The world outside Unit 304 was no longer the Seoul I knew. It was a digital slaughterhouse.
As I descended the cramped, concrete stairs of the apartment complex, the air itself seemed to vibrate with a discordant frequency. It was the sound of six million status windows opening simultaneously—a collective gasp of a city realizing it had been turned into a ledger.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and stopped.
A few meters away, a middle-aged man in a wrinkled suit was kneeling on the asphalt. He wasn't injured. He was staring at the space three inches in front of his nose, his eyes darting back and forth as if reading a death warrant. Above his head, a box pulsed with a sickly, bruised purple light.
[Value: $12.00]
[Status: Depreciating Asset]
"Twelve dollars?" the man whispered, his voice cracking. "I have a master's degree. I have twenty years in logistics. I... I have a daughter in middle school."
He looked up at the people passing by, his face a mask of primal terror. He was looking for someone to tell him it was a glitch. But everyone else was trapped in their own numbers. A woman nearby was screaming with joy because her 'Beauty' stat had given her a $250,000 valuation, while her husband stood beside her, silent and ashen, marked with a measly $1,500.
The "Great Valuation" hadn't just assigned numbers; it had stripped away the polite fictions of society. In thirty seconds, the social contract had been shredded and replaced by a price list.
I didn't stop to pity them. Pity was a high-overhead emotion, and I was currently operating at a total deficit.
32 minutes left.
I looked at the subway entrance. A crowd was already surging toward it, driven by the instinct to get home, to hide, to find safety. But I knew better. In exactly four minutes, the System would initiate the 'Public Transit Protocol,' seizing all automated infrastructure as 'Common Assets.' The trains would stop in the tunnels, and the stations would become cages.
I needed a different route.
I activated [Market Intuition].
My vision blurred for a split second, the colors of the street washing out into a monochrome gray. Then, certain objects began to glow with a sharp, neon intensity. These were the "Market Anomalies"—items whose current utility didn't match their System-assigned price.
A discarded bicycle leaning against a lamp-post: [Value: $0 | Predicted Utility: High].
A stray umbrella: [Value: $2 | Predicted Utility: Null].
Then, I saw it. A black sedan idling at the curb, its driver having abandoned it in a fit of panic. The driver was currently on the sidewalk, shaking his passenger by the shoulders.
But it wasn't the car that caught my eye. It was the "Value" tag hovering over the driver's wrist.
[Item: Patek Philippe Nautilus (Counterfeit)]
[Current System Valuation: $85,000 (Authentication Error)]
[True Value: $15]
My lips thinned into a cold smile. The System was a God, but it was a God of Math, not a God of Truth. In the first hour of the Market's opening, the "Authentication Servers" were overloaded. It was scanning items based on visual data and prestige markers, not molecular reality.
The System thought that cheap knock-off was a masterpiece.
I walked straight toward the driver. He was a frantic, soft-looking man in his forties, his 'Value' hovering around $120,000—likely due to his real estate holdings which hadn't been 'liquidated' yet.
"Hey," I said, my voice cutting through his hysterical rambling.
The man turned, his eyes bloodshot. "What? Get away! Can't you see the world is ending? Look at my number! I'm an Asset! I'm important!"
"You're an Asset that's about to be 'Short-Sold,'" I said, stepping into his personal space. I pointed at the sky. "The Collectors are coming for the high-value targets first. You think you're safe because you have a big number? To them, you're just a bigger meal."
The man blanched. "Collectors? What... what are you talking about?"
"Look at your watch," I commanded. "The System has valued it at eighty-five thousand. In three minutes, the 'Luxury Tax' will trigger. If you can't pay the dividend in blood, they'll take the hand with the watch."
It was a lie. The Luxury Tax wouldn't trigger for another forty-eight hours. But he didn't know that. No one knew anything except me.
"No... no, no, no," the man whimpered, staring at his wrist as if it were a ticking bomb. "I... I just bought this to look successful! It's not even real!"
