The Dollar Princess Waits on Her Knees
Hmm. I wasn't planning on devouring anything today.
Weeeeeeeng!!!
As the hotel's sirens wailed around him, Dohyun scratched his head. His original plan had been to lie low for at least a month before dealing with everything. Under LA city ordinance, if anything happened to the mayor, a special election had to be held exactly 120 days later. Squeezing everything he'd planned into those 120 days was going to be a tight squeeze.
And yet, the reason he'd pulled the trigger today wasn't because he'd failed to suppress his appetite.
When someone's carrying a skill this tempting, how am I supposed to hold back?
The mayor, as it turned out, had been a Hypnotist — an exceedingly rare breed among mage classes. It was a slightly different animal from a standard psychic mage, and since it was mostly useless, people generally wrote it off as trash-tier... but the mayor had been the exception. He'd possessed one extraordinarily useful unique skill.
—the Mass Charm skill. A skill that could purchase overwhelming public goodwill.
Though it doesn't look like he ever figured out how to use it properly.
The man had only become mayor because he ran as the Labor Party candidate. In California, whoever wore the Labor Party's colors won, no questions asked. And to preempt any misunderstanding: it wasn't that the Labor Party was uniquely rotten. Labor and the Libertine Party were rotten in exactly equal measure.
Anyway, the man's personal popularity had been nothing to write home about. Wide-area hypnosis skills like that were simply hard to leverage. Not for me, though. Combined with everything Dohyun planned to do going forward, it would prove devastatingly useful.
Just then, he sensed someone approaching.
"...Genocider."
"Yo, Buddy. Kept yourself busy?"
It was Roder, the FBI agent! Just as Dohyun had requested (begged?) of the FBI Director, Roder had been assigned as Genocider's dedicated handler, and had chased him all the way here to LA. Which raised the question of why Roder was here now.
"Finished up?"
"...Arrested all the party guests. The victims have all been... handled, too."
If I went around cleaning up every last piece of trash myself, it'd be beneath me.
Dohyun was not a pleasure killer.
...Hard as it was to believe, it was true. In any case, the appetite Dohyun felt toward evil men came from Myeolak — Eradicate Evil. But honestly speaking, even Dohyun himself had, at times, been so consumed by Myeolak that he wondered whether he really wasn't a pleasure killer after all. Which was why, unless circumstances left him no choice, he preferred not to dispose of the small fry personally.
"I was going to call the LAPD, but figured they were in on it too. Good work."
"Shut up. Was it you who killed Mayor Palmer?"
"I just happened to be passing by and reported it? If you want an honest answer, turn off your recorder and I'll give you one."
"Haah..."
Roder glared at Dohyun like he wanted to kill him, then fished out a cigarette and clamped it between his teeth. And then he said something nobody could have predicted.
"...Thanks."
"Huh?"
Roder exploded.
"I don't give a damn if you're Genocider, a vigilante, or the damn devil! What you did today, and what you did in Washington — it was the right thing, alright?! So thank you, for doing what our goddamn FBI couldn't! FUCKING!!"
Dohyun made an awkward face.
The Roder I knew — Devil Chaser Roder — was a cold-blooded bastard with no mercy in him. To think he had this much 'romantic' in him...!
Well, come to think of it, a romantic like that would make sense as a vigilante. No idea what happened to change his path midway.
Roder kept cursing, apparently unable to decide whether the gratitude left him angry or embarrassed.
"Fuck! Fuck!"
"You know, Korean has a lovely word for moments like this. Ssibal."
"I know what a ssibal is, damn it!! Anyway, I'm the one who's going to arrest you, you son of a bitch!!!"
After huffing and puffing for a good while, Roder dropped a warning.
"Watch your back."
"Hmm?"
"What you did today, you might as well have poked the NHD cartel with a stick. They will never, ever let this slide."
NHD (Neo-Healthy Drug) — the new-age stimulant that had replaced narcotics.
"NHD — for pleasure without consequences!"
Arcane business came in many flavors — military, medical, tech, and so on. And among them, the goose that laid the golden eggs was NHD. Just as the ads promised, it sold in staggering volumes as a side-effect-free stimulant.
