“Guru-yang, you know that there used to be a ‘Tower,’ right?”
Guru nodded.
The Cataclysm.
A time when monsters and dungeons never seen before emerged, alongside individuals with special powers.
The Tower had risen exactly two years after the chaos had yet to subside.
It could be found in every country and could be entered from anywhere.
People called it the ‘Tower.’
Without even giving humanity a chance to fully understand what it was, the Tower began a countdown to the end of civilization.
At that time, Awakeners and dungeons hadn’t yet stabilized, making it an era of extreme turmoil.
However, thanks to the countless sacrifices of the first-generation Awakeners, the Tower was conquered within three years. Now, the terrifying existence of the Tower had been reduced to nothing more than a common fairy tale motif.
Yun Seojun, an experienced father who had raised two sons, skillfully comforted Guru as he continued his explanation.
“Guru-yang, Guild Master-nim was actually a hero who fought against terrifying monsters inside the Tower.”
A hero?
Guru sniffled, taking in his words with interest.
“Do you want me to show you?”
As Yun Seojun raised his hand, pitch-black shadows gathered in front of them, swirling before taking distinct forms.
‘Wow...’
Guru’s eyes widened in awe, and Seojun smiled.
His shadow took the shape of a massive tower and human figures, reenacting a puppet show.
The fearsome Tower stood 100 floors high, and Jurim, along with the first-generation hunters, had fought grueling battles, finally reaching the 99th floor.
Before the fallen comrades, Jurim’s shadow puppet shouted:
“Everyone, hold on! We’re almost there—we’re about to conquer the Tower!”
However, the monster guarding the 99th floor was stronger than all the demons of the Tower they had faced so far combined. It was impossible to defeat it with their strength alone.
Yet, they couldn’t retreat. They had to stand for the world.
At that moment, Jurim chose to sacrifice himself. He sealed the ruler of the 99th floor within his own body.
“Leave me behind and go to the 100th floor!”
At Jurim’s words, one of his comrades turned and headed for the final floor.
The moment they stepped onto the 100th floor, the shadow figures dispersed.
“So, the Guild Master’s left hand ended up containing a terrible power. It drains his mana every day, and if he overuses his strength, a massive amount of mana is depleted all at once. That’s why he’s fallen asleep now.”
Finishing the puppet show, Seojun gently wiped Guru’s runny nose with a handkerchief.
“Sniff... If you run out of mana, do you have to sleep?”
“Recovering mana that way is the fastest method.”
As he slept, Jurim looked like he was suffering from terrible nightmares, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.
He seemed to be in immense pain.
“Then, what should we do?”
“He just needs to rest well, so don’t worry. You should sleep too, Guru-yang. This has happened before, and he’s always woken up. Do you want me to read you a bedtime story in your room?”
Guru shook his head.
“I’ll stay here...”
Curling up, Guru lay down beside Jurim, right next to his pillow.
Seojun gave a bittersweet smile, brushing Guru’s hair back before standing up.
“But, Mister Seojun... how many nights does the Guild Master have to sleep before he wakes up?”
Ah... That...
Seojun hesitated, wetting his lips.
The last time Jurim had removed his glove was a year ago—to stop a Dungeon Break (a phenomenon where monsters spill out of a dungeon).
He had saved hundreds of thousands of lives but slept for an entire month afterward.
Seojun couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth, so he averted his eyes and stammered:
“Probably just two nights.”
Then, saying that it was nap time and Guru should get some rest, he left the room.
Click.
As the door closed, Guru wiggled closer, burrowing into Jurim’s embrace.
It was the first time he had ever seen an adult look so exhausted and in pain.
His chest ached with worry, and tears and snot streamed down his face uncontrollably.
Wasn’t there something he could do?
[Emergency Quest for a Distressed Child Due to the Absence of the Primary Caregiver!]
[To awaken the mana-depleted primary caregiver, a child's touch is required! Use your unique filial piety skill, "Guru's Hands Are Healing Hands," to care for your guardian.]
