Before Ryu could even process his exhaustion, a sharp knock jolted him out of his reverie. Through the open door came his landlord.
Mr. Richard, who had no empathy whatsoever, was broad-shouldered and wore a cheap suit.
Richard sneered and folded his arms. "Well, well," he said. "You remain here. Great. That implies you can at last give me the money you owe."
The weight of Ryu's financial troubles swept over him like an unforgiving tide. With his throat still raw, he struggled to form words while his heart pounded.
"I—I just need more time," he stumbled, his voice revealing desperation.
With a sneer, Richard moved closer, casting his shadow over Ryu.
"What time? Do the months of rent you missed get reimbursed by time? Are hospitals supported by donations?
He lowered his voice to a derisive murmur.
"It makes no difference to me if you clawed your way out of the grave. Either you give me my money, or I start arranging for a different method of payment."
Ryu was choked by an unsaid threat that pervaded the atmosphere.
His father had vanished without a trace. His mother lay between life and death. And now, Richard stood over him, demanding payment he didn't have.
The landlord straightened, adjusting his tie with exaggerated nonchalance. "I'm not a cruel man, Ryu.
"He continued, though his tone was slick with insincerity.
"I'm giving you a choice. Find the money—fast. Or…" He smirked. "You can work it off. I know people who need workers. Hard labour. A debt like yours could take years to clear."
Ryu felt his blood chill. His throat burnt, but he forced himself to speak. "You want me to become a slave?"
Richard shrugged, unbothered. "Call it what you want. You get your mother's treatment; I get my dues. Everyone wins."
Ryu curled his fingers into fists, nails digging into his palm. His mind raced, searching for any way out—any chance to fight back. The storm inside him was building, dark and furious.
No matter what happened next, he would not break.
Would he find help? Or would the world keep taking from him until there was nothing left?
The decision loomed, closing in faster than he could prepare for.
Richard's words carved into him, each syllable weighted with scorn and cruel pragmatism. The world, he realised, wasn't interested in his suffering—only in what it could take.
"You want money, Richard?" Ryu's voice was hoarse, edged with barely contained rage. "Fine. Tell me how."
A smirk curled Richard's lips, the glint in his eyes sharp and calculating.
"You're finally seeing sense.
I have a job for you," he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Hard labour.
The kind that pays debts quickly—if you survive."
The way he said it sent ice sliding down Ryu's spine.
Richard leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"Deep underground, there's a place—old ruins, forgotten by most.
But those who know, well, they call it the Dungeon.
"He paused for dramatic effect. "A labyrinth of tunnels, eerie corridors, and buried histories… You dig. You haul. You survive." He pulled out a contract from his inner coat pocket and flicked it onto the hospital tray beside Ryu. "Sign it, and you start tomorrow."
Ryu's fingers trembled as he skimmed the papers. "Dungeon Miners."
No contact with the outside world. No guarantees of safety.
A pit formed in his stomach.
"You're throwing me underground?" he muttered, barely believing it.
Richard chuckled, adjusting his cuffs.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You work, you pay, you get out—simple. Just make sure you don't get lost down there. Some never find their way back."
Ryu clenched his jaw. His mother. The surgery. He had no choice.
He picked up the pen & signed the contract.
After Some Days
Ryu's body still ached from the strain of recovery as he stepped into the yawning mouth of the dungeon. Cold air stung his skin, heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay. Shadows clung to ancient stone walls, flickering torches casting eerie shapes across the gloom.
He wasn't alone.
Around him trudged men and women with hollow eyes and weary limbs—labourers shackled by debt, survivors discarded by society, their spirits worn thin by hardship. Richard had made sure of that.
A deep, grating creak echoed through the chamber as the iron gates slammed shut behind them, sealing their fate. Ryu inhaled sharply and braced himself. This was where he would labour. Where he would endure. Where he would claw together enough coin to pay for his mother's surgery.
Or die trying.
The work was brutal. He spent each day digging through jagged rock, hauling debris, and carving deeper into the crumbling ruins. His muscles screamed, his grip faltered, and exhaustion gnawed at him like a hungry beast. Down here, strength was everything.
And he had none.
On the seventh day, everything changed.
Without warning, the ceiling gave way. A deafening roar split the air as stone rained down, and chaos erupted in an instant. Dust choked the tunnels, muffling screams and scraping against his throat. Ryu barely had time to react before a slab of rock slammed into his chest, crushing his ribs and setting his body ablaze with pain.
Then—nothing.
The agony vanished. His bones shifted and realigned. The weight lifted.
He gasped.
Ryu staggered to his feet, hands flying to his torso. The wounds were gone—healed completely, as if they had never existed.
Before he could make sense of it, a voice echoed inside his mind—cold, mechanical, and inhuman.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]
[S-CLASS REGENERATION UNLOCKED.]
His heart pounded in his chest. A system? What did that even mean?
More text scrolled across his vision, glowing as though written in invisible code:
HP (HEALTH Points): 0
MP (Mana Points): 0
STR (Strength): 0
AGI (Agility): 0
INT (Intelligence): 15
DEX (Dexterity): 0
DEF (Defence): 0
LUK (Luck): 20
Disbelief flooded him.
He had been granted an S-class ability—yet his stats were pitiful. No enhanced endurance. No supernatural strength. Nothing that made him formidable.
All he had was a body that refused to die.