After finishing my meal, I turned off the TV and washed the dishes. I roughly dried them and checked the time—almost 11 p.m. I hung up the towel when the doorbell rang.
"Who is it?"
Through the intercom, I saw someone I didn't recognize. Naturally, I asked who they were. Instead of answering, something was pushed toward the intercom—a sanitation worker ID.
Grade 7 Sanitation Worker, Lee Hwan-cheol. While I checked the name, the man on the other side spoke.
― "Can we talk for a moment?"
I didn't know his purpose for visiting, but I answered hesitantly.
"This isn't really a good place for that."
― "Ah, fine. I don't have the hobby of sneaking into someone's home at this hour either. Just get dressed and come out."
Things got a little complicated—this was a random Grade 7 sanitation worker showing up unannounced. I let out a small sigh while thinking.
It was a pointless worry. A Grade 7 sanitation worker would be far more skilled than me anyway. I got dressed and stepped outside.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Let's move somewhere else first to talk, okay?"
He said that and started walking ahead, swinging his arms casually, not paying any attention to whether I was following.
"Good thing you're following quietly."
He looked back at me with a smirk and moved his hand slightly.
The streetlights bent like taffy with a creaking sound. That was proof the Grade 7 sanitation worker had no good intentions.
"…What am I supposed to do if I don't follow?"
He snorted lowly at my words.
"Right. From what you're saying, you know your place pretty well. So why did that bastard act so cocky in front of Director Oh-min?"
Ah, now I knew exactly who sent him. It was ridiculous. A full-grown man holding a high position in the military, getting petty enough to send someone?
"He said he wanted to teach you a lesson."
With that, something around us started breaking. Not the streetlights—something else.
"What are you doing?"
"Ah, it's inconvenient if people are watching. That's the problem in Korea. Too many cameras."
He was destroying surveillance cameras. Apparently, it wasn't common for a sanitation worker to beat up another sanitation worker.
"All done. No more eyes watching."
"What should I do now?"
Instead of answering, I felt the weight pressing down on me and collapsed to my knees with a groan.
"Well? What do you think you should do?"
He asked me instead. I quickly thought it through. No need to flare up over a little provocation. The wisdom I had gained through years of social experience whispered that it was best to play along, soothe his mood, and get out of it.
I decided to follow that advice. In life, senior figures enforcing discipline is common—military, workplaces—it happens all the time. Better to endure this quietly.
This sort of thing happens often. I've faced it in the military, on construction sites… practically everywhere I've worked. So…
"Shall I pull a few of your fingernails first? They usually foam at the mouth and scream."
Then, with pain so intense my vision went white, several of my fingernails were pulled out.
Huh. This isn't right. No joint cracking, no helmet-smash; he was going full-on torture. This wasn't something I could just brush off with a laugh and a "that's life" attitude. I couldn't let this slide.
I quickly switched to acting.
"If I… if I write a pledge, will you forgive me? I'll never act cocky again, I'll write anything you want!"
He made a "huh?" sound, then suddenly burst into laughter—"Hahahahaha!"
"You've got no backbone. I've never seen someone switch their attitude so quickly."
"So please… stop, I was wrong. I know my place now… I understand your lesson completely!"
I trembled like I was fighting for my life, face streaked with tears and snot, bowing my head.
"All good, but how am I supposed to get paper here?"
"I have it!"
I quickly pulled a menu from my inventory and handed it to him. He said "huh?" and took it.
"What is… this?"
I stopped acting, wiped my face with my sleeve, raised my bloodied middle finger, and smirked.
"Eat, senior."
A warm meal prepared by a junior. Eat and die while you're at it.
Then, as if it had been an illusion, he disappeared without a trace. The menu dropped to the floor. I forced myself not to read it and returned it to my inventory.
What had just happened? Lee Hwan-cheol looked around. Moments ago, Kim Sang-seon had been right in front of him, but while he stared at the strange menu, he found himself somewhere… different.
"Could this be… a contaminated zone?"
