⎯ Kwon Ji-yeon ⎯
Life used to be ordinary. Annoyingly, frustratingly ordinary.
I complained about homework, grumbled when my brother woke me up too early, argued about silly things like what to watch on TV. I used to laugh without thinking, breathe without remembering how. My world was warm. A little loud. And full of love.
At that time ... I believed the world was kind.
I had a loving mother who kissed my forehead every morning, a strict but soft-hearted father who pretended not to smile when I laughed, and an older brother whose warmth was enough to chase away any darkness.
We were happy.
Then everything fell apart — twice.
When I was ten, we were at the airport. I remember holding my mother's hand so tightly she jokingly told me she needed it back to carry snacks for the flight. My father ruffled my hair, promising me the window seat. My brother grinned at me from behind his huge backpack, too full of excitement to stand still. We were going on a family trip — the first one in a long time.
I should have memorized every sound, every smile, every mundane detail.
Because the next time I saw my parents, it wasn't them anymore — just burnt metal and charcoal-black twists of what used to be a plane. Reporters shouting questions. Police cordons. My brother gripping my hand so tight I thought my bones would break. They called us "miracle survivors." I wanted to tear the word out of their mouths.
A miracle would have saved them too.
My brother became everything: mother, father, and the last fragile thread keeping me from collapsing. He was eighteen, barely an adult, but he worked like a man with decades of experience. Jobs during the day, online college courses at night. He cooked, cleaned, handled the bills, and still found time to check on me every single day.
"Ji-yeon-ah, eat with me."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Do you want to watch that show you like later?"
He held our broken pieces together... while I pushed him away.
I wasn't cruel — not intentionally. I was grieving. I didn't know how to be alive in a world without parents, and my brother paid the price for my silence. He never complained. Not even once.
He only looked sad when he thought I wasn't watching.
Two years ago, my brother didn't come home from work.
He always sent a message — even if it was just, "Working late, don't wait up."
But that night, my phone stayed dark.
I called him.
Once. Twice. Ten times.
Nothing.
Worry became fear.
Fear became panic.
When the hospital called, I already knew.
But knowing doesn't soften the blow.
My brother Kwon Ji-hoon...
His face... my brother's kind, gentle face... was so swollen and bruised I could barely recognize him. His lips split, skin lacerated, ribs shattered in ways that spoke not of accident — but cruelty. Something carved into his forearm — a symbol I didn't understand. Police tried to shield me, but I saw. I needed to see.
No accident.
He was tortured.
The world blurred. My legs didn't work. My throat couldn't scream. I stood there like a ghost, staring at the only person who ever fought for me — broken beyond repair.
I didn't go to school after that. Didn't talk. Didn't cry.
I searched — endlessly, hopelessly. I demanded answers, questioned coworkers, forced myself into offices and dark alleys chasing whispers. Every lead dissolved, as if the world had decided my brother's death wasn't worth remembering.
But I remembered.
I remembered everything.
Revenge became the only thing keeping me alive.
Then, one evening, I found a letter on my doorstep.
Plain paper.
No name.
No address.
Just one sentence written in sharp black ink:
"If you want the truth behind your brother's death — climb to the top of the Tower."
On the back, in bold letters:
SANCTUM OF TRIALS
My first thought?
Someone's sick joke.
I laughed then. Honestly, I did.
A tower that grants answers? What nonsense.
But before I could tear the paper apart, the air right in front of me rippled like water. A blue light rushed out, wind screaming in my ears. There was no time to run.
But jokes don't make the air ripple like a disturbed lake. They don't tear open space right in front of you, revealing a swirling vortex of blue light so bright it drowns out your thoughts.
Wind whipped around me — then force stronger than gravity dragged me forward. I clawed at the ground, at the air, at nothing. My scream was swallowed before it could escape.
The last thing I saw was the envelope slipping from my fingers.
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer home.
A blinding white ceiling.
Marble tiles cold beneath my palms.
Voices rising from every direction — confusion, fear, excitement, disbelief.