"Those NHD bastards call themselves a pharmaceutical company, but they're nothing but mafia. Mayor Palmer's HealthTech was a subsidiary of Babel Palms, the most notorious of all the NHD cartels. In other words, you've made an enemy of Babel Palms — one of the top corporations in the AS100."
In the past, America had been represented by the S&P 500, or the Nasdaq 100. Not anymore.
AS100. One hundred corporations of Arcane Science now stood for the United States.
All of them. I'm going to swallow every last one.
Dohyun, of course, had known perfectly well that the LA mayor was tied to Babel Palms. That was exactly why he'd deliberately provoked them. The first step toward seizing control of Arcane business itself.
"The NHD cartel already had it out for you over Senator Parks. Parks was one of the players who got NHD legalized in the first place. And now Mayor Palmer, too..."
"Hmm, how thoughtful of you to worry about me?"
"It's not worry! It's because the one who arrests you has to be me, Roder!"
"You know, Japan — Korea's neighbor across the sea — has a word for this exact attitude. Tsundere..."
"Shut up!!"
"Anyway, mind giving me a ride? Downtown LA's a bit of a hike from here."
"Get out!!"
Roder stormed off fuming, and Dohyun shrugged and hailed a taxi on his phone.
...Should I have just forced my way into Roder's car?
Dohyun looked around, pale-faced.
Where the hell am I?
He had definitely gotten into a taxi. But it turned out to be a robbery! And not the kind where they just took your wallet — these guys had been planning to abduct him somewhere and strip him for organs!
He'd dealt with them in short order, hailed another taxi — and been robbed again!
Fucking America. Fucking California.
He'd finally given up on calling cabs and was rummaging for the keys to the robber's taxi, planning to drive himself. Then—
Screech—
A car pulled to a stop right in front of Dohyun. A supercar. Not a Bentley or a Rolls-Royce, but a hover car — Arcane Science technology rendered into a vehicle that flew through the air.
The driver's window slid down, revealing the face of a young Hispanic woman.
"Wanna hop in, cutie?"
Dohyun whistled. She wasn't the kind of sultry glamor girl whose looks only worked on American eyes — she was genuinely beautiful, beautiful even by his standards. Not that he'd whistled out of admiration for her beauty.
"Why not?"
SALA.
The Demon King of LA had appeared before Dohyun.
Hover cars. Vehicles that hovered just above the ground and flew, straight out of a sci-fi film. Their real advantage wasn't speed so much as freedom — they could cruise through open air, which meant never suffering through gridlock again.
So she's definitely no pushover. For this point in time, she's extraordinarily strong.
That was an enormous assessment by any measure. True to her reputation as the Demon King of LA, Sala was stronger than anyone he'd encountered this cycle. A full Lv. 8, Nova Class. Her Soul Force wasn't particularly potent — but it had been refined through countless battles instead.
With Soul Force, raw power matters, but so does how masterfully you can wield it.
Sala must have taken Dohyun's appraising stare for tension, because she spoke up.
"Relax, will you? A man as handsome as you is a treasure to humanity. I won't kill you easily."
Dohyun smiled.
My appetite isn't stirring much.
She was a terrible villain, no question — he could smell an ocean of blood on her soul. But Myeolak regarded Sala with all the interest of a man gazing at a painting of a cake.
Myeolak salivates hardest for the truly vile. Which means Sala isn't a grotesque villain — she's a villain with convictions of her own.
Just like Genocider himself.
Hmm... this is a bit of a problem.
Handling Sala was, of course, part of Dohyun's plan. Even if she was a righteous villain with principles, nothing about her was beyond killing.
It just wouldn't be any fun.
Work was best enjoyed while doing it, but this promised to be a joyless job.
"You were just thinking about something else, weren't you? Sitting next to a beauty like me, what could you possibly be thinking about?"
"When I get to go home? I'll admit you're gorgeous, but you're not really my type."
"Haha!! You're a funny one! No wonder all of America's been in an uproar over you!"
