In the city of Antreas, there stood a bustling restaurant known as Urban Spatula. The place was always full of customers, drawn in by both the delicious food and the excellent service.
Mounted on one of the restaurant's walls was a medium-sized television.
That day, the TV was broadcasting breaking news—news so captivating that everyone in the room turned their attention to it in silence.
"Viewers, a shocking announcement has just been made by the guild currently ranked number one in the world. After clearing floors 71 through 80 in just two years, none other than Guild Shadow has now announced that they are recruiting a new member—from the country of Anters."
"Surprisingly, the guild has placed no rank restrictions for applicants. This has caused a flood of hunters from all ranks rushing to register."
"But isn't this suspicious? Why would the top guild need to recruit someone new?" one customer whispered to his two tablemates.
"Right? It sounds like they're looking for a scapegoat or a monster sacrifice," one of them replied immediately.
"What if they've been working with the dark powers all along? It's suspicious! I mean, how could a four-member guild clear ten floors in just two years—when no one in the world managed to do it for the past five?" the third added, his tone dark and unsettling, making the others fall quiet.
Meanwhile, a young man seated at the cashier's desk overheard their conversation.
His crimson eyes glanced flatly at the group, sending a chill down their spines. With spiky white hair and a slightly messy fringe that fell over his forehead, the man exuded a cold, eerie presence.
His name was Sean.
Sean's gaze shifted slightly to the television, which now displayed the images of the four members of Guild Shadow. His eyes locked onto Kael Zeaven, one of the guild members—someone from his past.
A flicker of high school memories returned. Sean remembered being bullied by a rich kid, with Kael silently standing behind him, part of his entourage.
Sean quickly looked away, focusing instead on a customer handing him cash—trying to push the bitterness down.
---
As the sky darkened, Sean was cleaning up and preparing to head home.
"Sean, can you come here for a moment?" an older man called out.
The man was Rian, the owner of the restaurant—Sean's boss.
Sean approached with a strange feeling in his gut.
"What is it, sir?"
"This is for you. You don't have to come in tomorrow."
Rian placed a brown envelope on the counter.
Sean stared in silence, then glanced up.
Rian turned and walked away, leaving behind parting words.
"It's for the best. Go home—and find a better job."
Sean stood frozen, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
He bowed his head slightly in the direction of his boss's retreating figure.
Then, grabbing the envelope full of money, he quietly left the restaurant.
Inside, Rian pulled out his phone and made a call.
Beep
"Hello? I did what you asked."
"Don't worry, sir. We keep our promises. A pleasure doing business with you."
Beep
The old man sighed heavily, not knowing what Guild Shadow wanted from Sean—or why they had demanded he be fired.
Even if they hadn't asked, he might've done it anyway.
Sean… always gave him an uneasy feeling.
---
Night fell like a cold blanket over the city. The streetlights cast a pale yellow glow, barely pushing back the creeping silence.
In one corner of a lonely sidewalk, a man sat slouched on a rusted bench.
Sean leaned back, eyes fixed on the night sky. Stars twinkled faintly above.
His deep red eyes stared into the void above, his thoughts tangled and stormy. A single tear slid down his cheek, dripping slowly past his chin.
Reluctantly, Sean rose from the bench, forcing his legs to move as he made his way home.
---
A small door creaked open.
Sean entered a modest 10-by-10 meter house, with only a tiny bathroom to one side.
He quickly stepped into the bathroom to clean up—Sean was the type who valued cleanliness and order.
Though the house was small, it was tidy and pleasant.
The bathroom door swung open. Sean, freshly cleaned, dressed himself quickly.
He dropped onto the bed, his thoughts racing—how to find money, how to pay off his debts.
Trophies from school lined the wall beside his bed. Dozens of them. But they brought no comfort tonight.
His eyes slowly drifted to the ceiling, the dim light above casting shadows across his face.
Then, with a soft exhale, he closed his eyes—as if finally letting go of a weight far too heavy.
---
Three Months Earlier…
A man opened his eyes for the first time in a long while.
Disoriented, he scanned the room. The last thing he remembered was walking into a convenience store—before a rift cracked open in the sky. A dungeon disaster. Monsters pouring out. Then... nothing. He woke up here, in a hospital bed.
"You're awake, Mr. Sean," a doctor beside him greeted gently.
"W–wa…ter," Sean croaked, his throat parched and dry.
The doctor quickly helped him drink from a cup.
Once he was done, the doctor asked with concern,
"Are you feeling any pain? Is anything wrong with your body?"
Sean didn't respond. His eyes wandered the room—until they landed on a digital wall clock showing the date and year.
And then his heart skipped a beat.
According to the clock, it was now year XXXX.
The dungeon incident had occurred in year XXXX.
He had been in a coma—for two years.
"Mr. Sean, are you in any pain?" the doctor asked again.
Sean slowly shook his head.
Understanding, the doctor changed the topic.
"Do you have any family or relatives we can contact?"
Sean shook his head again, this time more firmly.
He was an orphan—raised in an institution until junior high. After that, he had lived alone, in a quiet corner of the city.