Thousands of people stood packed around me. Some human, some definitely not. A man with scales on his neck. A girl with feathery wings instead of arms. A dwarf-like being with eyes glowing molten gold. A tall elf whose silver hair flowed like water.
And everywhere — faces full of terror.
Before I could process anything, glowing text appeared in the empty air above us.
Welcome, Participants.
Welcome to the Sanctum of Trials
The words left no echo — they simply were a text of words that appeared.
[The Tower that connects dying worlds.]
Murmurs erupted. Someone near me cried. Someone else fainted.
[100 Tragic Worlds. Save them... or die with them.]
The silence that followed could have cracked stone.
Then—
{Reach the top, and your greatest wish shall be granted.}
My heart stopped.
Not metaphorically — I swear it stopped beating for a second.
A wish.
Anything.
Even something impossible.
Even something like—
"Bring my brother back."
For the first time in months, I felt something other than numb.
Hope.
Sharp. Painful. Terrifying.
I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into skin. If this tower wanted contestants to dance like puppets for its gods, fine. If fate wanted spectacle, I'd give it blood.
I'd climb every floor. Fight every monster. Break every rule.
I would tear the truth out of this tower brick by brick.
And the one who murdered my brother — whether they were human, god, or something else entirely — I would find them.
And I would make them pay.
Another screen appeared in front of me alone like the other participants:
Player Identified: Kwon Ji − Yeon
Analyzing Status...
Class: Unassigned
Level : 1
Condition: FragileCondition : Fragile
That last line felt unnecessary.
Rude, even.
Still, I flinched at "fragile."
Had I really become that weak?
I forced my hands to stop shaking.
A new line appeared.
Primary Desire Detected : Resurrection
My throat tightened.
Even this mysterious system knew my wish.
[To unlock it, you must reach Floor 100.]
Floor 100.
The end.
The top.
The place where even gods had apparently failed.
So be it.
System Registration Complete.
May your struggle entertain the gods.
Entertain?
I ground my teeth.
If gods were watching... they better not blink.
Because I wasn't doing this for them.
I was doing it for him...my brother.
"Hey," someone whispered beside me.
I turned.
A boy roughly my age roughly 18 years old stood there — messy black hair, sharp eyes that looked like they saw too much already. He offered me a faint, humorless smile.
"You look like you're ready to kill someone," he said lightly, but his voice held understanding rather than fear.
"I am," I replied.
He didn't ask why.
He simply nodded.
"You'll need strength for that. And allies." He stretched out a hand. "Name's Han Eun-woo."
I stared at his hand for a long moment.
I wasn't used to people offering anything without wanting something back.
"I don't trust easily," I warned.
"Good," he said. "Trust gets people killed."
His honesty disarmed me more than kindness would have.
Reluctantly, I accepted his handshake.
His grip was steady. Mine wasn't.
Before either of us could speak again, the ground shook — a shift so deep it vibrated through bone. Panic spread like wildfire.
The air rippled again, like the moment before a nightmare becomes real.
Trial Commencement Imminent.
Participants will now be transported to Floor1.
Screams.
Prayers.
A chorus of desperation.
I swallowed hard — mouth dry as sand.
Floor 1.
The first of 100 doomed worlds.
{If you fail to save the world you enter... Your soul will perish.}
Cold crawled up my spine.
No respawns.
No second chances.
Die here... and you die forever.
The light around us brightened until shapes blurred. My heartbeat thundered like it wanted to escape my chest. My breath turned shaky, but I forced air into my lungs anyway.
I couldn't afford fear.
Not now.
Because I refuse to lose the last person I love.
Not again.
Not ever.
The world was about to change again — violently.
I closed my eyes for just a moment... and saw him.
My brother's smile — tired but full of love.
His hand reaching for me.
His voice in my memory:
"Live, Ji-yeon-ah. Please live."
This time... I would.
I would live.
For him.
And when I reached the top—
I'd make sure he did too.
Trial 01: World of Ash & Chains
Transporting in...3
2
1
Blue light swallowed the arena whole.
I stepped forward into hell — willingly.
Because this story stopped belonging to the gods the moment they took my brother.
Now... it's mine.
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