THE GOLDEN CAGE YOUNG MASTER

I was frozen and couldn't move as the monster came running towards me. I desperately wanted to move, but my legs became numb.

[Heart of Steel Level 2]

"Now I'm able to move, but I think it's too late," I thought, realizing the direness of the situation.

The monster charged towards me like a car without brakes, just a second away from reaching me. Due to my survival instinct, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the imminent danger.

"I'm so stupid, it's not like I'm a cat. Nothing happened," I muttered, berating myself for my irrational thoughts.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the bull right in front of me.

"Ohh, shit!" I panicked.

The monster had stopped abruptly in front of me, resembling a mannequin.

I touched it, wondering if it would move.

[Tower Master giggled.]

"It's a welcome gift," the voice echoed in my mind.

I didn't know what had come over me, but I felt an inexplicable sense of liberation in that moment.

"You've become a mannequin. Come on, bite me. No, you won't bite, huh? Looks like you need to go on a diet, you've become so fat," I taunted the motionless monster, my words laced with sarcasm.

The monster shifted its pupils towards me.

"Okay, I get it. You are offended," I remarked, understanding its reaction.

I immediately moved away from it.

[Tower Level-1]

[Golden Cage Young Master]

"I think it started the Golden Cage Young Master," I surmised.

I heard the voice of a crying boy, and I followed the sound to a door where the cries echoed. Pushing open the door, I found a staircase leading downstairs.

I saw a golden cage surrounded by rose thorns.

I couldn't see if someone was inside. Then, I heard a creepy laugh echoing in the room.

Someone lit up candles, illuminating numerous paintings on the wall. The paintings were so beautiful that I became engrossed in them. Some of the paintings depicted pain, painted with black and blood red colors. One painting caught my eye—a lady in a red gown standing under the moonlit night. But the most disturbing thing was the constant cry that filled the room.

Someone touched my shoulder, but when I turned around, there was no one there. It felt as though someone had just passed by me from behind.

"Who are you? Come out!" I demanded, my voice filled with uncertainty.

A man in his twenties emerged before me, his face concealed by a Joker mask. The mask depicted a sorrowful expression with tears streaming down its face.

The man began to laugh eerily and asked, "Do you want to die, or would you prefer to listen to a story?"

"Can't I choose both?" I responded, trying to maintain a semblance of bravery.

The man chuckled and replied, "You're quite greedy, but I like it."

Suddenly, he produced a knife and hurled it in my direction. Swiftly, I unsheathed my sword and defended myself against the attack.

"Let's play while we talk. First, tell me, why did you choose an extremely difficult level?"

"What? We can choose the level?" I exclaimed, taken aback by his statement.

He launched another attack, but this time it narrowly missed my face as I managed to dodge it.

[Tower Master giggled.]

[Tower Master has high expectations from you.]

"You damn Tower Master! Why don't you kill him instead of me?" I vented my frustration, questioning the tower master's motives.

[Have your own fun. I'm not interested.] The tower master's indifferent response further fueled my annoyance. Why did the monster appear in the first level instead of confronting this joker-faced man?

The Joker began his twisted game and started narrating a story. "Once upon a time, there was a boy. Let's assume that boy was you. He was born with a golden spoon in his mouth and had everything he could ask for. However, as the boy grew older, his parents' expectations increased. They wanted him to follow in their footsteps and become a businessperson. Being the eldest son, his father and mother were incredibly strict with him, dictating his every choice from what he wore to what he ate. They never considered the boy's opinions or desires. Secretly, the boy stole some of his brother's art supplies and began to paint. Painting became his escape, his way of expressing his emotions. When he was sad, he painted. When he was angry, he painted. One day, the boy's parents demanded that he start working, as he was now a grown-up. Summoning his courage, the boy spoke up, saying, 'Mom, Dad, I don't want to take over your business. I want to pursue painting.' Upon hearing this, his parents laughed, dismissing his passion as merely a hobby. They told him that while painting was good as a pastime, he needed to do something practical to earn a living. The boy wasn't satisfied with their response."

The Joker abruptly stopped the story as his gaze fell upon a painting depicting a bloody moon and a lady in a red gown. Sensing an opportunity, I launched an attack, but he swiftly twisted my hand, preventing me from striking him.

"You're in such a hurry," he remarked.

"I'm not. I was doing both," I retorted.

"Oh, so let's continue from where I left off," he continued, amused by my resilience. "The boy wasn't satisfied with his parents' answer."

Using the momentary distraction, I managed to free my hand.

"Yes, exactly. The boy's situation grew worse every day, yet his parents continued to neglect him. He would cry in his closet, where no one could see him. The last painting he created was with his own blood," I continued the story, determined to unravel the Joker's twisted tale.

He paused momentarily and then threw a fork at me. Caught off guard, I instinctively protected myself, but he aimed directly for my vocal cord.

"Do you think this can kill me, Mr. Joker?" I challenged, removing the fork and watching as the wound healed.

"You sure are an interesting person. But if I can't kill you, I'll keep you as a treasure," he declared, his voice filled with a deranged delight.

The painting that had captivated my attention lingered in my mind. It seemed to hold a connection to the Joker.

"I appreciate your paintings. They are magnificent, expressing every emotion vividly. However, there's one painting that I find particularly intriguing," I said, gripping the fork that still carried my blood.

"It seems like you truly treasure your paintings," I added, taking a leap of faith. With a swift motion, I jabbed the fork into the painting, causing it to tear apart as I fell backward.

The Joker began to cry out, "No, no, stop it! It's my dream, my life!"

"So, that boy was you. I understand that what happened to you wasn't good, but you're dead now. You need to move on," I asserted, trying to reason with his fractured psyche.

"No, I will kill everyone who mocked my paintings!" he screamed in defiance.

"Weren't they your mom and dad?" I asked, attempting to penetrate his distorted perception.

"You won't understand what it feels like to sacrifice your dream," he lamented, his voice filled with anguish.

Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed a candle and set fire to the painting. The Joker's sanity crumbled as he alternated between inconsolable crying and maniacal laughter. He lunged at me, but I swiftly drew my sword and struck him down, reducing him to ashes.

As the golden cage vanished, I found myself in a beautiful room adorned with a deluxe bed and luxurious items. [Stage cleared.]

I pondered what had befallen the Joker. Parents should never be so harsh on their children. Why don't they support their dreams? Children are like flowers, and if parents made different choices and provided support, the outcome might not have been so tragic.

[The tower master congratualted you on clearing the first level.]

"let's check the rewards. i am grateful for zion that he shut his mouth the whole time." i teased him.

"stupid master i am angry"

"stop sulking, i was kidding".

I checked rewards but i didn't recieve any.

"this damn system. i cleared the first floor but it didn't give me any rewards. ugh, don't be stingy."

I layed on the bed which was right infront of me.

[boy, it was just a trailer the real shows beguns now.]

"what?" i panicked by hearing this.