Chapter 22. Self-Development (1)
"He will see you guys now."
The massive door creaked open, revealing a secretary in a crisp suit. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and just like that hairstyle, not a single emotion slipped from her composed face.
She wordlessly stepped aside and granted them entrance. A stifling tension clung to the air, like thick humidity pressing down on their skin.
Feeling the rough, dry air leaking through the door prickling at his throat, Choi Seung gulped as he silently followed Harona inside.
"Administrator Harona, reporting to the Director," Harona announced.
The room beyond was vast—its ceiling soaring above them, while the walls lined with bookshelves packed tight. The Director sat at the very end of a hallway-like stretch of office space.
He was the highest authority over Choi Seung, Harona, and countless others. A boss so powerful, he felt almost like a force of nature.
Harona stepped forward. Then, with graceful precision, she slightly lifted the hem of her skirt and gave a respectful bow, before rising again with equal poise.
"All right," the Director said, his deep voice rumbling through the room like distant thunder.
"I heard you approved support for an unselected subject," he added, his tone anything but pleased.
"It was just a minor gift, sir," Harona replied quickly.
"Not only that, you also went against protocol and conducted a trial on your own initiative."
Harona, always composed and confident, faltered for once. She trembled ever so slightly, her voice barely holding steady.
Choi Seung took small comfort in the fact that the oppressive pressure wasn’t solely his to bear.
"He's not ordinary," Harona insisted. "He uses even the most basic skills aggressively. He's intelligent, physically capable and—"
"Enough." The Director cut her off coldly, slicing through her defense like a blade. His voice held no inflection, but the warning was clear. "You’d break the rules for just one subject?"
As soon as Choi Seung sensed the undercurrent of anger in the otherwise flat tone, the floor beneath them shifted. They had not even realized it was a trap.
Sssshhhk—!
The ground crumbled like sand beneath their feet, and a sudden vortex pulled them down. First their feet, then their shins, knees, and thighs were swallowed up as if they had stepped into a living pit of quicksand. Coarse sand whipped around below, while invisible pressure crushed them from above.
"L-Lady Harona!" Choi Seung managed to call out, his chest now level with the choking sand.
However, after just that one word, he clamped his mouth shut. The grit was pouring into his mouth faster than he could speak. Still, that one word seemed to have an effect.
"H-he’s exceptional!" Harona, proud as ever, rushed to say more, albeit it sounded more like desperate justification than a defense.
"What kind of ignorant administrator calls someone with an average score exceptional?!" the Director snapped.
"I mean, if you would just observe him yourself—"
"Trial 17."
Harona remained silent.
"That should be fair enough," the Director added.
"But, sir—!"
Trial 17 was the infamous trial that forced subjects to kill each other. It was a brutal, no-holds-barred scenario that became wildly popular among the more bloodthirsty spectators. However, this trial was done only when there were just a few subjects left.
"But then, the rest will gang up on him. It’ll be a slaughter, not a test of skill or fairness—!"
"You’re still letting your emotions cloud your judgment."
"It’s not that, I just—" Harona wanted to say that this kind of trial was excessive. However, she bit her lip and stayed silent.
Deep down, she understood that this was not punishment, but prevention. It was a preemptive strike to ensure that mistake was never made again.
"You have my orders. Don’t be a fool and make the same mistake," the Director said flatly.
"... As you command.”
Fwoosh!
The ground that had consumed Harona and Choi Seung now expelled them violently, like something sour spat out by the earth. Choi Seung could barely stop himself from vomiting up the gritty sand in his mouth, but he held it in for now.
With a single wave of the Director’s hand, they were flung backward, expelled as if by force.
Creeeaak—!
Thud!
The heavy door slammed shut behind them.
Only after they had stumbled all the way back to the corridor near Harona’s office did Choi Seung finally spit out a mouthful of sand.
Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, Choi Seung said to Harona’s back as she walked ahead of him, “He will get killed.”
Harona stopped mid-step. “That’ll mean a massive point loss, won’t it?”
“What should we do then, Administrator Harona?”
It was obvious that the next trial would be fatal for Eun-Ho.
However, Harona had already made a personal investment in that candidate. He knew he’d bear the brunt of her frustration if she failed to recover her stake. And he was in no particular mood for that kind of drama.
