{Palace of Memories and Mysteries}
The estate unfolds like a dream made manifest—manicured gardens where bioluminescent plants create constellations on earth, automated systems that anticipate every need with supernatural precision, and a personal training ground that could host professional tournaments. The mansion itself represents a masterpiece of architectural ambition, where cutting-edge technology bows respectfully to classical elegance.
A robot dog comes to Jin-Seok. He pats it and says, "Go play by yourself today. A friend is visiting." The dog goes back sadly.
Inside, history lives in every corner like a museum dedicated to legends and impossible achievements. Portraits line the hallways—not of Jin-Seok's family, but of heroes, warriors, and figures from the Tower's most celebrated expeditions. Weapons adorn the walls like holy relics: ancient blades that hum with residual power, staves scorched by battles fought in realms beyond human understanding, armor that bears the scars of conflicts that shaped the modern world.
Do-Hyun moves through the halls like a pilgrim visiting sacred sites, his eyes wide with wonder that borders on religious experience.
"These can't be real..." he breathes, his voice hushed with the kind of awe usually reserved for natural disasters and divine intervention.
Jin-Seok says nothing, leading his friend deeper into the mansion's heart with the practiced ease of someone who has walked these halls countless times.
They enter the grand hall, where glass cases display robes and weapons with the reverence usually reserved for crown jewels. Each piece is tagged with names, dates, and achievements—a private collection that spans decades of Tower climbing history. The lighting is perfect, designed to showcase each artifact's unique properties and historical significance.
Do-Hyun stops before a black robe lined with threads that seem to capture and hold starlight, its fabric rippling with barely contained energy despite being motionless behind protective glass. Beside it rests a sword, its blade cracked but still radiating power like a banked fire waiting for the breath that will bring it to full flame.
"That's... that's from the Flame War..." he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion as he recognizes artifacts from his most cherished legends. "And that robe—wasn't it in the Sovereign documentary? The one worn during the battle against the Dragon?"
His attention shifts to an old photograph displayed with particular prominence, its colors faded but its subjects still vibrant with captured life. Ryu Han-Seok stands in the center, his smile confident and warm, surrounded by figures whose faces have been deliberately blurred by time, distance, or careful editing.
"That's him," Do-Hyun says, his voice carrying the reverence of a believer witnessing tangible proof of miracles. "That's actually Ryu Han-Seok. In person. This is a real photograph."
"Are these replicas?" he asks, though his tone suggests he already suspects the answer will complicate everything he thought he knew about his friend.
Jin-Seok nods, the lie sliding off his tongue like water, smooth and practiced. "The previous owner was... a collector. A devoted fan of Han-Seok's achievements. I grew up surrounded by his stories and his legends."
"You're an even bigger fanboy than I am," Do-Hyun says, but his voice carries no mockery—only understanding and a growing sense that there are depths to his friend that he's never suspected.
Jin-Seok gazes at the photograph with an expression that might be longing, might be grief, might be the complex mixture of love and loss that comes with memories too precious and too painful to examine directly.
"Maybe," he says softly. "I grew up with his stories. They shaped who I became."
{Dinner and the Weight of Secrets}
A premium meal arrives on golden trays carried by the robot butler, each dish a masterpiece that would grace royal tables or the most exclusive restaurants in Kairo's entertainment district. Do-Hyun eats with the appreciation of someone who understands that he's experiencing something extraordinary, but his eyes never stop cataloging the impossible wealth that surrounds them.
"You absolute bastard," he says finally, setting down his chopsticks with ceremonial precision.
Jin-Seok raises an eyebrow with practiced innocence. "Problem?"
"You've been acting like a broke student for three years. I've bought you snacks, worried about your meal budget, shared my lunch when you claimed you forgot yours—and you live in a palace that probably has its own zip code!"
Jin-Seok's smile is genuine for the first time all evening, touched with the kind of warmth that he rarely allows himself to show. "I never asked you to do any of that. You chose to be generous."
