Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Treasure Hunter (2)
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1.
Even before, for every reset, I'd tried every damn thing under the sun to build up a new seed.
But now that I've possessed this isekai body, my portfolio feels even thicker.
Human trash cleaner, contract killer, Yoobi the Triad executive.
And now, Treasure Hunter to boot.
"Still, Treasure Hunter's an S-rank job, right?"
No need to beat up innocent homeless folks and feel gross about it.
No low-rank fixers banding together for revenge.
Just siphon off the forgotten True Ancestor's slush funds, and done.
It fits the second playthrough's bottom-dealing strategy like a glove.
But if you think this is a free lunch, think again.
Let me recap one more time.
1) This is Necropolis.
2) Nothing comes free in Necropolis.
3) If something looks free, remind yourself of rule 2 immediately.
That's the deal.
.
.
.
.
Five days into the treasure hunt.
This place is an abandoned shrine in C Sector.
A wooden building left to rot like a eyesore at the end of an alley pooled with green smog fog.
The red pillars have peeling paint, and someone's made off with the incense burner.
Once a place to honor noble souls, now it's just a toilet for the homeless.
What the hell am I doing in this sinfully depraved space?
First off, I hoist up Sion.
"Shit! Hurry up and find it already! Poksoon!"
"Don't rush me! Move a bit to the side, human!"
"This way? This side?"
I sidestep carefully, watching out for shit.
Sion, riding piggyback on my shoulders, stretches out her hand, groping under the rafters nonstop.
"No! A little more to the left...!"
"Left? Ah............."
"What's wrong?"
"Shit... stepped in it."
"H-Human! Put this concubine down right now! Filthy human! Get away from me this instant!"
About ten minutes like that.
Stepped in shit and all, but all we dug up was a mummified rat corpse.
"Nothing? Again?"
"Ugh... It, it was definitely here..."
"You got a thick skull and forgot, didn't you?"
"No way!"
I set down the bristling Sion on the ground.
"Ha, fuck."
Yeah, figures.
Two hundred years. Two hundred.
Ten years changes the world.
In two hundred, even Daesang-hyuk might not win the LCK anymore.
I'm not some soft newbie expecting slush funds buried two centuries ago to still be sitting pretty untouched.
Before arriving here, I'd already scoured spots all over C Sector over five days.
But no real haul.
Either someone already swiped it.
Or the site's changed so much it's impossible to search.
Or the surroundings shifted too much to pinpoint exactly.
One of those three.
This shrine's treasure probably got pocketed by some lucky bastard too.
"Why the hell did you take it?!"
Makes my blood boil.
Time to vent some frustration.
"You, come here."
I beckon Sion, who's wisely kept her distance expecting fallout.
"This isn't this concubine's fault!"
"Three seconds. Three, two, one..."
"O-Okay! I'm coming! Coming, say I!"
She scurries over and squeezes her eyes shut.
"Couldn't find it again? We've combed all of C Sector now. Right?"
"So this isn't this concubine's fault..."
"Why's your tongue so long? You saying no punishment?"
She bows her head heavily at my threat and opens her mouth.
"P-Punish... me. Punish this concubine, say I..."
"Hike up your shirt."
"Ughhh... Gently, please, say I..."
Sion carefully lifts her top up to her solar plexus.
Her pale belly and long navel come into view.
Her punishments so far were headlocks, but the same stimulus builds tolerance.
To keep this clingy Sion in check, I needed a fresh kind of corporal punishment.
"Whooooosh...!!!!"
So I let rip a massive raspberry on her pale belly.
"Kyahahaha! Kyahahahaha!!! Stop! Stop it, human!"
Ticklish Sion thrashes and squeals, tears welling up.
About three minutes later.
"Whew, stress relieved."
"Human... how far do you plan to treat this concubine like a fool...?"
"You like it too."
"Not fun at all."
Sion grumbles, hair mussed and a bit worn out.
"Poksoon, if you weren't so cute, you'd be off the team in a heartbeat. Got it?"
"Ugh..."
"Got it? Say 'yes'."
"...Y-Yes, say I."
Enough messing around.
Not like I didn't see it coming.
Even in Euro cafes, phones get swiped off tables in ten seconds flat—Necropolis is no different.
I pull out the carefully folded map.
Dozens of probable slush fund hideouts marked, pieced together from Sion's hazy memories.
Of course, not all had stashes—just the high-probability spots.
"C Sector's a total bust then. Damn it all."
I scrawl big X's over the map.
Another complete whiff today.
Guess tomorrow it's E Sector.
2.
Back home for now.
14 days left in the premium round.
I'm antsy as hell, but condition management is key.
Get sick even one day, and the whole day's wasted.
Boil some water, shower crisp and clean.
"Poksoon, you wash up too. Left hot water for you."
Straight to bed dive.
"Haaah..."
A groan slips out.
Mind's uneasy, chased by impatience—not fun, but lying in bed? Pure bliss.
"Arbel... I stepped in shit today... Nearly broke me, but I powered through."
"......"
"Gonna praise me? Mwah!"
"Uh... ugh..."
While Sion washes, I hug the squeaky Arbel and recount my day.