"The System doesn't care about 'real.' It cares about 'Value,'" I said, my voice low and urgent. "Give it to me. I'm a Zero. The Tax can't touch me because I don't exist in the ledger. I'll take the 'Debt' off your hands."
"You... you'd do that?" The man looked at me like I was a saint.
"I'm a charitable man," I lied.
He fumbled with the clasp, his hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped it. He practically shoved the watch into my palm. "Take it! Just take it! Does that mean my value will go down? Am I safe?"
"You're a lot safer than you were ten seconds ago," I said.
I didn't wait for a thank you. I turned and sprinted toward a nearby pawn shop—'Gold & Cash'—situated just behind the subway entrance.
In the old timeline, the owner of this shop, a man named Old Man Choi, became a minor 'Liquidation Agent' because he possessed a hoard of physical gold. Right now, he would be staring at his inventory, watching the numbers flicker.
I burst through the door. The bell chimed—a cheerful, mundane sound that felt absurd in the current apocalypse.
Old Man Choi was behind the counter, clutching a shotgun. He had five status windows open in front of him, tracking the fluctuating prices of his gold bars.
[Gold Bullion (1kg): Current Value: $62,000 | Trend: Volatile]
"We're closed!" Choi barked, leveling the barrels at my chest. "Get out before I devalue your life to zero!"
"I'm not here for your gold, Choi," I said, holding up the counterfeit Patek Philippe. "I'm here to sell. I need liquid cash. Now."
Choi squinted. He looked at the watch, then at the status window that popped up over it.
[Item: Patek Philippe Nautilus]
[System Value: $85,000]
His eyes went wide. His greed was a physical thing, a hunger that outweighed his fear of the end of the world. "Where did a rat like you get a piece like that?"
"Doesn't matter. The System says it's worth eighty-five. I'll give it to you for five. Cash. Physical won."
Choi paused. He was a veteran of the black market. He knew a scam when he saw one. But the System... the System couldn't lie, could it? The gold box over the watch was unmistakable.
"Why five?" he asked, his voice suspicious. "If it's worth eighty-five, why not sell it to the System directly?"
"Because the System takes a 30% transaction fee and puts the rest in 'Escrow' for seven days," I said, using the terminology I knew he'd hear in his own tutorial soon. "I need to move now. Five thousand. Physical. Or I go to the shop three blocks down."
Choi looked at the watch. He looked at the shotgun. Then, he reached under the counter and pulled out a stack of 50,000-won bills.
"Four," he grunted.
"Five," I countered. "And throw in that rusted bike out front."
"Deal."
He counted out the bills with trembling fingers. I grabbed the cash—2.5 million won—and the keys to the bike.
I had just turned a $15 piece of plastic into $2,000 of usable capital.
24 minutes left.
I burst back out onto the street and hopped on the rusted mountain bike. It groaned under my weight, the chain rattling with every rotation, but I pedaled like a madman. I wove through the stalled traffic, jumping curbs and cutting through narrow pedestrian alleys that cars couldn't reach.
Seoul was beginning to burn.
In the distance, a 'D-Rank' Asset had realized he could fire bolts of electricity from his fingers. He was currently using them to blast open an ATM, unaware that the 'Theft Penalty' was already being calculated. Above him, a drone—a 'Market Regulator'—was descending from the clouds.
I didn't look back when the screams started.
I reached Seoul Station at [10:28 AM].
The station was a sea of humanity. Thousands of people were trapped behind the security gates, which had locked down as the System seized the rail network. The 'Common Assets' protocol had begun.
I ditched the bike and shoved my way through the crowd. I wasn't an 'Asset,' so the automated gates didn't even register my presence. I slipped through the 'Maintenance Only' door, my Zero-status acting as a master key.
I ran toward the North Exit, toward the cluster of "Sector 4" shops. This area was a maze of antique dealers, junk shops, and gray-market electronics.
I found the shop: 'The Last Penny.'
It was a hole-in-the-wall place, so packed with clutter that you had to walk sideways to enter. The owner was a skeletal man who was currently sobbing into a bowl of cold noodles. He didn't even look up when I entered.