"You owe me. Big time. We're talking about years of accumulated debt here."
They laugh together, the sound echoing through the grand dining hall like music, but as the evening deepens and the city's lights begin to paint the windows in shifting hues, Do-Hyun's expression grows serious with the weight of questions that have been building all night.
"You're really not climbing the Tower?" he asks, his voice soft with something that might be grief, might be confusion, might be the desperate hope that his friend will change his mind.
"I've told you a hundred times. I'm not interested in chasing glory or power."
Do-Hyun sighs, the sound carrying years of frustrated friendship and dreams that will have to be pursued alone. "I got accepted to a mid-tier guild. The sponsor isn't amazing, but it's a real chance at advancement, at making something of myself. I could save you a spot if you changed your mind..."
Jin-Seok's smile is gentle but carries a finality that closes the door on possibilities. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Just..." Do-Hyun hesitates, then forges ahead with the determination that made their friendship possible in the first place. "Just don't regret it, alright?"
"I won't regret it."
"We'll see."
They stare at each other for a moment, the weight of unspoken words between them.
"I should go," Do-Hyun says finally. "Early morning tomorrow. Guild orientation."
"Yeah. Me too. I've got... things to take care of."
The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving Jin-Seok alone in the vast dining room.
{The Message from Beyond}
An hour later, Jin-Seok sits alone in his room. The mansion feels different now—emptier, quieter.
The weight of the day presses against his shoulders—graduation, friendship, the constant whispers about wasted potential and missed opportunities.
His grandfather's voice echoes in memory, warm with love and heavy with the kind of regret that comes from understanding consequences too late:
"If I don't come back on time... open it."
His hands tremble as he pulls the drawer open and lifts out a pendant that seems to pulse with its own heartbeat. The device is elegant, ancient, touched with the kind of craftsmanship that belongs to ages when magic and technology danced together in perfect harmony. Activation requires only a touch, a whisper of intent, and suddenly the room fills with light and memory made manifest.
Ryu Han-Seok appears as a flickering projection, older than the man in the photographs downstairs, wearier, but still carrying that fundamental warmth that made the world love him. Time has carved lines around his eyes, and something like profound sorrow has settled in the set of his shoulders.
"If you're hearing this, it means I'm still out there—or I made the decision to stay."
"I went back into the Tower because I had unfinished business. Mistakes. Failures. People I let slip through my fingers. I couldn't move on. I had to try. Even if the odds were slim… I had to face it all one last time."
"You don't have to follow me, Jin-Seok. You're free now—free to live a quiet life, to choose your own path, to find happiness."
Another pause, longer this time, weighted with the kind of silence that precedes life-changing revelations.
"Or… climb the Tower. Face its horrors. Walk a path of thorns. Learn who you really are."
"You'll find out who you are. How special you are. Still… if you come far enough… you might find me again. If I'm still alive, that is.
The Tower won't be a quiet path. But kid…"
A long pause.
Then a crooked smile.
"Deep down, we both know what choice you'll make. It was never really a question, was it?"
The image fades, leaving behind only darkness and the weight of destiny made manifest.
{The Calling Answered}
Jin-Seok stands on his balcony as the night wind tugs at his hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the Tower waits like a patient predator. Even from thousands of kilometers away, it dominates the landscape of imagination—an obsidian wound carved into reality itself, pulsing with the kind of power that rewrites the laws of physics and possibility.
The city sprawls below him like a circuit board of dreams and ambitions, eight million souls pursuing their own versions of greatness, but his eyes remain fixed on that distant spire of mystery and menace.
Jin-Seok (softly):
"A quiet life, huh?"
"You never really expected me to stay behind, did you, old man?"
He grips the railing, eyes fixed on the Tower.
"You just wanted me to make the choice myself."
A faint smile touches his lips.
"Alright then… let's see
what the Tower has for me."
The wind howls.
Far in the distance, the Tower pulses with silent light.
Fade to black.
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{An Original Series by Celestial Raven}