<The Tower Strategy of a Han River Man: Chapter 22>
I had confidence in myself.
I wanted to escape the pathetic mediocrity of reality and live a different life, at least within the Tower.
I thought I’d gained the skills to make it happen.
At least until I stepped onto the 29th floor.
“Ggghhhk! Ugh!”
A ruined city stretched before me.
Plague trolls shuffled through collapsed buildings, leaving trails of yellow pus in their wake.
‘Should I fight them or not?’
For a moment, I even considered abandoning the climb.
Plague trolls?
That’s too generous.
They should be called pus trolls.
Walking sacks of festering rot, oozing filth with every step.
‘The 28th floor was a cakewalk.’
Juhyeok wore a mask—not some flimsy dust cover, but a proper industrial-grade respirator.
Even then, the stench clawed at my throat.
“Lookin’ sharp with that gas mask, boss!”
“…It’s just a mask.”
The real danger wasn’t the trolls themselves, but the pathogens they carried.
Exposure meant fever, muscle aches, coughing fits—the works.
Healing potions could fix it, but falling sick mid-battle?
Outside items needed inventory clearance, so I’d pre-gamed with antidotes before entering.
When I asked Gobang why he wasn’t masking up:
“Warriors don’t get sick.”
“Dumbass! Your head’s too damn big for masks anyway.”
“Warriors need big heads. You sneaky types should worry about yourselves.”
Kossak chimed in:
“Can’t fight proper with this thing. And… y’know…”
“Ssussal. Right, ssussal.”
“Heh heh heh.”
Gobang with his warrior complex, Kossak with his ssussal fixation.
If they got sick, a potion would fix it.
Hell, could undead even catch diseases?
“I’m gonna puke.”
“Disgusting, right? See those blisters? Pop one and—”
“Spare me the details.”
“We’ll bag three. Easy peasy.”
“…”
Even masked, I wanted no part of this.
Getting splattered in pus? No thanks.
I sealed my lips tight.
‘Should’ve stuck to farming jungle trolls on 28.’
The assault began.
Gobang charged.
Kossak followed.
Thwack! Splortch!
Every fallen troll erupted in viscous yellow gunk.
‘God damn it!’
Nope. Hard pass.
[29th Floor Mission Complete]
[Level Up]
[Reward: 2.9kg Magic Stone]
The two stood there grinning, drenched in putrid slime.
“…”
They looked more monstrous than the trolls.
Wait—completing the mission meant instant teleportation home.
Which meant all that pus…
“Summoner Bong! Dinner on the company tonight?”
My stomach lurched.
“Listen, I’m really sorry.”
“…Boss?”
“Go ahead. Curse me out.”
“How could I? You’re our brilliant leader! Champion of summoned rights! Tireless! Visionary!—”
“Unsummon. Both of you.”
“…Huh?”
Poof!
Gone.
Ah, fuck.
I’m scum.
A tyrannical employer.
Hate me. Spit on me.
But my new place—
Pus stains on every surface?
Gobang’s massive frame dripping gunk everywhere?
No way.
I’d resummon them later.
Three hours? Tomorrow?
‘…Treat them to a feast tomorrow.’
First: laundry. Shower.
[Notice: Black Tower (Korea) 29th Floor S++ Clear]
[Reward: Platinum Badge]
The badge was expected.
Not getting it would’ve stung.
How many more could I stack?
※ ※ ※
Awakening Management Bureau, Hannam-dong, Seoul.
Director Park Kyung-soo misted his prized orchid, humming.
Life was good.
Securing Bong Juhyeok’s elite contract had been his masterstroke.
The kid kept delivering—28th floor S++ cleared in record time.
At this rate, 40th floor in three months? Maybe 50th.
‘Better curb expectations past 30.’
S++ runs were miracles, not standards.
31-35 housed minotaurs. 36-40: ogres.
Then came the real nightmares beyond 40.
Just keep climbing safely. That’s all.
Knock knock
Team Leader Jeon entered.
“Report?”
“29th floor S++ cleared. Verified.”
“Hmm.”
The kid moved like lightning.
Call to announce a floor attempt, cleared before coffee cooled.
Rumors said he summoned dragons. No footage to confirm—Bong had waived bodycam requirements.
“Spoken to him?”
“Says he needs ten days for 30th floor prep.”
“Skill mastery?”
“Apparently.”
“Ten days? Others take months off.”
Most top players partied hard post-fame.
Elite team wasn’t exempt.
“Yoo Cheol-min’s status?”
“Clubbing nightly. Blackout drunk. One-night stands.”
“Tch. Security detail’s nightmare.”
Park understood.
Korea’s sole contender for Black Tower’s unconquered 66th floor.
The pressure? Crushing.
“Support team’s analysis?”
“Stuck at 3 specters. Needs 10.”
“That bad?”
“Mummies emit dark aura from 61st up. Just enduring it…”
These weren’t movie zombies.
No punching your way through.
A horrifying monster that gnaws away at human souls with its dark aura.
Park Kyung-soo feels somewhat uneasy.
But he has to trust Yoo Cheol-min, the player.
‘He’ll pull it off eventually.’
The countdown to the collapse of Korea’s Black Tower is estimated to have around 92 days left.
Half of the 180-day deadline has already passed.
Some might think, ‘Only half remains,’ or ‘Half is still left,’ but for Park Kyung-soo, it’s enough.
‘Bong Joo-hyuk, the player, still has a long way to go to reach the 60th floor.’
The Awakening Management Agency also has a Plan B in place.
