The warehouse shift dragged on like broken glass across Ji-woo's nerves. Every sound made him flinch—forklift engines became monster growls, the screech of metal on metal transformed into dungeon screams. His coworkers noticed his distraction, but they chalked it up to exhaustion. They weren't wrong, just incomplete.
"Kim! Focus!" His supervisor's bark snapped him back to reality. He'd almost dropped a pallet of electronics. "You trying to cost us money?"
"Sorry, sorry." Ji-woo steadied the load, forcing his attention to the mundane task of moving boxes from point A to point B.
But his mind was elsewhere. Hangang Park. 11 PM. Reaper 193.
What kind of person survived four months of weekly dungeons? What had they become? The message had been terse, almost cold, but it had also been a lifeline. Someone who knew the rules, who'd survived long enough to learn the system's secrets.
Ji-woo couldn't afford to ignore that.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Not the system this time—just his calendar reminder. His sister's video call was scheduled for tonight at 8 PM. Soo-jin called every Wednesday without fail, her cheerful voice a brief respite from the grinding reality of his debts.
Except now he had a secret he couldn't share. How do you tell your brilliant younger sister that you're fighting monsters in pocket dimensions to erase your dead father's gambling debts?
The shift ended at 6 PM. Ji-woo grabbed cheap kimbap from a convenience store—not his store, he couldn't face that place yet—and headed home. He had two hours to clean up, talk to Soo-jin, and prepare for whatever awaited him at Hangang Park.
His apartment felt different now. Smaller. More fragile. Like he could see through the thin veneer of normalcy to the dungeon-riddled reality underneath. His Debt Sense pinged constantly in Seoul—thousands of small pulses from people drowning in debt, and larger, stranger pulses from dungeon entrances scattered throughout the city.
How had he never noticed? Had the system always been there, invisible to those not chosen? Or was this something new?
At precisely 8 PM, his laptop chimed with Soo-jin's video call.
"Oppa!" Her face filled the screen, bright and smiling. She was in her dorm room, textbooks stacked behind her. Twenty-two years old and already halfway through her economics degree at Yonsei. Everything their father should have been proud of, if he'd been capable of pride instead of addiction.
"Hey, Soo-jin. How's studying?"
"Brutal. Professor Kim assigned three chapters for next week's exam." She leaned closer to the camera, her smile faltering. "Oppa, you look... different. Did you do something with your hair?"
Ji-woo touched his head self-consciously. He hadn't changed anything, but the level-up had improved his overall health. The dark circles were gone, his skin looked better, even his posture seemed straighter.
"Just been sleeping better lately," he lied smoothly.
"Really? Because you look like you haven't slept in days." Her economics student brain was already analyzing him. "And what happened to your uniform? I can see the corner of it behind you—it looks shredded."
Damn. He'd left the ruined convenience store uniform visible on the floor.
"Work incident. Some drunk customer got aggressive. It's handled."
Soo-jin's expression darkened. "Oppa, if someone hurt you—"
"I'm fine. Really." He forced brightness into his voice. "Tell me about classes. Any interesting gossip?"
She let him change the subject, but her concerned gaze lingered. They talked for thirty minutes about her studies, her friends, the campus coffee shop where she worked part-time for extra spending money. Normal things. Safe things.
"Oppa," she said as the call was winding down, "you'd tell me if something was wrong, right? If you needed help?"
Ji-woo's throat tightened. She had no idea how wrong things had been. How close he'd come to losing everything, to letting the loan sharks drag her into his nightmare.
"Of course," he lied. "Everything's fine."
After the call ended, Ji-woo sat in the dark for several minutes. Everything wasn't fine. But maybe, just maybe, it could become fine. Fifteen million won erased in one dungeon. At that rate, he could clear his debt in... he did the math. Fifty-six dungeons. Fifty-six weeks if he only cleared one per week.
A little over a year.
One year versus the decades it would have taken working two jobs. One year of fighting monsters versus a lifetime of crushing debt.