Sala gave him a long, measured look.
"Want to sleep with me? Not that I'd want you getting the wrong idea — I'm dead serious. I like you. I'll spoil you rotten."
She was telling him to come under her wing. Of course, the invitation to share her bed was probably sincere too. An offer of lover and subordinate in one.
"Sorry, but my tastes run a little... particular. If something isn't my preference, my body simply doesn't respond."
Sala burst out laughing and didn't press further. After that, she drove in silence, focused on the road, until she delivered Dohyun to his destination.
"This is the place, right?"
"First time here for me too, but looks like it."
Immigration services had secured a house for Dohyun in advance. The West Hollywood neighborhood — expensive, safe, and one of the most pleasant places to live in LA.
"Isn't this place a little shabby? You're the hero who saved America, and they can't even manage a mansion in Beverly Hills? Even my lowliest foot soldiers live better than this."
"This is plenty."
Not the absolute richest of neighborhoods, but by Seoul standards, something on the level of semi-Gangnam.
"Care to reconsider what I said earlier?"
"You're more persistent than you look."
"It's a shame. I really do like you, and I have a feeling I'm going to end up killing you after all."
Sala stared straight at Dohyun.
"My creed is that a charming man like you is a treasure to humanity, and treasures must be protected. I'd have doted on you properly."
Dohyun stared right back at her.
No matter how he looked, no appetite stirred.
"Then let me ask you something. Any interest in becoming my dog?"
"...What?"
"You're not my type, sure — but I could probably manage keeping you as a pet."
A frigid silence settled between them. Sala fixed Dohyun with a gaze far colder than before, and Dohyun received it with the same languid indifference as ever.
If she actually became my dog, I could spare her. But I doubt it'll come to that.
The knife-edge atmosphere dissolved almost instantly. Sala laughed it off as if she'd just heard a hilarious joke.
"What a waste. Truly a shame. No telling when I'll have to kill you, but I hope that day comes as late as possible. If you ever change your mind, call me anytime."
The hover car rose into the air with a quiet hum and vanished. Dohyun shrugged and started walking toward the 'house' immigration had prepared for him.
Man, I could go for some soju and jeyuk-bokkeum.
It bordered on brain-rot, but out of nowhere, he was craving Korean food so badly it hurt! Koreatown wasn't far, but it was late evening — no restaurant would still be serving.
Maybe I should head straight to a Korean restaurant first thing tomorrow...
Then he cocked his head. He was standing at the front door, and a familiar smell was drifting out from inside.
...? Is that kimchi-jjigae? No way. Does a Korean live next door?
Dohyun unlocked the door with the key immigration had given him and—
He flinched.
It wasn't coming from next door.
The smell of kimchi-jjigae was coming from inside the house!
...Who?
Someone was inside. For a moment he wondered if it was a hitman laying a trap out of kimchi-jjigae, but he couldn't sense any killing intent. He made his way toward the second floor, where he could feel a human presence — and a scene he never could have imagined unfolded before him.
...A woman in a traditional Korean hanbok, prostrated in a deep formal bow, waiting for Dohyun.
No — she wasn't so much bowing as sprawled flat against the floor, less a formal bow than something closer to the Japanese dogeza.
"...Who are you?"
He walks into his own home, and a complete stranger is prostrate on the floor? Nine regressions behind him, and this was a first — even Dohyun couldn't hide his bewilderment.
"You've arrived, Master."
Korean. Real, native Korean — not the halting Korean of a foreigner, but the kind of pronunciation you'd expect from someone born and raised in Korea itself.
Yet the face that appeared was Anglo-Saxon white. And a stunning beauty at that. Where Sala had been a beauty radiating earthy vitality, the woman before him was an aristocratic Western doll come to life.
"I am Nora Cecil, assigned to serve you from this day forward. I shall devote myself to you as my Master."
The settlement assistant Dohyun had requested from immigration.
The Dollar Princess who had played Wall Street like a fiddle.
Nay — the woman who, after America's fall, would come to reign as Queen over more than half the American continent had appeared.
...In a somewhat peculiar pose.