“The father of this child.”
At his calm words, Geuru flinched and drew her shoulders in.
“O-On Jurim…?”
It was just then that Jang Donghyuk stammered.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
On Suhyeong shouted as he approached with a chicken in each hand.
But the man paid him no heed and tried to slap Jang Donghyuk again, only for On Suhyeong to step in and stop him.
“Enough! That will do!”
“Chairman On!”
With both cheeks swollen, Jang Donghyuk reddened around the eyes and protested his grievance.
“What is this man? Is he an employee? Fire him immediately! Otherwise, my family will not let this go!”
“No, just what happened to make his face look like this…?”
The man lifted Geuru into his arms, covered the child’s ears, and said,
“This spiteful bastard hit my child and said she had no roots, so I’m giving her some roots.”
Jang Donghyuk clenched his teeth, startled.
“No, that’s just a manner of speaking! That doesn’t mean you can beat someone like this—”
Smack!
Jang Donghyuk’s face snapped to the side again as he continued speaking.
This time, it was On Suhyeong who had raised his hand.
“Well done. Yes, if she has no roots, then you simply need to plant some.”
On Suhyeong, who had momentarily lost his temper, quickly regained his composure and straightened his clothes.
“Secretary Kim. Do you know what this bastard does?”
“There’s no need for that. You’re the aides of the chief of the Security Office over there, aren’t you?”
On Ijo tilted up his hat slightly.
At that, several people who had been anxiously watching the situation nearby rose from their seats.
They had tried to keep their identities hidden, but their dismayed expressions showed plainly that they realized their opponent already knew who they were.
“I’m counting on you. Make sure this is handled quietly. You understand, right?”
He tapped the brim of his hat.
He meant that if he was not to reveal his identity here, they had better conduct themselves properly.
The aides of Choi Cheonho, the chief of the Security Office, hurried over and began dragging away Jang Donghyuk and his party.
“What is the meaning of this…!”
“What the hell! Who is that guy for you to act like this? Do you know who I am? Huh?!”
“We’ll take care of this on our end.”
The aides bowed deeply before taking Jang Donghyuk and the others out of the stadium.
“Now we can finally enjoy ourselves.”
On Ijo let out a long sigh, then lifted Geuru onto his lap.
Geuru sat there with her mouth hanging open, her face still in shock.
She had no idea what had just happened. She had heard something being smacked—smack, smack—while she was standing behind him.
“What happened to Popcorn Mister?”
“Mm-hm. Popcorn Mister had drunk too much and said he couldn’t stay at the baseball stadium, so I sent him out. Uncle did a good job, right?”
“Um…….”
“And Popcorn Mister said he was sorry for drinking too much and doing something bad to Geuru. He asked me to tell you.”
“He did?”
He had looked nothing like that. Popcorn Mister had resisted until the very end as they dragged him away.
But On Ijo merely smiled, kissed Geuru’s cheek, and gave her a short answer.
“Mm-hm.”
“……”
Though she had not seen it, she could infer it from the words she had heard.
A child picked up off the street. An adopted child. A child unrelated by blood.
That was the superficial status assigned to her by the public.
But it was all right. No matter what anyone said, she was still the daughter of On Ijo and On Jurim.
Geuru thought of On Ijo, who had proudly declared that she was his daughter even when he could not reveal his identity.
A warm, steadfast feeling began to take root in her heart.
The child hugged On Ijo tightly, patted his back, and whispered her feelings into his ear.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
On Ijo’s eyes widened in surprise before he pulled Geuru into a tight embrace.
“You’re welcome, my daughter.”
*
Near a sparsely populated wetland ecology park.
On Jurim frowned as he confirmed his daughter’s face on his phone screen.
While he had been suffering for days on end.
Was his father enjoying himself with his daughter?
Jurim checked several more of On Suhyeong’s social media posts, each filled with pictures of Geuru.
Unless he had suddenly felt the urge to flaunt his love for his granddaughter, there was no reason for his father to go this far. Had something happened?
It was while Jurim was brooding over the matter that—
“Guild Master!”
Whoosh!
A massive shadow swung its foreleg violently behind him.
Jurim lightly blocked the foreleg with the hand that was not holding his phone.
Then he raised his head.
It was a quadrupedal monster, its body wrapped in a spine and ribs, with sharp spikes protruding from its back.
The monster was so enormous that Jurim had to look up to meet its face.
“Kraaaaaaaaaaah!”
Its roar seemed capable of tearing the air apart, sending his hair and coat fluttering.
[Failed Bone Crevron (AAA)]
‘Bone Crevron…….’
Jurim recited the monster’s name inwardly.
Before he could lift a finger, Nayeon’s silver vines coiled around the Bone Crevron.
“Shall I capture it alive?”
“One.”
They needed one up above.
Nayeon nodded.
While she captured the Bone Crevron alive, Jurim lit a cigarette.
‘AAA…….’
The higher a monster’s rank, the more difficult it was for it to cross through space.
Unless it possessed a skill that could tear space apart, like Malikian.
Then this was……
Either the first officially recorded dungeon break since the Great Cataclysm—a phenomenon in which monsters poured out of dungeons—
Or someone had deliberately caused a dungeon break.
If it was the former, they could simply deploy Hunters as a one-time response.
But if it was the latter—
Depending on the objective, dungeon breaks could occur one after another.
Moreover, that was not the only thing troubling him.
‘Failed.’
It could mean that artificial manipulation had been involved.
*
With the cold water running full blast, On Ijo washed his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
The 99th-floor snowfield was far too incomplete.
He could not restore the conditions from the time when the Tower had been implemented, and he had not yet taken control of the ‘system.’
At that moment, as his thoughts grew tangled, the title activated.
[There’s a perfectly suitable candidate for the 99th floor. You have no need to hesitate. You can build the Tower right now!]
It was referring to Geuru.
Ever since the title had seen Geuru recreate the exact same snowfield as the 99th floor,
it had delightedly curled up inside his mind, constantly tempting him with the same words.
But—
I can do it without Geuru.
Like the other Gnosis, he did not regard the Tower as salvation, nor as the starting point of a new era.
To him, the Tower was merely a testing ground.
[While churning out nothing but failed specimens? You’re happy too, aren’t you? Your daughter could become the master of the 99th floor—how wonderful would that be!]
His heart pounded as though it might burst, and every muscle in his body thrashed.
On Ijo suppressed the title, which kept trying to burst into laughter.
But judging by how difficult it was, he must have already assimilated considerably with the title.
On Ijo plunged his face into the cold water once more.