The choice was obvious.
At 10:30 PM, Ji-woo left his apartment. He'd changed into dark jeans and a black hoodie—better for moving unseen. The rusty knife from the dungeon was tucked into his inventory, ready to be summoned with a thought. That feature alone still amazed him. Video game logic made real.
Hangang Park at night was a different world from its daytime counterpart. The famous park that stretched along the Han River transformed after dark—couples walking hand-in-hand, late-night joggers, and a darker element that lurked in the shadows. Ji-woo had heard stories of gang activity, drug deals, and worse.
Now he wondered how much of that was Debt Reapers meeting in secret.
The Yeouido Bridge loomed ahead, its lights reflecting off the dark water. Ji-woo's Debt Sense pinged strongly from somewhere nearby. Not a dungeon—a person. A Reaper.
"You're early. Good." The voice came from behind him.
Ji-woo spun, his hand instinctively reaching for his inventory. A figure stepped out of the shadows—a woman, mid-thirties, with sharp eyes and athletic build. She wore black tactical pants and a fitted jacket that probably concealed weapons.
"Reaper 193?" Ji-woo asked.
"Call me Yoon. Yoon Mi-kyung." She studied him with the intensity of someone who'd learned to evaluate threats quickly. "You're 2847. Fresh meat. What's your starting debt?"
"Eight hundred forty-seven million won. Down to eight thirty-two now."
Yoon whistled low. "Gambling?"
"My father's."
"Dead or disappeared?"
"Dead."
She nodded like this was routine. Maybe it was. "Father's gambling debts are common. The system likes inherited debt—adds that extra layer of unfairness." Her tone was bitter. "Mine was medical bills. Mother's cancer treatment. She died anyway, and I got stuck with thirty million won I couldn't pay."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm down to four million now. Three more dungeons and I'm free." She gestured for him to follow. "Walk with me. We shouldn't stay in one place too long."
They strolled along the river path, looking like any other late-night park visitors. But Yoon's eyes constantly scanned their surroundings, and Ji-woo noticed she kept one hand near her jacket pocket.
"First rule," Yoon said quietly. "Never talk about the system in public unless you're absolutely sure you're only around other Reapers. Normal people can't see the dungeons, can't see our inventory screens, can't see any of it. To them, we're just crazy people talking to ourselves."
"How do you know I'm really a Reaper? I could be anyone."
Yoon smiled grimly. "Because I can sense your debt. It's a passive skill you'll unlock at level five—Debt Sense improves to show you not just that someone owes money, but roughly how much. Your debt signature is massive. Like a bonfire in the dark."
That explained how she'd found him so easily.
"Second rule," she continued. "The dungeons scale to your level. Right now, you're level two, so you get level one and two dungeons. Easy stuff. Rats, goblins, basic monsters. But as you level up, so do the dungeons. By level ten, you're fighting things that could tear apart a normal human in seconds."
"Then why level up at all?"
"Because the debt reduction increases with dungeon difficulty. Your level one dungeon gave you ten million won, plus a first-clear bonus. A level ten dungeon gives fifty million. Level twenty? One hundred million. The system wants you to progress, to take risks. It rewards aggression."
Ji-woo processed this. Higher risk, higher reward. Classic game design, but with your life as the stakes.
"Third rule, and this is the important one." Yoon stopped walking and turned to face him directly. "Don't trust other Reapers."
"You're a Reaper."
"Exactly. And I'm telling you not to trust me." Her expression was deadly serious. "Some Reapers form guilds, teams, alliances. They clear dungeons together, share loot, watch each other's backs. Sounds great, right? But here's the thing—the system allows PvP."
Ji-woo's blood ran cold. "Player versus player?"
"If two Reapers enter the same dungeon, they can kill each other. The winner gets half the loser's debt reduction as a bonus reward." Yoon's hand drifted to her jacket pocket, and Ji-woo tensed. "So those 'alliances'? They last right up until someone gets desperate. Until the debt gets too heavy and they decide your life is worth fifty million won."
