-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Became a Hunter with the Heavenly Murder Star Trait
-----------------------------------------------------------------
[Lee Tae-pyeong]
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Babel Tower Entries: 1] [Granting commemorative trait upon entry.]
Right.
The trait.
They said I'd get a trait the moment I entered the Tutorial.
There's still a chance.
If a decent trait pops up...
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Trait: Heavenly Murder Star]
Huh?
Heavenly Murder Star?
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Granting skill based on trait.] ⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Skill: Talent for Murder] ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Urgh..."
A cold night breeze swept along the banks of the Han River.
I stared at the flowing water, a lukewarm bottle of soju clamped between my lips.
'What the hell am I supposed to do now.'
I'd cried so much that no more tears would come.
All that remained were the dried tracks on my cheeks.
"Haaah..."
I let out a deep sigh and glanced around.
Groups of people were laughing and chatting over chicken, ramen, cola, and beer.
On any other day, I might have been right there with them, casually slurping down a bowl of ramen.
But...
'I can't even afford a single chicken anymore.'
Chicken? Hell, I couldn't even buy a pack of ramen.
No, even the fare to get home was iffy at best.
How the hell did things end up like this?
Anyone in Korea has heard of it at least once.
On the news, or from folks around them.
Jeonse fraud.
Yeah, that exact thing.
The vicious scam that smashes innocent tenants right in the back of the head—no, pulverizes them.
Who would've thought the officetel I'd signed for just a few months ago was the trap of that infamous con artist plastered all over the news?
I never dreamed it.
I was just thrilled.
Thrilled that I finally had a place I could call 'home.'
For me, 'home' meant more than it did for most people.
I'd grown up in an orphanage.
Life there wasn't happy or unhappy.
Because from a young age, I never wanted for anything.
No expectations meant no disappointments.
That lesson, learned before I even hit puberty, had helped me more than I could say.
Eighteen years old.
The age when I had to leave the orphanage.
I headed straight to a goshiwon.
The first thing I bought with my support money? A tablet, of course.
Back in middle school, I'd gotten hooked on comics and started drawing like crazy. Turns out, I had some talent.
By high school, I was even picking up a few freelance gigs.
Leveraging that experience, I started working as an assistant.
While others went to college, dated, traveled...
I spent my days crammed in a goshiwon room stuffed with nothing but a bed and desk, drawing like a madman.
But it wasn't torture.
With a part-time job on top, money was tight, but I could survive on my own.
And I could nurture my dream of becoming a webtoon artist someday.
Above all, my creed—no expectations, no disappointments—gave me strength.
Right up until the jeonse fraud.
A pittance in savings and loans.
All of it turned into crushing debt.
I couldn't believe it.
Why me? Why this?
All I ever wanted was an ordinary life.
Was even that too much to ask?
"Heh heh heh..."
I let out a mad little chuckle, like some lunatic.
A nearby couple, happily tearing into their chicken, shot me a look.
"Maybe I should just kill myself."
The words slipped out unbidden as I stared at the Han River.
And then, like a divine revelation.
There, far off—a billboard on a building caught my eye.
Among the sea of signs and ads, one blazed overwhelmingly bright.
[Challenge it! And claim your prize!]
Flashy CG rolled with spotlit Hunters dashing by.
[1234-7777 ∥ Babel Tower Climber Management Bureau]
A phone number floated beneath a spinning purple magic stone.
"..."
Yeah.
If I'm gonna kill myself...
Might as well go out with a bang.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I'd just seen.
"...Is this the Babel Tower Climber Management Bureau?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The Babel Tower Climber Management Bureau.
Unofficially known as the Hunter Management Bureau.
While civilians and the media called them Babel Tower Climbers, Hunter stuck more commonly, so that's what they became.
Twenty years ago, a Tower appeared smack in the middle of Seoul.
It wasn't just Seoul, either.
A global phenomenon.
Enormous towers piercing the stratosphere sprouted in the capital of every nation.
America dubbed them Babel—and that's the official name for these mysteries that stuck.
America scouted their Babel Tower first, but the results were disastrous.
The lone conclusion? The Towers were illusions that didn't truly exist.
Videos of combat helicopters passing straight through went viral worldwide.
And one question bloomed.
So how the hell do you even get inside?
The answer came soon enough.
[Humanity's First Babel Tower Entry Success!]
[Tower Secrets Finally Revealed?]
Truth was, entering a Babel Tower was ridiculously easy.
Anyone—man, woman, child—could waltz right in, no questions asked.
The catch? Coming back out.
[Tower Survivor's Testimony: "It was hell in there!"]