“Besides, his strength is in his brain, not his physique,” Choi Seung added. “There’s no way he’ll survive.”
In his own way, Choi Seung was trying to dissuade her.
However, Harona tilted her head slightly and said, almost cheerfully, “Well, since we’re already here...”
Seung blinked in confusion. “Sorry, what?”
“A lone hero fighting against the world. That’s a compelling image, don’t you think?”
“Wait, don’t tell me you’re actually—”
Harona grinned like a kid who had just come up with the most brilliant idea.
“If we push him to the brink of death, we might be able to bring in some decent sponsorship funds.”
She was planning to throw him into danger on purpose, banking on the thrill to draw in support from observers. It was totally something Harona would do.
“But it’s too risky,” Choi Seung protested. “You know how it works. Every single person he sees will treat him as an enemy.”
“That’s going to happen eventually, anyway,” Harona replied with a shrug. “If this is the limit of his ability, then so be it.”
The calm on her face was infuriating. When Choi Seung furrowed his brows, Harona even smiled with an amused glint in her eyes.
“Who knows? Maybe he’ll spot a flaw in the system I couldn’t see and flip the game on its head,” Harona said.
“Well, sure. That’s worked so far, but—”
“No more backtalk. Send the Eye back down.”
For the first time all day, Harona’s twin braids, which had drooped like wet seaweed, gave a small, lively bounce as if sharing her excitement.
***
“Did your skill data increase?” Eun-Ho asked.
“Ugh no. Not even a little...” Ji-Eun slumped to the floor of the train car with disappointment.
She rotated her arm that was sore after throwing that heavy dagger hundreds of times.
“I don’t get it. I did the same thing I did earlier. Same throw, same power. Why isn’t it working?” Ji-Eun asked.
“Hmm... If the data did not register, then something must’ve been different,” Eun-Ho replied.
“I have no idea what kind of difference there is.”
They needed to retrace their steps. Where had they been? What were they missing?
We were inside a KTX train. Ji-Eun was there with a dagger. She used the same strength, at the same angle. Everything was repeated exactly the same, Eun-Ho thought.
Yet, according to Ji-Eun, she did not get any skill notification.
That leaves just one factor we’re still capable of changing.
“Do you want to try throwing it at me?”
“... Huh?”
“The target,” Eun-Ho clarified. “Earlier, you did not throw it at a chair. You threw it at the Grand Ghost. So let’s recreate that by throwing it at a clear target, me.”
Ji-Eun gawked at him. “You want me to throw a dagger at you?! That’s insane!”
“That’s the only condition we haven’t replicated. Don’t you want to unlock the skill?”
She flailed her hands in protest like he had just asked her to commit murder. “N-no way! I don’t care about a skill if it means hurting you!”
“Did you forget about my skill?” Eun-Ho asked calmly.
Ji-Eun froze, her outburst vanishing the moment she realized what he meant.
He was right. As long as he stayed focused, there was no danger. He could dodge it with his skill, Acceleration.
“If you unlock your skill, I’ll have an easier time too. It’s hard to keep fighting alone.”
Ji-Eun seemed shocked.
“Let’s give it one last shot. If it doesn’t work, we’ll let it go.”
Truthfully, Eun-Ho was not that tired. He was just pushing her guilt button because he knew Ji-Eun had a strong sense of responsibility.
Though she still looked uneasy, she finally picked up the dagger. She gripped it, released it, then gripped it again. Her face was a portrait of nervous tension.
“I’ll throw it. You better dodge well!”
“Don’t worry.”
Despite her nerves, her eyes sharpened. She focused, steadied her stance and let it fly.
Swoosh—!
Every time she did it, Eun-Ho noticed the same purity in her eyes. A total, unwavering focus on her target, driven by simple, unmistakable intent.
He would’ve admired its beauty if there wasn’t a deadly weapon flying straight at his face.
“Acceleration.”
Swoosh.
Eun-Ho stepped aside, casually dodging the dagger. This time, he let the full ten seconds of Acceleration play out.
Tick!
With the sound of a clock ticking, heard only in his ears, the world that had paused for a moment began to move once more.
Ji-Eun seemed shocked.
“It worked, right?” Eun-Ho asked.
“I can’t believe that was it,” JI-Eun replied.
Then, Eun-Ho thought about the system message he heard before.
[The parameters required for skill activation are being calculated.]
