1.
All right, let's take a rough look at the planet called Punk Road and the setting of this world.
The world I’d been reincarnated into didn’t operate on a national scale. It operated on a literal galactic scale—in other words, a planetary one. I can’t even describe how shocked I was when I first realized that.
Among those planets, Punk Road was one seriously fucked-up place.
Everything was decided by the cartridge you were born with.
Wow, you were born at LV.1?
Congratulations. You'll never escape a life at the bottom.
What kind of bullshit was that?
There was no such thing as "leveling up alone" like some novel protagonist. You lived exactly as you were born, in whatever place matched your station. The high-levels looked down on the low-levels, and the low-levels simply endured.
Even if they died, nobody cared.
Just cogs in the machine of society.
That was the life of the lower class, plain and simple.
Since there was no way to raise your level, life remained static, and you lost any reason to strive for more.
But I, Adrian Servet...
I’d once come terrifyingly close to having my organs ripped out by loan sharks back in Korea.
I wasn't about to stay down.
That simply wasn't an option.
I couldn’t end my second life as a bottom-feeder.
“Phew... hey, kid. What do you want to eat?”
“Do I get a choice?”
“You little brat, so prickly.”
I left the baby wolf over there bristling at me and got ready to cook.
Honestly, the house was cozier than I’d expected.
In this district, a place like this was hard to come by.
Silver Wolf looked surprised too, seeing how neat and tidy the place was.
This was good enough to count as the top one percent of the lower class—the highest of the low.
“Let’s eat!”
We only had canned food, but still.
The joy of a good meal mattered.
I’d created something from nothing using bland canned ingredients, and I watched Silver Wolf’s eyes widen as she took a spoonful of the meat soup.
“...Why is this actually good?”
“Because I made it.”
Ah, seeing someone else admit my cooking was delicious...
It made all the effort I’d put into cooking over the years feel worth it.
When I first fell into Punk Road, I’d worked like mad to adapt. But as I gradually realized how far this world’s common sense diverged from mine, I understood that I had to embrace the logic of Punk Road instead.
How could a world where everything was decided by level be the same as a world where you honestly earned money and graduated from school?
This place was some backwater of Punk Road, the so-called Neon City.
The way a low-level laborer survived here was by going to a place called the Scrap Mountain to dig up junk to sell, or by taking simple requests for a few credits.
I ate the rice soaked in the meat soup like a bowl of gukbap.
Silver Wolf ate the same way I did, finishing her bowl in no time.
“Don’t you have another bowl?”
“...Are you a pig?”
“What kind of thing do you say to a growing kid?”
As my usual after-meal treat, I mixed up some instant coffee I’d picked up and drank it in one gulp.
Silver Wolf was too busy polishing off the extra bowl of meat soup I’d set out for her.
“Haa... that’s enough for today. I should go take care of the rest of the work.”
“Work?”
“Yeah. Someone died, so I’ve got to do the job that goes with that.”
For the record, I had stuffed the dead homeless man into a body bag and brought him back myself.
Even a corpse could be sold for money.
You had to be frugal and salvage whatever you could.
“...I’m coming too.”
“Nope. It’s late, and good children of the new nation should go to bed.”
I shoved Silver Wolf, who was trying to follow me for no apparent reason, back into the room and stepped outside.
I didn’t know what that corpse would be used for, but that was beyond my concern.
He’d tried to take what was mine, so I simply took what was his. That was all.
“Hey, selling a corpse?”
“Mr. Wang?”
“What’s this? You don’t usually kill people.”
“He rushed at me first, trying to kill me.”
“Well, that’s fair! Buy me a meal later.”
I passed by Mr. Wang, who managed the chicken-coop apartment building, and headed to a place set up like a charnel house, where I joined the line.
Here’s another bit of Punk Road common sense for you!
Punk Road was like Cyberpunk 2077—a place ruled by megacorps.
Which meant there were corporations that had become the kings of this little turf.
Of course, there were also those absurd, galaxy-spanning companies that stood even above them, but... we can talk about those later. The guys who ruled Punk Road and the ones who stood at the top of the universe were on completely different levels.
“Hoo, I hope they pay a little extra.”
“...Hey, mister. Who did you bring?”
“Me? A homeless guy who tried to stab me in the gut.”
“Sounds like me. I killed a guy too after dodging a knife to the stomach.”
See?
This was Punk Road 2077.
And as a specialty, Punk Road was famous for hackers. It was already a planet where corporations ruled the roost, and the hackers made lower-class life even more miserable.
Hackers?
