled by now."

"How terrifyingly do you make them dream?"

"Nothing special. Just dropped them into a white, endless plain, left them alone there for about 30 days in dream time."

That's practically h.e.l.l.

Looking beside me, even the Crusader was shuddering. Among our members, all adept at tormenting people, Anastasia was in a league of her own.

"Anyway, thanks to you, we've cleaned house. Thank you."

Anastasia set down her coffee cup indifferently.

"I'd like to ask how you found out, but it's not important. What matters is that we've eliminated a potential threat."

"Exactly."

"Good. Our leader."

Another scream echoed from beyond the iron door.

Anastasia linked her fingers and rested her chin on them, staring intently at me.

"We've dealt with the traitors and heretics. Everyone's attention was on the Fire Play Painting, so no one noticed. Having taken care of the aftermath so perfectly, I wonder what our leader plans to do next?"

Thud.

I closed the notebook.

"There's only one thing to do."

And then I declared.

"Tomorrow. I will ascend to the 50th floor."