"Then why are you helping me?"
"Because I remember being level two and terrified. Because someone helped me once, and I'm paying it forward." She pulled her hand from her pocket—empty. "And because I'm three dungeons away from freedom. I don't need to kill other Reapers. But you should remember this lesson. When someone's drowning in debt, they'll do anything to survive."
They resumed walking. Ji-woo's mind raced with implications. PvP meant every Reaper was a potential threat. Every dungeon could become a deathmatch.
"How do you avoid other Reapers in dungeons?" he asked.
"You can't entirely. But most Reapers have patterns—they clear dungeons at specific times, target specific locations. Learn the patterns, avoid the crowded dungeons. And if you do run into another Reaper..." Yoon's hand touched her jacket again. "Be ready to fight or run."
"What weapons do you use?"
For answer, Yoon summoned something from her inventory. A sleek combat knife materialized in her hand, its blade black and wickedly sharp. "Dropped from a level fifteen dungeon boss. Damage scales with my strength stat. Cost me two hundred million won worth of debt reduction vouchers from the shop, but it's kept me alive."
"The shop unlocks at five dungeon clears," Ji-woo said.
"And that's when the real game begins. Weapons, armor, skill books, consumables—everything you need to survive the higher levels. But it all costs DRV, and DRV comes from one place: clearing dungeons without spending your debt reduction."
Ji-woo frowned. "Wait. You can choose not to reduce your debt?"
"After your fifth dungeon, yes. The system gives you the option to convert your debt reduction into vouchers for the shop. One million won equals one DRV. So instead of reducing your debt by ten million, you could get ten vouchers to spend." Yoon's knife vanished back into her inventory. "It's a gamble. Spend now to get stronger, or reduce debt and stay weak. Most Reapers try to balance both."
They'd walked almost a full circuit of the park. Other people passed them—couples, joggers, someone walking a dog. Normal life, oblivious to the conversation about death and debt happening in their midst.
"One last thing," Yoon said. "Guilds. There are three major ones in Seoul. Crimson Blades, Silver Dawn, and Iron Chains. They control the best dungeon locations, the rarest drops, and they recruit aggressively. Someone will approach you soon, probably after your fifth dungeon when you start showing up on the regional leaderboards."
"Should I join one?"
"That's your choice. Guilds offer protection, resources, training. But they also take a cut of your debt reduction—usually twenty percent. And if the guild master orders you into a suicide dungeon..." She left the implication hanging.
Ji-woo's phone buzzed. He checked it instinctively.
[NEW DUNGEON AVAILABLE]
[LOCATION: GANGNAM ABANDONED CLINIC - LEVEL 2]
[RECOMMENDED COMPLETION TIME: 48 HOURS]
"You got a notification?" Yoon asked, reading his expression.
"New dungeon. Level two."
"Then you've got two days to prepare. My advice? Don't rush. Use those two days to rest, train your body, study your skills. The system wants you to think you need to clear dungeons immediately, but you don't. As long as you clear one per week, you're fine."
She handed him a slip of paper with a phone number. "That's my real number. If you need advice, call. But remember rule three—don't trust anyone completely. Not even me."
Yoon melted back into the shadows, leaving Ji-woo alone by the river.
He looked at the paper, then at his phone's notification. A level two dungeon. More dangerous than the rats, but with better rewards. And he had forty-eight hours to prepare.
Ji-woo opened his status screen.
[KIM JI-WOO - LEVEL 2 DEBT REAPER]
[NEXT DUNGEON CLEARS UNTIL SHOP UNLOCK: 4]
[CURRENT DEBT: ₩832,000,000]
Four more dungeons until he could access the shop. Four more life-or-death battles. But also four more chances to chip away at the crushing weight of his father's sins.
As he walked home through Seoul's neon-lit streets, Ji-woo made a decision. He wouldn't just survive the system. He'd master it.
The Debt Reaper was learning to hunt.
[END OF CHAPTER 4]