“What about Nam Ga-eun, the player? Is she currently tackling the 62nd floor?”
“Yes, she’s climbing steadily.”
Just thinking about Nam Ga-eun makes him deeply regretful.
In raw talent alone, she surpasses Yoo Cheol-min.
She has conquered multiple floors with A-grade ratings.
There were even A+ and A++ grades.
[You have achieved an A++ grade for conquering △△ floor of the Black Tower (Korea).]
Like that.
No global announcement had sounded.
But Nam Ga-eun’s trait enhancement is only at level 2, achieved once.
Compared to Yoo Cheol-min, who has undergone four trait enhancements, the gap spans three levels.
“Can’t we acquire more trait enhancement runes?”
“Well, the enhancement rune market has dried up. The reward probability is too low.”
“I’ll find a way through my connections.”
Even if obtained, they’d ultimately be funneled to Yoo Cheol-min.
“Ah! What’s the status of securing light-attribute items?”
“From what I’ve heard, outright purchases aren’t possible. They’re negotiating a rental arrangement.”
“Understood. I’ll receive a direct report from the item department.”
“Yes.”
Securing light-attribute items for the undead floors remains challenging.
Unlike strategy intel, item sharing is hindered by national interests.
Especially tower reward items.
If only we had ample light-attribute items, conquering the 66th floor would be feasible.
They were crucial for Yoo Cheol-min’s 65th-floor conquest too.
Despite pouring vast sums into acquisitions, supplies remain insufficient.
What to do?
We’ll just have to procure more.
※ ※ ※
The next day.
Joo-hyuk finished preparing the team dinner.
The menu was bossam.
He’d sourced a large steamer and pork belly instead of ordering delivery, boiling it himself.
The reason for cooking personally?
Sheer guilt.
“…You’re not upset, are you?”
“Heh, what do ya take me for? Smash my noggin with a mace, and I’d still laugh! Gobang too. Wanna test it?”
“Cossack?”
“Nay. Gobang.”
“…”
The living room table groaned under a lavish bossam spread.
Food is about sincerity, after all.
Though he’d lived alone for less than a year, bossam was within his skills.
“Here! Freshly steamed bossam!”
“Oh! I’ll feast heartily.”
But Gobang’s expression twisted oddly.
Tears suddenly pooled in his eyes.
“Why cry? Can’t eat pork? You devoured tangsuyuk fine.”
“Thank you, Summoner.”
Huh?
“No one’s treated me this kindly ’cept you.”
“Uh…”
Why the melodrama?
“I, Gobang, swear loyalty. Even in death, I’ll save you.”
“Er… Let’s eat first.”
He could guess Gobang’s emotional state.
People always exploited the barbarian warrior’s dim wit.
How bitter that must’ve been.
Not that he was different.
Except he followed exploitation with feasts.
Speaking of which—what was Cossack doing?
Moved by this touching scene?
‘…’
Not at all.
Cossack grimly poked at the kimchi his mother had prepared.
Ugh, this spice-weakling!
“Stop prodding if you won’t eat it.”
“S-sorry. Looks delicious… but courage fails.”
Likely recalling his tteokbokki-induced coma.
Even ssamjang was “spicy” to Cossack.
“Just use pickled radish and shrimp paste.”
“…Aye.”
He layered radish, bossam, and shrimp paste into one bite.
“Mmm! Divine! Bossam-shrimp paste harmony!”
This flavor-illiterate fool.
He’d never grasp bossam-kimchi synergy.
“We’ve cleared Floor 29. Proceed to 30?”
“Hmm. Slightly lacking, but I’ll strive.”
“Lacking? How?”
“Twin-Headed Troll’s regeneration’s no joke. Skulls too tough for sword energy. Cut one head, another remains.”
Impossible.
We need Floor 30’s badge too.
“Then pause. Repeat Floor 28 until random summon cooldown ends.”
“Understood. Gobang shall shake trees well.”
If Floor 30’s ambiguous…
“What about Floor 31?”
“Floor 31… bad compatibility. S++ unlikely.”
“Compatibility?”
“Monsters dwarf Gobang—minotaurs, ogres. Even he’d struggle.”
“Nay! Gobang prevails!”
“Silence! My assessment stands!”
Meaning: colossal monsters.
“1v1, Gobang wins. But multiples? Aggro spikes. Summoner Bong endangered.”
“Ah.”
“Must lure them singly. Time-consuming.”
This was Cossack’s “difficulty.”
Clearing’s possible.
S++ grading’s the uncertainty.
A real man’s tower philosophy:
If uncertain, don’t climb.
Overprepare.
“Need another summon.”
“Exactly. Your wisdom shines.”
Higher grades would be ideal.
“Hmm… LSSR—Legend Special Super Rare possible?”
“Possible. Persist with summons, it’ll happen.”
All hinged on gacha luck.
Please let the next summon be decent—
Sane, moderately intelligent, average.
Thus began the Floor 28 grind.
Ten days since the last global announcement.
※ ※ ※
Japanese Embassy in Korea.
Counselor Tomoda shot up from his desk.
His secure phone rang.
Only the scout broker used this line.
He slipped into the restroom.
“Hello?”
It’s me.
“Result?”
The rabbit leaves its old burrow for a new nest.
“…Splendid. Truly splendid.”
But retrieval required. Wolves watch the rabbit.
“Relay: No worries. We’ll escort it safely.”
Tomoda clenched his fist.
Finally done.
Yoo Cheol-min’s abrupt naturalization.
Now Japan was secure.
Korea’s fate?
Uncertain.
