I Became a Monster in a T*ash Game

―♪♩♬♪
In the pitch-dark dawn, the alarm rang. Muhae woke with a jolt, feeling as if he’d never been asleep.
He slid the covers off as he rose; the blanket slipped away. Beside him, Joo-o’s gentle snores peeked out.
His eyelids still heavy, hair tousled—otherwise no crease marred his face.
Sometimes he’d burrow into the blankets like this, his head pressed against Muhae’s chest with only the top of his skull poking free.
Muhae wondered if it felt suffocating, yet he was grateful Joo-o didn’t lie facing him.
Waking up to Joo-o’s face inches away would feel strange.
‘He always sleeps some distance apart.’
Muhae slipped quietly from the bed. He needed to go down to the hideout soon for his talk with Cloud.
He didn’t bother waking Joo-o. If Joo-o noticed and followed, he’d listen too; if not, that was fine.
No matter what noise Joo-o made, the final decisions were Muhae’s. Letting him sleep wasn’t a bad idea.
“Hehmm. Jin Muhae.”
Of course Joo-o stirred quickly and called his name. Though he usually slept so deeply that he wouldn’t notice being poked, he snapped awake at the slightest sound in moments like this.
Muhae quietly guessed it was due to erratic sleep patterns. Occasionally Joo-o’s sleep would be restless with nightmares.
He claimed he couldn’t recall the dreams, but when they happened, his heart pounded like someone fleeing.
Maybe he was reliving past memories in his dreams? Dr. Jeong said that could happen….
“Smells like… Jin Muhae.”
Joo-o’s identity was still a mystery. When they entered Jaegang District and formally registered him in Goryeo City, Muhae could only note “Man rescued at the accident site.”
He couldn’t help but suspect the absurd theory that Joo-o was a Solar City test subject. But stepping back, it seemed each idea was mere personal delusion.
After all, stories of Solar City experiments were just urban legends. Still, Muhae was sure Joo-o’s past wasn’t pleasant.
Woken in the dead of night, Joo-o had been terrified, lips trembling, not even knowing his own state.
He reached blindly to grab Muhae—not so much seeking “Jin Muhae” as seeking “another person.”
“If you’re up, put on clothes and come down.”
“I already have.”
“Put on pants. What do you think that is, a dress?”
Luckily he snapped back to normal soon after waking. Right now he flitted before Muhae, bare-legged and carefree.
After arriving in Jaegang District, Muhae bought Joo-o several outfits—only to find they were all for going out.
Joo-o claimed he’d left his ragged home clothes behind, then boldly helped himself to Muhae’s.

Joo-o wasn’t small, but Muhae knew he was larger than average. Seeing such a size gap felt odd, like cuddling with someone half-grown.
“Cloud’s gonna ask something else. Right?”
“Probably. I gave you more than you deserve.”
“Hmph. It was mine first.”
Muttering, Joo-o glanced at Muhae. Muhae pretended not to hear.
Whether others realized it or not, those clothes weren’t Muhae’s—they were assets of his late father, now gone.
For Muhae to arrogantly claim “What’s mine is mine” was unthinkable. He’d never been close to his father.
Every remnant only deepened the divide between proud memory and harsh reality.
“It’s all yours, Jin Muhae. Here, the city—everything.”
Whether he knew or not, Joo-o insisted even Goryeo City belonged to Muhae.
Perhaps because Joo-o’s little ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ world began and ended with Muhae. He firmly believed all things existed for him—pathetic, really.
“Fine. Stop fidgeting with the night-light and follow me.”
Muhae stepped onto the brightly lit stairs. The long flight from the third floor down to the basement felt utterly inconsiderate.
He guessed this place wasn’t meant for everyone’s return, but a cavern for his father’s youthful friends alone.
Muhae pictured them: robust, ambitious young men, climbing these steps without breaking a sweat.
Despite the wall-spanning screen, Cloud appeared again as a waveform graph.
Though they’d spoken only a few times, the modulated voice always sounded different. Muhae felt he was talking to a machine more than a person.
―I have a small favor to ask.
“Go ahead.”
―Something my subordinate dropped beneath Jaegang District. I’d like you to retrieve it.
‘Beneath’… If they mean below the city, they’re talking underground.
“That route seems unfamiliar to me.”
―Indeed. It’s easy to overlook, but beneath every city lies passages people once used.
Cloud’s serious reply made Muhae raise an eyebrow. City’s lower passages… not a riddle, but straightforward enough.
Goryeo City had a network of sewers. Cloud must be referring to that.
Muhae wondered how to slip in and drop an item, but he didn’t ask.
Though maintenance had long been poor, the device that fell from the dome must have wreaked havoc below.
Cloud called it a small favor, but it already sounded complicated. Muhae sighed softly as he stared at the pulsing graph.
―There are surveillance devices inside, but I’ve provided equipment to bypass them temporarily.
That was some relief—yet entering remained problematic.
In CCTV-lined Jaegang District, there was no sneaking through the sewer entrance on foot.
He’d need to find an access pipe large enough to connect to the main channel yet less monitored.
Muhae frowned, glancing toward the surface.
―The forecast says clear skies for the next few days?
‘Storm-drain tunnel.’
With that hint, Muhae understood Cloud instantly. There’d be a large drainage pipe near the park where someone could walk inside.
After settling in, Muhae had surveyed the terrain thoroughly. Near the park’s man-made pond, there’d be a sizeable drainage conduit—not intended for foot traffic but built to handle heavy water flow.
In the Comfort Zone, even a drop of rain or humidity was controlled. No flood-level rain was expected, so hiding there posed no real danger.
Cloud sent a rough CCTV layout of the area. Tracking blind spots nearly drove Muhae mad.
Still, the hideout’s setup proved invaluable. He scrutinized the giant monitor, carving out an efficient route.
On a predawn with “clear” forecast, they moved in the darkness. No one else wandered the park at that hour.
“This is fun.”
Joo-o laughed without restraint. Since donning the orange jumpsuit, he’d been gleeful.
Muhae, disguised as a maintenance worker in matching gear, had watched him for a while before departure.
“Enough chatter. Just follow right behind me.”
He’d warned him, but Joo-o already knew how to silence his presence like a ghost.
Recalling the route perfectly, he moved without a single misstep.
Finally, at the entrance, Muhae applied the pre-sent key code to the lock.
With a clang, the circular grate of the storm-drain tunnel slid open.
“Here.”
“Got it.”
Muhae handed Joo-o a small metal device and pressed the other against his own cheek.
Beep. The square gadget snapped open with a whirr, sealing over his lower face.
It was the gas mask issued during Company missions. Rated for only a handful of uses, Muhae had stretched its life with tricks, adding it to his gear bag.
Fixing his flashlight to his shoulder, Muhae stepped into the tunnel.
The Comfort Zone’s dome system occasionally forecast rain to water city plants and control humidity.
But torrential downpours served more to cleanse than nourish.
All manner of waste mixed and flowed to the treatment plant beyond—precisely the passage they needed.
“It’s so damp and dark.”
Joo-o’s muffled voice rumbled through the mask. Muhae nodded and quickened his pace.
Unused to flooding, the drain was narrower and smaller than he’d imagined. Though its diameter surpassed his height, moving freely was tough.
Perhaps because even outside the dome, water rarely touched people. Sloshing through with every step felt unpleasant.
Still, he was relieved it lay beneath a formal residential area—no gross surprises here.
He never wanted to enter the slum tunnels off Seokdal; just looking at those was enough to make him sick.