[Reward: 500 Filial Piety Points]
That’s right—he had that!
Yun Seojun picked up Guru’s Kid’s Phone from the living room floor and placed it on the table.
The truth about the ruler of the 99th floor was something that only a handful of people within the guild, himself included, were privy to.
But if it was Guru, he deserved to know.
In fact, even the explanation Seojun had given him had been slightly altered—because Jurim rarely spoke about it himself.
‘Has it already been five years?’
Seojun sat on the sofa, gazing at the Han River, lost in thought.
After the Tower had been conquered, the joint memorial for the first-generation heroes had been flooded with people.
Jurim, after paying his respects at the memorial, hadn’t even been able to take a single step past the entrance.
A swarm of reporters had surrounded him, cameras flashing like they were ready to consume him whole.
“As the sole survivor, can you say a few words?”
“What exactly happened inside the Tower?”
Questions rained down in a chaotic flurry, nearly incomprehensible.
“Please say something for the families of the fallen!”
Everyone thrust microphones at him, desperate for a statement from the lone survivor, their cameras flashing incessantly..
Jurim, with eyes as empty as glass marbles, stared at them.
“We... No, I... never reached the 100th floor.”
A murmur spread through the crowd.
“Hunter On Jurim! Do you mean—”
🎵 With a bumpy, cool body~ Wearing red clothes~ With a sweet and sour scent~ It’s a stylish tomato~ 🎵
A cute ringtone broke through his thoughts, making Seojun chuckle softly.
Checking the caller ID, he saw that it was Guru’s Kid’s Phone ringing.
The caller displayed on the screen: Awakener Registration Center.
“The Center?”
Seojun glanced at Jurim’s door before answering the call on his behalf.
“This is Yun Seojun, acting as the guardian for Guru-yang. How may I help you?”
As soon as Jurim opened his eyes, he felt like he was being constricted by something warm and squishy—like a giant slime.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the now-familiar scent of baby formula. As expected, something soft was clinging tightly to his arm.
“......Guru.”
“Yes?”
“Let go for a second. I can’t get up.”
Instead of letting go, Guru only tightened his grip and shook his head.
Jurim narrowed his eyes in mild exasperation. He couldn’t use any strength—Guru was too small and fragile, and he was afraid of accidentally hurting him.
Powerless.
The fact that a four-year-old’s harmless display of force had rendered him completely immobile was oddly surreal.
And that wasn’t all.
The tiny creature clinging to his arm kept sniffling, making him feel like he was being backed into a corner.
“...Were you worried?”
“A lot, a lot...”
His voice wavered as though he was about to burst into tears.
Alarmed, Jurim hurriedly pried Guru off and sat him down in front of him.
Coral-colored eyes stared at him blankly. Sniff. The child inhaled sharply again.
‘What do I do with this?’
He had no experience handling children. No experience comforting them, either.
Jurim dug deep into ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) what little knowledge he had and tried to come up with a solution.
Give him a snack.
Give him food.
Give him a treat.
His options were... pitifully narrow.
He immediately dismissed them all. What am I raising, a pet?
Sighing, he swept his hair back to hide his embarrassment.
“...I’m sorry. I should have explained things to you properly.”
“Hic. Mister Seojun already told me. Hic... He said Guild Master-nim keeps spilling mana everywhere and has to sleep when he uses too much...”
Another sniffle.
“...Did you just say I ‘keep spilling mana everywhere’? Stop crying already.”
“Okay... Sniff.”
Here we go again. Jurim briefly pinched Guru’s tiny nose.
“That’s enough. Your eyes are all swollen.”
When Jurim rubbed his fingers gently under Guru’s eyes, the child buried his face in his hands.
Not knowing what else to do, Jurim hesitated—then pulled Guru into his arms and patted his back.
“Guild Master-nim, I’m sorry. Guru will do better. Please don’t be sick.”
Jurim stopped breathing for a moment.
He didn’t need to explain—this perceptive little child had already figured out why he was like this.
A heavy weight of guilt and sadness settled deep in his chest.

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