Most of them were lunatics who liked messing with other people’s heads or records whenever they got bored.
They called it a prank, but for the poor, such "jokes" could become a serious threat to survival.
“Here you go, 50,000 credit points.”
“Can’t you price it a little higher?”
“Supply’s gone up lately, so there’s nothing we can do.”
With that, I took the credit points and left the charnel house.
Calling a place that bought dead bodies a charnel house was a bit tasteless, but accurate.
50,000 credit points—the price of the life I’d taken.
“...Hah. I want a cigarette.”
Cigarettes were a luxury item too.
They weren’t easy to get.
In the dark of the night, I dragged my tired feet all the way home.
For a moment, I wondered if Silver Wolf had robbed the place and run off, but I didn’t really care.
If she ran, I’d chase her to the ends of hell to catch her.
Where did she think she was going with my stuff?
“...Kuuul.”
“Hm. Sleeping well, I see.”
Contrary to my expectations, Silver Wolf was curled up on the bed, fast asleep.
Maybe she’d washed up properly, because unlike when she’d been wearing those rags, she was tucked under the blanket.
“...That’s my bed.”
If I were being honest, I wanted to say, “Hey, kid, that’s my bed.”
But she was just a child, so I’d let it go this once.
I laid out a blanket on the floor, washed up quickly, and lay down.
For the record, the pipes here were so rotten that rust-colored water poured out of the tap. For the sake of my delicate skin, I’d gone through a lot of trouble to install a water filter.
“Fuck... do I really have to live like this tomorrow too...?”
It was the thing I always said before falling asleep.
I was scraping by, saving every last credit point, but how long would it take to climb higher at this rate?
Could I really escape this bottom rung?
I doubted it. I struggled every day, but nothing changed.
“Korea was better...”
With that thought, I drifted off to sleep.
2.
In a dark space floating in emptiness.
I was reminiscing about my childhood.
The arcade in front of the stationery store that every kid my age had experienced at least once. Sitting in front of a tiny game cabinet, tapping the buttons—clack, clack, clack.
That was the moment I first encountered games.
How much fun it was, putting in a 100-won coin and beating my friends.
I’d always loitered in front of the stationery store, so I’d been scolded by my parents for it too.
What could I do? That was just my nature.
Winning something, or seizing a tiny opening to force through a low-probability outcome.
Even at a young age, I was obsessed with that thrill.
I was a lunatic. If I’d gotten treatment when I was younger, maybe I would’ve improved, but my parents just brushed it off as, “He’s just a weird kid.” Even if I had been treated, maybe nothing would’ve changed.
“Damn it.”
Knowing this was a dream, I got irritated for no reason and slammed my fist into the game machine.
“I want to be the only one leveling up too...”
Ah, Jin-woo.
Please, grant me a blessing too.
Lost in those pointless thoughts, I stood up.
I hadn't even realized until just now that I’d been playing a game with someone.
I’d forgotten there was something beside me.
“Are you leaving?”
A voice that pierced straight through my ears rang out.
I turned my head and looked at “it.”
Strange. The feeling was different.
“What a shame. I thought you’d make it this far.”
“Make what, exactly?”
“Make something of yourself.”
Was it wearing a clown mask? The clown, with its ridiculous appearance, stared at me.
“If you’re just going to spout nonsense, get out of my dream.”
“...Heh. A dream?”
“Yeah. This is one hell of a weird dream. Why the hell is there a clown in my head?”
Maybe if I just smashed my head against a rock, I’d wake up.
There was no dream more absurd than this.
“You’re insane.”
I could see its lips moving beneath the mask.
“Think of your original sin.”
“I’ve never lived a sinful life.”
“Heh, hah! So you won’t give in even once?”
“If you were in my shoes, you’d be pissed too. Imagine some clown showing up in your dream and picking a fight. Wouldn’t that annoy you?”
What the hell did it want?
Why was I having a dream like this? Most dreams were supposed to be the echoes of the subconscious, weren’t they?
“More. Go even madder. Show me your story, and let your madness make even me marvel. Even if the whole world laughs at you, carry out your fate.”
“...What?”
“At the end of the road, I’ll be waiting for you.”
I raised my middle finger at the clown.
“Who asked for your advice? Get lost.”
“Hahahaha—! You’re funny to the very end!”
With those words, its body turned into a pile of cards and collapsed in a rustling heap.
I stared at the pile of cards the clown had left behind, then let out a sigh.
========
▶ Reach the end of the road (!)
- You encounter the ■■■■ of ■■■■.
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