Disaster-Level Player Is Too Good at Broadcasting-Chapter 69: « Dinner Above The City [2] »

[Bonus Chapter for 50 Golden Tickets ~ refer to the Author’s Reward system.]

Leonhardt’s question lingered over the table longer than anyone expected.

"Has anyone here ever seen ruins inside the tower... that felt too quiet?"

For a few seconds no one answered. The players sitting around the table exchanged small glances as if each of them was deciding whether to respond or simply let the moment pass.

Then one of the climbers—a broad-shouldered man wearing a guild jacket draped loosely over his chair—gave a short laugh.

"Quiet ruins?" he said. "You’re talking about a dungeon, not a library."

A few people chuckled softly at that.

But Leonhardt didn’t smile.

He simply lifted his glass and took a small sip before placing it back down.

"In several towers in Europe," he said calmly, "there were ruins where nothing moved. No monsters. No sound. Not even ambient mana fluctuations."

He paused slightly.

"And those places were the most dangerous."

The table grew quiet again, though this time the silence was lighter. Someone cleared their throat and changed the subject before the mood could turn too heavy.

"Anyway," another climber said while reaching for another slice of bossam, "we’ll find out soon enough. Floor 11 is waiting."

A waiter arrived just then with more dishes.

Several wide plates were carefully arranged on the table, the rich scents of warm food immediately spreading through the air.

One dish held a stone bowl filled with delicate white tofu floating in a light broth.

"Chodang sundubu," the waiter explained politely. "The tofu is made in the Gangneung style—very soft, very fresh."

Another dish followed.

A large iron pan filled with dakgalbi, spicy stir-fried chicken mixed with cabbage, sweet potatoes, and thick rice cakes coated in deep red sauce.

Then came something that caught Leonhardt’s attention immediately.

A platter of gejang—raw crab marinated in soy sauce.

The waiter placed it gently in the center of the table.

Leonhardt leaned forward slightly.

"This one I’ve never seen before."

"It’s soy-marinated crab," someone explained. "A lot of foreigners don’t try it."

Leonhardt studied it carefully before picking up a piece with his chopsticks.

"Then tonight I will."

He tasted it cautiously.

For a moment his expression didn’t change.

Then his eyes widened slightly.

"That is... incredible."

Several people laughed.

"Careful," someone said. "Gejang is dangerous. Once you like it you’ll never stop eating it."

Leonhardt chuckled quietly.

"In Europe, awakened diets are extremely strict," he said while reaching for another piece. "Protein intake, mana supplements, measured calories. Everything is optimized for performance."

He gestured lightly toward the dishes covering the table.

"But here you simply eat very well."

"Food helps mana circulation," one player said with a shrug. "Good food helps more."

The atmosphere slowly relaxed again as people continued eating.

But eventually the conversation drifted back toward the reason they were all here.

Floor 11.

Someone leaned back in their chair and folded their arms.

"So," he said, "are we just going to ignore the real reason this expedition exists?"

A few people exchanged looks.

The man continued.

"The Blue Dragon team."

Everyone at the table knew the name.

Blue Dragon was one of the most powerful guilds in Korea, and their elite raid unit had a reputation for clearing some of the most dangerous floors in the tower.

Or at least they had.

Until three weeks ago.

"They were wiped out," the man said quietly.

The words settled heavily over the table.

Only one person had survived.

Their leader.

And even that survival had come at a terrible cost.

"He came back missing half his limbs," another player said grimly. "Barely conscious."

Someone else nodded.

"And he said something attacked them inside the ruins."

"What kind of monster?" the rookie climber asked nervously.

The man shook his head.

"That’s the problem."

"He said he never saw it."

The table grew still.

"He just heard something moving in the dark," the climber continued. "Then people started dying."

Someone muttered quietly.

"That’s comforting."

Leonhardt listened carefully, resting his elbow lightly on the table.

"In Europe," he said slowly, "when an entire elite raid team disappears inside ruins, most organizations would seal the floor immediately."

"Yeah," another climber replied, "but this is the tower."

He gestured vaguely upward.

"Nothing inside that thing stays unexplored forever."

Another player leaned forward.

"And let’s not pretend we don’t know why people are still willing to go."

He tapped the table lightly.

"Relics."

That word alone changed the atmosphere slightly.

Relics were the true treasures hidden inside tower ruins.

Artifacts left behind by civilizations that no longer existed.

Some were weapons.

Some were tools.

And some carried something even stranger.

Abilities.

Powers that were said to originate from the stars themselves.

Fragments of the gods.

That was why ruins were considered both extremely dangerous and extremely valuable.

Someone shrugged.

"You don’t have to enter them," he said. "Clear the main floor mission and you can move on."

"Sure," another replied. "But nobody climbs the tower just to play it safe."

For the first time in a while, a man sitting quietly near the far end of the table finally spoke.

He had barely touched his food.

"Have any of you heard of resurrection artifacts?"

The question cut through the conversation instantly.

Every head turned toward him.

For a moment nobody responded.

Then someone let out an awkward laugh.

"If something like that existed," he said, "the entire world would already know."

A few people nodded in agreement.

But the man who had asked the question didn’t laugh.

His gaze remained steady.

"My younger sister died during an expedition," he said quietly.

The table fell silent.

"It was years ago," he continued, his voice calm but tired. "Back when the first generation of climbers were still figuring out how the tower worked."

No one interrupted him.

"She entered a dungeon alone," he said. "She believed she could handle it."

He looked down at the table for a moment.

"She couldn’t."

His expression didn’t change as he spoke, but there was something heavy in his voice that made the others uncomfortable.

"I’ve spent years studying tower relics," he continued. "And I’ve found records of artifacts capable of bending time, restoring mana, even altering physical laws."

He finally looked up again.

"So I wonder."

His eyes moved slowly across the table.

"If something powerful enough exists..."

"...could it reverse death?"

No one answered.

Not because they wanted to argue.

But because none of them knew what to say.

Finally Jung Hyeonwoo of Iron Aegis spoke.

He had been quietly eating until now.

He set his chopsticks down and looked directly at the man.

"Then I hope you find what you’re looking for."

His tone was calm and sincere.

The man nodded once.

The conversation didn’t return to the same light tone after that.

Even the rookie climber who had been talking constantly earlier had grown quiet.

He looked around the table slowly, clearly processing everything he had just heard.

These people weren’t just climbers.

They were people carrying years of experiences inside the tower.

After a while, the rookie finally spoke again.

"If I clear Floor 11..."

His voice was hesitant at first.

But then he straightened slightly.

"...my name will finally mean something."

Several people looked at him.

"I’ve been climbing for three years," he continued quickly. "But nobody knows who I am."

He gave a small laugh.

"I’m always the extra member in raids. The guy people call when someone else cancels."

His eyes moved between the other players sitting at the table.

"But if I clear a ruin like this... if I survive something that wiped out Blue Dragon’s elite team..."

His voice carried excitement now.

"...people will finally recognize me."

No one mocked him.

But the excitement in his voice felt strangely naive compared to the quiet motivations of the others.

Leonhardt watched him carefully but said nothing.

Eventually the dinner ended.

The players settled the bill and began standing from their chairs.

They moved together toward the restaurant’s rooftop balcony.

The doors opened with a soft sound as they stepped outside.

Cool night air swept across the rooftop.

The city stretched endlessly below them, lights glowing in every direction like stars scattered across the ground.

Far in the distance...

The tower stood silently against the dark sky.

It looked almost unreal from this far away.

One of the players leaned against the railing.

He stared at the distant structure for a long moment before speaking.

"Forty-eight hours."