Average survival rate post-entry: 8%.
Abysmal odds.
As people vanishing inside skyrocketed, entries plummeted.
Plummeted to near zero.
Items like magic stones fetched top dollar inside, so entry alone could mean riches...
But the iron law of reality held even in the Tower.
You only get one life.
Hunter shortages weren't Korea's problem alone—they plagued the world.
-Just don't climb the damn Tower, problem solved?
-It's not even real anyway;
Opinions like that existed.
Until North Korea's Demonization.
After that? Not a trace to be found, even if you scoured with bleach.
Demonization.
Fail to raid the Tower for too long, and dimensional rifts crack open around it.
That's what hit dead center in Pyongyang.
Rifts unleash monsters and otherworlders you'd only see inside the Tower. Plus, terraforming kicks in.
Inside the Tower, even scrubs have traits and skills for a last stand.
Outside? Hunters are just human.
Traits and skills nerfed, restrictions galore.
Fighting in the Tower is overwhelmingly better.
North Korea's textbook case taught the world: better raid Towers than face Demonization in reality.
North Korea had banned Tower climbs from the start.
To eliminate threats, unify the nation.
But Demonization and terraforming forced them to beg China and Russia for help—they barely survived.
Afterward, Tower raiding became every nation's homework.
Hunter recruitment? A global imperative.
Countries like America and Japan lured with patriotism and fat stacks of cash.
China and Russia? Forced conscription.
And Korea...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Tsk tsk."
At the Babel Tower Climber Management Bureau's reception desk.
Two civil servants handling intake and guidance eyed the awkward guy in the waiting room.
One clicked her tongue, flipping through the registration form.
The name on it: Lee Tae-pyeong.
25 years old. Prime of youth, and he's applying to be a Tower Climber?
"I get he's in a rough spot, but..."
She glanced past the form at Lee Tae-pyeong.
"Another suicide hopeful clocks in today."
"Don't jinx it. Some do come back alive."
"A precious few, yeah."
The woman beside her shut her mouth.
It was the truth.
Korea had fewer than a hundred Hunters total.
Sky-high mortality rate.
Tutorial survival stats: 8%.
That's Korea's numbers. Globally? 4%.
Korea's bureau backed Tutorial entrants with policies, bumping survival a bit.
Other countries only supported proven survivors.
Like a qualification check.
Korea aided even fresh Tutorial divers.
Had to, for new blood.
Still pitiful, though.
Even with state support.
92 out of 100 died.
"Think he'll make it?"
"He better."
"Why?"
"Poor guy's desperate."
"Fair..."
"Victim of jeonse fraud."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Korea has a special law for Babel Tower Climbers.
One clause was mighty tempting to some.
Aspiring climbers get minor criminal records wiped—and all debts forgiven.
Early on, plenty griped about it.
But once climbing equaled dying, complaints dried up.
Folks with nothing left to lose had no choice but to step up.
Suicide hopefuls masquerading as climbers? The jab wasn't far off.
"All read through?"
"Y-Yes? Uh, yeah. Yes."
Not used to chit-chat, I'd stammered three times. The civil servant didn't bat an eye, just pointed to the signature line.
"Sign here, and you're an aspiring climber."
"Right..."
Gulp.
The moment I sign, I'm a suicide... no, aspiring climber.
Debts vanish on the spot.
But.
Tutorial entry becomes mandatory.
Post-Tutorial climbs are optional... if you survive.
'Wasn't this a suicide run anyway?'
Go big or go home.
All or nothing.
Success in death, or debt wiped clean.
I took the pen from the civil servant.
And.
[Lee Tae-pyeong]
No fancy signature—just my name, scrawled plain.
I set the pen down. He snatched the form, checked the ink.
"Mr. Lee Tae-pyeong."
"Yes."
"Aspiring climber status granted as of now."
"Okay..."
Why did relief wash over me more than dread?
My creed at work—no expectations, no disappointments.
Yeah, I expected nothing.
Not to become the world's top Hunter.
Not to conquer the Tower and save the world from Demonization.
Not even mountains of cash or crowds cheering my name.
Zero hype.
"Phew..."
A soft sigh escaped. The stiff-faced civil servant cracked a faint smile.
"Alright, I'll guide you to your dorm for now."
"Dorm...?"
"Yes. For the three months of Tutorial prep training, you'll get lodging, meals, and essentials provided."
I gawked. He backpedaled.
"Oh, not mandatory, of course. If you'd rather stay home..."
"N-No! I mean, yes!"
"Pardon?"
"I need it! Lodging! Meals too!"
...Suicide hopeful? Might not suck after all.