"We're closed," he choked out. "The world is over. My shop is worth fifty dollars. Fifty dollars! Forty years of collecting, and the sky says I'm worth a pair of shoes!"
I ignored him and went straight to the back, to a bin labeled 'Junk - 50,000 Won ($40).'
I dug through the rusted pliers, broken lightbulbs, and discarded clock gears. My hands were covered in grease and rust.
10:32 AM.
2 minutes until the Price Spike.
My fingers brushed against something cold. Something that felt... heavy. Heavier than it should be.
I pulled it out.
It was a key. About six inches long, made of a dull, pitted iron that looked like it had been sitting at the bottom of the ocean for a century. It was covered in a thick layer of orange rust, and the bow of the key was shaped like a weeping eye.
I looked at it.
[Item: The Rusty Key]
[Current System Valuation: $42.00]
[Description: An old, useless key. Perhaps it opened a cellar once.]
I felt a jolt of electricity run up my spine. This was it.
In the future, this key wouldn't be 'The Rusty Key.' It would be renamed [The Master Key of the First Sovereign]. It was the only item in existence that could unlock the 'Hidden Portfolios' of the Gods. It was the item that allowed the 'Heavens' Gate' guild to steal the divinity of the Constellations.
And right now, the System thought it was a piece of trash worth forty-two bucks.
"I'm buying this," I said, slamming 100,000 won onto the counter. "Keep the change."
The old man looked at the money, then at the key. "That? You want that piece of junk? Take it. Take the whole bin if you want. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters."
I gripped the key tight.
[Transaction Confirmed.]
[Ownership of 'The Rusty Key' has been transferred to Investor 'Zero'.]
I stood in the center of the cramped shop, my heart racing. I checked the time.
[10:33:59].
[10:34:00].
Chime.
A global notification rang out, but this one was different. It was a 'Market Update.'
[MARKET ALERT: A 'Legacy Class' item has been identified in Sector 4.]
[Item: 'The Rusty Key' has been re-evaluated.]
[New Base Value: $125,000,000]
[Trend: EXTREME BULLISH]
The old man's eyes bugged out. He looked at the status window that had just appeared over the key in my hand. His jaw dropped, the noodles falling from his mouth.
"One hundred... twenty-five... million?" he whispered.
He lunged across the counter, his grief instantly replaced by a predatory, desperate greed. "Wait! Give it back! That was a mistake! The price was wrong! I didn't mean to sell it!"
I stepped back, my eyes cold.
"The transaction is finalized, Choi," I said. "In this world, there are no refunds. There's only the quick and the liquidated."
I turned to leave, but as I reached the door, the air in the shop grew heavy. A golden light began to pool on the floor, and a shimmering portal opened.
Three figures stepped out. They were wearing high-end tactical gear, their faces hidden behind sleek, carbon-fiber masks. Over their heads, their values were staggering.
[Asset #KR-0004: Value: $2.1M]
[Asset #KR-0007: Value: $1.8M]
[Asset #KR-0012: Value: $1.9M]
The 'Heavens' Gate' scouts.
They had used a 'Blinker' scroll to warp to the location of the re-evaluated item. They were ten years ahead of schedule, but the System's alert had drawn them like sharks to blood.
The leader, a man with a glowing blue broadsword strapped to his back, looked at the old man, then at me. His gaze settled on the rusted key in my hand.
"Hand it over, kid," the leader said, his voice distorted by his mask. "That item is too high-value for a 'Zero' like you to carry. Consider this a mandatory acquisition for the 'Safety of the State.'"
I looked at the three S-Ranked monsters in front of me. In my current state, any one of them could kill me with a flick of their wrist.
I looked at the key. Then I looked at the leader.
"You want to talk about safety?" I asked, my voice steady. "Let's talk about the 'Market Protection Act' instead."
I gripped the key and activated its hidden function—a function that wouldn't be discovered for another five years.
"I'm not an Asset," I whispered. "And you? You're currently standing on 'Unlisted Property.'"
I didn't fight them. I didn't have to.
I just 'Shorted' the room.