He was sure that Ji-Eun heard the same message he did. Since they had figured it out, now it was time to act.
“Let’s do it again.”
***
It was 8:00 PM; they were on their way back to the lodging after leaving Seoul Station.
Ji-Eun, walking beside Eun-Ho with soft footsteps, glanced up and asked quietly, “Umm... Eun-Ho?”
“Yeah?”
“About the skill data... Why won’t it go past ninety-nine percent?”
Just as he expected, Ji-Eun had pushed her skill data up to ninety-nine percent through repetitive training just like he had. However, just like his, it had stopped right there.
It was the same when I unlocked the Acceleration skill.
Back then, too, the data had hovered at ninety-nine percent until the very last moment. Only when he was about to die in the flames did the skill suddenly unlock.
“I think the final unlock needs some kind of trigger,” Eun-Ho said.
“A trigger?” Ji-Eun murmured, her expression growing serious as she stared ahead.
They kept walking in silence, under the deepening dusk and the hush of the sleeping city.
Then, clear as day, the public announcement rang out.
[Attention, survivors of the Seoul Station area.]
[The next trial will begin tomorrow at exactly 9:00 AM.]
“So tomorrow’s another nine o’clock start,” Eun-Ho noted.
“Feels like we’re punching in for work,” Ji-Eun replied.
Eun-Ho chuckled at the absurdity of it. If this was a job, it had to be the worst company imaginable—clocking in but never out. The kind of company that shoved people into death traps, then graded them like products.
[The final evaluation grades of this project have been calculated.]
Evaluation grade, huh?
He had previously received an S grade on the midterm assessment.
[Evaluation Subject: Lee Eun-Ho. Evaluation Grade: S+.]
[Congratulations!]
Huh? I got an S+?
Eun-Ho hesitated, puzzled by the “+.” What did it even mean? However, before the thought could settle, the announcement pressed on.
[The rank of Subject Lee Eun-Ho has been updated following successful completion of the Project Selection.]
[Please check your status screen.]
Rank? Since when did this system have ranks?
Confused, Eun-Ho opened his status window. Then, a holographic projection of himself appeared, along with a wall of text.
[Lee Eun-Ho]
- Affiliation: Sector 13, ROK-SEO-107 District, MS Tower
- Rank: Restructuring Target
- Stats: Stamina (12), Strength (11), Intelligence (10), Wisdom (15), Agility (15), Endurance (31)
- Traits: Locked
- Skills: Acceleration (Lv.2), Petrify (Lv. 8)
So affiliation and rank have changed. Wait. My agility is fifteen? Eun-Ho thought.
That couldn’t be right. His agility used to be one. He remembered the disappointment of seeing that pathetic number, penalized by his leg injury.
However, now it was back.
I guess I used my reward well, even if it wasn’t on purpose.
This system clearly had plenty of moving parts, and the more one understood it, the more they could use it to their advantage.
Even the way players could pass messages through gifts was part of that. There had to be more hidden features, waiting to be exploited.
I’ll squeeze every drop from this system.
[You have been rewarded with a point.]
[Calculating incentives based on evaluation grade.]
[Evaluation Grade: S+. Additional rewards acquired: 2 points and 1,500 Welfare Points.]
Eun-Ho was determined to get all the rewards he could. That was the only way to climb high enough—to even stand on the same playing field as those at the top.
Then, once he got there, he was ready to pay them back. His fist clenched tightly enough for his nails to dig into his palm, not that the system cared.
[Please choose your special incentive.]
Suddenly, a flash of blinding light exploded before his eyes, engulfing his vision. Even with his eyes shut, the intensity burned through.
The sheer brightness made his ears ring and his head swim. He fought the disorientation, shaking it off.
Ssssssk—
Then, a path began to take form from the tips of his feet outward. There were two distinct paths, slowly carving themselves into the ground, both leading toward strange gates in the distance.
There were two options in front of him.
[Please select your path.]
They were narrow, barely wide enough for a single person to walk through. However, they each had signs.
What do they say? The start and the end of training?
Whichever door he chose, it would take him somewhere else. Considering how rare this kind of reward was, he had to make the right choice.
[Please select your path!]
He didn’t know what was behind either gate. If he had to guess, it was a choice between a Growth-type reward and a finished, instant-use one.
In that case... I’ll go this way.