-Click
Door opens—she's done washing.
Sion slips under the covers like it's routine now.
Toasty warm front and back. Nice.
"Night."
Today’s Arbel cuddle night, so I greet with my back to Sion.
"Master."
Sion pipes up out of nowhere.
"Yeah?"
"......"
"What? You called, speak up."
"......"
"Hungry again?"
"......"
"Grab a blood pack over there. Brush your teeth after and sleep."
Then.
A rustle, and a hand slips under my armpit.
Sion presses right up against me.
I tense a bit.
Her body heat soaks through my back—too damn vivid.
The soft, glutinous press of her skin against my back feels like mochi.
Only barrier's my pajamas.
What's with her suddenly?
As I fluster.
"D-Does this concubine... hold no value?"
A frail whisper in my ear.
Sion, who took seven headlocks but demanded mochi eight times? This weak talk? First time by my count.
"What, why're you all damp?"
I try turning, but she hugs my waist tight, gluing herself to me.
"I know you show this concubine mercy, Master. And that I fail to meet your expectations."
Like she won't let me turn.
Or clinging desperately.
"B-But do you know? This concubine... is very useful."
"What're you on about?"
"You... as a man... know what I mean, don't you?"
Sion stammers on.
"Th-This concubine doesn't think ill of you, Master. I like it. Even feelings of affection... aren't entirely absent."
A clumsy sweet voice tickles my nape.
"...Will you hold this concubine?"
Ah.
Then it clicks—Sion's perspective.
We made a contract.
I hide her and get her to Aden.
She turns Arbel into a familiar.
From my side, fair trade.
Desperate enough.
But from hers?
To her, familiarizing Arbel's just my quirky whim.
A pricey one at 125 million BIOS.
Her rational pick: skip familiarizing, heal Arbel cheap with Universal Currency.
Sell her to Twilight Resource Development or Golden Carp Clan.
Makes sense.
This is Necropolis, after all.
That's why.
"I know you show this concubine mercy, Master."
Past time to recall hers.
Twilight Resource Development lab.
Torture masked as experiments, drug injections, verdict: disposal pending.
Useless to Sion means death.
Treasure hunt's bombed out five days straight.
Her boasted slush funds? Gone.
Moment her worthlessness proved, instinctual terror hit.
That's why this.
Stark naked, pride swallowed.
Anything to avoid discard.
Hmm, tricky.
What to do?
Close eyes, ride the delusion, devour the mochi?
She's braced for it—no grudges later, won't undead Arbel spitefully.
Says she has affections.
Even sans past loops, I'm giving her agape love.
Feed, shelter, bathe, not a hair harmed.
Right?
Sedric here.
Never turned away a girl who came.
"Sniff... sniff..."
Sudden sniffling.
No. No!!!
Fuck, I haven't done shit yet!
"Poksoon."
"Sniff... sniff... I-I'm ready, say I. But... sniff... what do I do now...?"
After serious deliberation, I speak.
"Go to sleep."
"Huh...?"
"Sleep, I said."
Jeez, fuck.
If she weren't so pitiful...
"Put clothes on and sleep, you wench."
3.
Since opening her eyes.
Past memories always came hazy, like static noise.
Crisp recall without fade: cold operating table feel.
Pain of needle piercing veins.
Cold eyes of emotionless researchers beyond glass.
Why those memories torment: all "fake" recollections.
This Sion Tsukimiya ain't the True Ancestor.
Mediocre magic.
Mediocre powers.
Failure that bypasses tenets for familiars at huge cost.
Flawed doll slated for scrap.
"Zhapjo"—not insult, cold truth label.
Knew it.
Nothing new.
Life always brutal.
Even in long sleep post-disposal verdict.
Saved by stranger's hand.
Deceiving as True Ancestor for chance.
Exposed, body exploited helpless.
No fresh despair.
Life always harsh.
First bond after long sleep: that man.
Sedric Montraven was nuts.
Lusting after blood sister.
Whispering daily routines nightly to comatose vegetable, drooling Afuman-go bingsoo whatever.
Forcing weird outfits, bullying, slave-driving, mochi-snatching bastard.
Nowhere normal.
Not just that.
Never touched sister he lusted so openly.
Risking life hiding "fake," excuse of saving her.
Bunny girl getup weirdness, nightly cuddles—yet no virgin demand cliché.
In world where exploitation normal.
Sole predator giving shelter sans demands.
Sion found it bafflingly odd.
And today.
"Poksoon, if you weren't so cute, you'd be off the team in a heartbeat. Got it?"
First time he voiced "discard."
Terror gripped.
Tool's fate sans proof: worthless, scrapped.
First respite since existing hung on his whim alone.
Crystal clear.
And.
"...Will you hold this concubine?"
"Fake's" sole value to offer for that respite.
Silence dragged.
Answer curt.
"Go to sleep."
"Huh...?"
"Sleep, I said."
Pajamas smacked face.
"Put clothes on and sleep, you wench."
Broad back turned, like "no more nonsense, sleep."
Sion stared blankly at that back, long.
"......"
This Sedric...
Was one weird guy.