His instincts, shaped by countless experiences, told him so. But something felt off. That alone sharpened his senses.
Endless darkness stretched infinitely.
"What the hell is this!"
And a candlelit, elegant table appeared.
Danger. His experience screamed it. Every hair on his body stood on end. This was like a contaminated zone with rules, his intuition cried.
A type of place no sanitation worker wants to encounter. Even the strongest, most skilled workers could die in a split second and lose everything. Even top-ranking workers would be stressed out here.
'The easiest way…'
Just endure it physically. Among rule-based contaminated zones, this is often possible. Most high-ranking sanitation workers take this approach: break anything that punishes them for breaking the rules by force. If they need to play tag, they beat the "it" until it's gone. If something attacks when the lights go out, they beat it until it disappears.
Could he do it? Goosebumps rose like ice in his clothes.
"…"
The table remained, as if inviting Lee Hwan-cheol to sit. Nothing else existed.
"AAAAAAAAAA!"
He screamed, using his telekinesis to smash the table completely.
A blink of his eyes. The table was back, unbroken. Proof it couldn't be destroyed, and that this place couldn't be escaped with force.
The sound of grinding teeth spread endlessly through the darkness.
"Damn it… if I get out of here, I'll skewer that bastard alive on a pole!"
He didn't intend to sit at that table. He knew what could happen. But then, how could he escape in a place with nothing?
How long could he endure? Could he survive long enough to leave? Hunger and thirst gnawed at him.
"…"
No matter how many times he destroyed the table, it blinked once and returned, as if nothing had happened.
"Damn it. Fine!"
Eventually, he had no choice. Or maybe this wasn't even a choice. Forced to sit, he could finally see the menu.
Five courses, created from his selections.
"What is this supposed to do? Just order and eat?"
He laughed dryly at the absurdity of it. Nothing special, right?
Looking at the menu, his stomach rumbled. Just eating and leaving? Everything looked delicious.
"That can't be right."
Just eating and leaving? Impossible. Even starving, his instincts warned him something was off. This choice felt tied to his life.
He stared at the menu, carefully choosing with the most cautious expression.
"All chosen! Is that it?!"
He shouted into the air. Looking down, the food was prepared.
Glass carpaccio, perhaps. A pre-meal cocktail made from hydrochloric acid and gasoline accompanied it.
Crunching in his mouth, the glass shattered.
The texture was incredible, the taste intense, briny, and juicy. So much juice that even after filling his mouth, red liquid spilled onto the table. He savored the taste fully before swallowing.
Then he drank the cocktail to cleanse his palate—sharp and potent. A strong pre-meal drink.
"Ugh… cough…!"
He coughed, spitting out the red juice, but didn't stop eating.
He had to finish to leave, and he was already starving. It didn't even feel like hours had passed, yet his hunger was extreme.
Odd, but these contaminated zones were always full of strangeness. He continued, coughing, spitting, and eating.
Was he drunk? His mind grew hazy. Despite drinking, his body felt cold.
He kept eating the food in front of him until… he couldn't hold it any longer and vomited everything.
"The… juice… isn't it too much?"
A pool of red liquid formed on the floor, glass fragments sparkling within it. The pungent gasoline smell lingered.
His pale hands shook. His stomach burned. Through his mouth, an unbelievable amount of juice poured out.
Suddenly, drowsiness hit, and his fingers barely moved.
Next course. He had to eat it to leave.
"…"
Only now did Lee Hwan-cheol realize he was in serious trouble. Perhaps dying.
Yes. It had gone wrong from the start. He shouldn't have messed with that apprentice sanitation worker.
That's where it all went wrong. The apprentice had handed him the menu, leading him here. He needed to see what happened here and report it after escaping.
That crazy apprentice had caused a phenomenon similar to a contaminated zone.
"I… need to… report…"
Now completely pale, Lee Hwan-cheol no longer vomited. He just… endured.
Eating the inedible, swallowing the impossible, caught in the consequences, unable to move.