Chick 316
by Cristae316
Jin Siwon hurriedly entered the Hunter Administration Bureau’s headquarters.
“We need your help urgently—could you come this way?”
It was a summons from Go Kang, Director of the Hunter Administration Bureau.
Knock knock.
As Jin Siwon performed the formal knock and entered, the first thing he saw was On Joorim turning to look back at him.
“You’re here. We can begin now.”
Go Kang, Director of the Hunter Administration Bureau.
“Ah, Team Leader Jin Siwon, is it? It’s been a while.”
Behind him, the Minister of the Interior and Safety extended his hand in greeting.
“Hello.”
He hadn’t seen him since the naturalization process, so it really had been some time.
After Jin exchanged greetings with the Association President and several State Council members, Go Kang called him over.
“This way, please.”
“Yes.”
Responding to Go Kang’s summons, Jin Siwon moved to the center of the monitor room.
Beyond the glass, Professor Kim was attaching a polygraph to someone.
As Jin Siwon turned his head to check the face of the man wearing the polygraph, Go Kang spoke to him in a grave tone.
“Team Leader Jin, let me just say in advance—what happens today is of the utmost secrecy.”
Utmost secrecy? Jin Siwon looked past Go Kang at the scene inside.
Just as Professor Kim stepped aside, the man’s face came fully into view.
“……!”
At the sight of the man’s features, a gasp slipped from Jin Siwon’s lips like a moan.
“Hunter On Ijo……?”
He resembled On Joorim, but with a gentle demeanor.
Those dimples that appeared deep on both cheeks when he smiled—impossible not to recognize.
Her older brother, who ascended the tower alongside On Joorim.
The hero who vanished with the 100th floor.
On Ijo.
He turned trembling eyes to On Joorim, as if seeking confirmation that this was truly On Ijo.
“…….”
But On Joorim avoided his gaze, folding her arms across her chest, and Go Kang answered on her behalf.
“We’d like you to determine whether or not that is the case.”
On Ijo tapped his fingers lightly.
Each tap made the polygraph’s sensors at his fingertips knock softly against the armrest of the chair.
“It’s a polygraph, I see.”
On Ijo sounded indifferent, but Professor Kim, already somewhat flustered, rushed to explain.
“It’s just a formality. Please don’t be nervous and answer comfortably.”
“Ahaha, just a formality. I see.”
On Ijo nodded in understanding. He knew well that complaining to Professor Kim about such procedural nuisance would be pointless.
Contrary to usual, Professor Kim sat across from On Ijo, visibly tense.
Who on this earth could fail to be affected in the presence of a hero—On Ijo?
He glanced once at On Ijo’s gentle smile, then began the interrogation.
“I’ll start by confirming your name.”
“On Ijo.”
Checking the readout, Professor Kim continued his questions.
“And your age?”
At that, On Ijo hesitated briefly, counting in his head.
“As of this year…I’m thirty.”
“The walls here—are they cement-gray?”
“Yes, they are.”
A polygraph detects physiological changes indicating stress or untruth.
Thus, it was necessary to establish a clear baseline, and a few more trivial questions followed to calibrate it.
Professor Kim asked about the color of On Ijo’s glasses, about today’s weather, all while tracking the readout and nervously adjusting his grip on the questionnaire.
The baseline was set.
Was this man truly On Ijo?
With sharp eyes, Professor Kim studied On Ijo.
He looked entirely untroubled. In fact, it was Professor Kim himself who was tense and uneasy.
Moistening dry lips, he asked:
“Is it true that you have no memories of what happened since the conquest?”
“It’s true.”
Since On Ijo’s reappearance, all sectors had been put on alert.
It had been six years since On Ijo conquered the tower.
Where could he possibly have been, and what had he been doing all that time?
But On Ijo claimed to remember nothing of that period.
His sibling and father had both testified that the man before them was indeed On Ijo, but the government required absolute certainty—was this truly On Ijo?
And it was also vital to clarify what had happened during those years.
Today’s session was convened for precisely that.
“How did you know Ms. On Groo was your biological daughter?”
“Hmm… The first thing I did upon regaining awareness was search for Groo’s mother. At that time, I wasn’t even aware a child existed. In that process, I encountered a renowned fixer, and through him, I learned about Groo.”
A faint tremor ran through Professor Kim’s fingers.
If this man really was On Ijo—
His answers now could overturn the world.
“What was the 100th floor like?”
On Ijo smiled deeply.
“It’s all true.”
Jin Siwon, seated in the monitor room, observing On Ijo, confirmed.
This was just as On Ijo answered it was true he had no memory.
“He really doesn’t remember?”
“So we have no idea what he’s been doing or where he’s been until now?”
“How could that be…”
“It must have something to do with what happened on the 100th floor…”
Murmured voices spread through the room.
Jin Siwon let the whispers pass and concentrated on On Ijo.
So did On Joorim, standing with arms crossed beside him.
Jin Siwon tried to avoid looking at the others. Their collective confusion was so overwhelming it made his head spin.
For now, he needed to focus his mind-reading skill solely on On Ijo.
‘So after conquering the 100th floor, he lost all memory and couldn’t come back?’
His skill: Barret’s Whisper (SSS).
Unless On Ijo possessed a way to counter an SSS-class skill, his words had to be true.
Jin Siwon pressed his tired eyes with his fingers.
“What was the 100th floor like?”
With that question, a sudden stillness fell over the room.
Everyone held their breath when they heard the question about the 100th floor.
“Well, shall I start by recounting how many times I’ve described the 100th floor?”
On Ijo shrugged his shoulders as if bored.
Clearly, he’d recounted his 100th-floor experience many times before.
Flustered, Professor Kim asked,
“I know it’s tedious, but could you please tell us once again?”
“Hm…”
On Ijo smiled, remaining silent for a long while.
The monitor room felt frozen in time.
“The 100th floor—”
Gulp.
Someone’s swallowing echoed loudly in the silence.
Within that hush, On Ijo raised his open hands and, showing his empty palms, spoke,
“There was—absolutely nothing.”
On Ijo lowered his eyes, lost in thought.
He recalled vividly the moment he passed beyond the 99th floor, ascending to the 100th.
The 100th floor was truly nothingness itself.
An absence, so complete it barely qualified as a space at all—a veritable “void.”
In that dark expanse, indistinguishable between up and down, he felt a chaos akin to the annihilation of his very being.
Not even the being he had so privately feared—the Master of the 99th Floor—appeared.
There was only a single window that opened before his eyes.
“You are the closest being to a god among the humanity of this current civilization. Do you consent to permanently relinquish all your skills and powers to complete the conquest of the tower?”
Professor Kim’s eyes shook violently at On Ijo’s answer.
So did all those gathered in the monitor room.
They’d heard the story several times already, yet still could hardly believe it.
The being closest to a god among humanity had to give up his powers.
What state of mind could allow someone to choose that?