Jin Siwon hurried into the Management Bureau headquarters.
— We urgently need your strength. Can you come here?
It was a summons from Ko Gang, Director of the Management Bureau.
Knock, knock.
When Jin Siwon gave a token knock and stepped in, the first thing he saw was On Jurim, turning to look back.
“You’re here. We can start now.”
Ko Gang, Director of the Management Bureau.
“Ah, Team Leader Jin Siwon. It’s been a while.”
Behind him, the Minister of the Interior reached out a hand in greeting.
“Hello.”
It had been a while; they hadn’t crossed paths since his naturalization.
Only after he shook hands in turn with the Association President and several cabinet members did Ko Gang call Jin Siwon.
“Over here.”
“Yes, sir.”
At Ko Gang’s call, Jin Siwon moved to the center of the monitoring room.
Beyond the glass, Professor Kim was strapping a polygraph onto someone.
When Jin Siwon inclined his head to see the face of the man wearing the lie detector, Ko Gang spoke in a grave tone.
“Team Leader Jin, I’ll say this up front—today’s matter is top secret.”
Top secret? Jin Siwon let his gaze slip past Ko Gang.
Just then, Professor Kim shifted aside, no longer blocking the man’s face.
At the fully revealed face, a breath escaped Jin Siwon like a groan.
“Hunter On Ijo...?”
The features were gentle, similar to On Jurim’s.
Those cheeks that dimpled when he smiled—unmistakable.
Jurim’s brother, who had climbed the Tower with him.
The hero who vanished with the 100th floor.
On Ijo.
With trembling eyes, he looked to On Jurim as if to confirm whether this was truly On Ijo.
But when On Jurim lowered his gaze and folded his arms, Ko Gang answered in his stead.
“From here, we’d like you to determine that.”
On Ijo tapped his fingers.
With the motion, the sensors of the lie detector on his fingertips went tok-tok against the chair’s armrest.
“A polygraph, huh.”
On Ijo sounded wholly unmoved, but Professor Kim—pricked by guilt—offered a preemptive excuse.
“It’s just for the record. No need to be nervous—answer comfortably.”
“Ahaha, for the record. Mm.”
On Ijo nodded in acceptance. He, too, had been hounded enough by procedures and formalities to know there was no point protesting to Professor Kim.
Uncharacteristically, Professor Kim sat opposite him, clearly tense.
Who on earth could not be self-conscious before the hero, On Ijo?
He glanced once at On Ijo’s bright smile, then began.
“Let me confirm your name first.”
“On Ijo.”
Checking the graph, Professor Kim continued.
“How old are you?”
At that, On Ijo hesitated ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) a moment to count.
“This year... thirty.”
“Are the walls here cement-colored?”
“They are.”
A polygraph judges physiological changes when the subject is nervous or lying.
Therefore a clear baseline had to be set, and several trivial questions followed to establish it.
As he asked about the color of his own glasses, today’s weather, and the like, Professor Kim checked the graph, wiped his sweat, and readjusted his grip on the questionnaire.
Baseline confirmed.
'Is he really On Ijo?'
Professor Kim fixed a sharp gaze on him.
On Ijo’s face showed no tension. If anything, it was Professor Kim who was wound tight.
He moistened his dry lips and asked,
“Is it true that you have no memories from the clear until now?”
“It’s true.”
Since On Ijo’s appearance, every sector had been on high alert.
It had already been six years since he cleared the Tower.
Where on earth had he been, and what had he been doing all that time?
But On Ijo kept silent, saying he had no memories of the interim.
His brother and father had testified that the man before them was On Ijo, but the government needed a definitive answer to whether he was “truly On Ijo.”
And to clarify exactly what had happened in the meantime.
Today’s session was for that.
“How did you know Ms. On Guru is your biological daughter?”
Professor Kim’s fingertips trembled minutely.
If this man truly was On Ijo—
Then, depending on his answers now, the world would flip upside down.
“What was the 100th floor like?”
A deep smile spread across On Ijo’s face.
“It’s all true.”
Seated in the monitoring room, watching On Ijo, Jin Siwon spoke.
It was just as On Ijo had answered that it was true he had no memory.
“He really has no memories, then.”
“Which means we have no idea where he’s been or what he’s done until now.”
“How could that be...”
“It must have something to do with what happened on the 100th floor...”
Whispers rustled.
Letting the murmurs wash past him, Jin Siwon focused on On Ijo.
So did On Jurim, arms folded, standing at his side.
Jin Siwon deliberately avoided meeting anyone else’s eyes. Everyone’s thoughts were so chaotic it made his head ache.
'Right now, the mind-reading skill needs to focus on On Ijo alone.'
'He cleared the 100th floor and couldn’t come back because he had no memories up to now?'
His skill was [Barrett’s Whisper (SSS)].
Unless one could crack an SSS-grade skill, On Ijo’s words would all be the truth.
Jin Siwon pressed at his suddenly exhausted eyes.
“What was the 100th floor like?”
With the question, a sudden hush fell.
At the mention of the 100th floor, everyone held their breath.
“Well now. Shall I start by stating how many times I’ve talked about the 100th floor already?”
On Ijo lifted his shoulders in a bored shrug.
It was the reaction of someone tired of repeating testimony about the 100th floor.
Professor Kim flustered.
“I know it’s a hassle, but please tell us again.”
“Hm...”
On Ijo kept his smile and didn’t answer for a long time.
The monitoring room seemed to freeze over.
“The 100th floor—”
Gulp.
Someone swallowed audibly.
In the silence, On Ijo raised both hands, palms open. Then he shook those empty hands.
“Was ab-so-lutely nothing.”
On Ijo lowered his eyes, lost in thought.
The time he had passed the 99th floor and stepped onto the 100th was vivid in his mind.
The 100th floor was truly a space of nothing.
Hardly even a “space,” really—sheer void.
In the dark where you couldn’t tell up from down, he felt a confusion like his very existence was being erased.
The master of the 100th floor—whom he had secretly feared—was nowhere to be seen.
Only a single window floated up before his eyes.
“You are the existence closest to god among the current civilization’s humanity. Do you agree to clear the Tower by permanently removing all of your skills and abilities?”
At On Ijo’s words, Professor Kim’s eyes shook violently.
So did those of everyone gathered in the monitoring room.
They had heard it several times already, and still it was unbelievable.
The one closest to god among humanity had to give up his power.
With what kind of resolve had that been possible?

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