Welcome to Happy Lostco [9]
"Very good."
When the Hahoe Mask asked whether I would like to meet the Chairman, I answered yes.
Whoever they were, they'd let this whole mess fester until it blew up in our faces. I wouldn't be satisfied until I laid eyes on the human face behind it all.
"This way, please."
Snap.
The moment I answered, the Hahoe Mask snapped their fingers, and an elegant door materialized out of thin air.
"A door to anywhere?"
"Wow, it's been ages since I've heard that name."
Clack.
"Inside."
The Hahoe Mask opened the door, and beyond it waited—how should I put it—not the office of some corporate chairman, but something closer to the cozy home of a kindly Western grandfather.
Step, step.
Creak... creak.
The faint groan of the wooden floorboards underfoot added a homey warmth rather than discomfort.
And there, on the sofa at the center of that room, sat an old man with a soft, gentle face.
"You're the chairman of Lostco, I take it?"
"My, my. You've arrived faster than I expected."
The old man bustled to his feet, scooped up the kettle bubbling over the hearth, and poured tea into teacups that had been laid out in advance. Then he fetched a box of cookies from the cabinet and arranged them neatly on a pretty dish that, sure enough, had also been set out beforehand.
He looked, honestly... exactly like a grandfather preparing snacks for grandchildren who'd shown up earlier than expected.
Something about him isn't what I imagined...
Since Lostco was an anomaly born from the fusion of markets like the goblin bazaar, the Ghost Market, and yokai stalls—places for beings that were not human—I'd assumed its chairman would be something like a goblin or a fox.
If they'd gone Western, it wouldn't have surprised me one bit if Mephistopheles himself came strolling out.
That would have been far more convincing than the warm, kindly grandfather sitting in front of me now.
"Hmm? Ah... I see by your eyes you're disappointed. Not a goblin, not a demon—just a boringly ordinary old man."
"No, it's not exactly disappointment..."
"Hahaha, I know, I know. If I were in your position, I'd feel much the same. But don't be too let down—I may be the chairman in name only, but the shareholders who actually own this place are exactly the sort of beings you were imagining."
"Ah~ so you're publicly traded. That's a given, then."
"Hahaha! A salaried chairman, that's me."
The self-proclaimed salaried chairman's laughter cut off abruptly as he looked at Choi Eun-ha.
The way he gazed at her seemed, somehow, equal parts sorrowful and joyful.
There was, in fact, one question about Choi Eun-ha and this whole incident that had never quite let go of me.
Given the look in his eyes, the Chairman clearly knew about her secret too—so I decided to ask.
"Why has Eun-ha only now been targeted by the Count of Saint Germain?"
There was no way Choi Eun-ha had never once been alone in that supermarket in all her life. So why had the Count of Saint Germain left her untouched until today, only to suddenly set his sights on her now?
"Because she was not the target then, but she is now."
"I'm sorry?"
"...So Paracelsus's dream has come to pass after all. What a pity... I imagine he prayed the day his dream would be realized would never, ever come..."
No, by all means, drop your cryptic line—just answer my actual question specifically first, would you?
"······."
But the Chairman seemed to have no intention of elaborating, and fell silent.
Damn it. It wasn't as though I could pry his mouth open by force, so rather than drag this out, I'd best move on to the main business.
"Whew... So, why exactly did you want to see me?"
The Chairman rose from his seat and bowed his head politely.
"...A sincere apology is all well and good, but it would have been better had we intervened before things escalated to this point."
"That is precisely the case. You may take it as an excuse, but the Count of Saint Germain's cunning was simply too great. Above all, how swiftly he remade the Korean branch manager—cutting off contact and reports to headquarters—that stung the most."
I see. So that nasty-taste-in-the-mouth branch manager was one of Saint Germain's moves?
"Originally, each branch manager's role was to find those who wandered in—guide the innocent to the food court with its convenient exit, and the wicked to the butcher's shop for disposal."
Hm. Innocents get escorted out, fine, but even back then, evildoers got zero mercy, huh?
"Oh, that reminds me—what happened to the people inside Lostco?"
"Once headquarters intervened, every customer still in the store was returned to the supermarket they'd originally come from."
"And—the person who'd been fighting the branch manager right up until the end?"
"Ah, the one wearing the rabbit mask. Fortunately, he survived. But the man in the dog mask died protecting him, and the one in the pig mask lost part of his body. Aside from that, everyone is unharmed."
Yeesh. What a waste.
And here I'd thought we'd gotten through it without casualties...
Well—for now, let me just be grateful that the Paranormal Administration Bureau people and the rest of the group made it out alive.
Right. Enough with the preamble—it was time to hear the most important part: my compensation.
"I gave a great deal of personal thought to what reward would suit you best. If you wished it, I could offer you gold equal to your body weight. But that hardly seems fitting for someone like you, our dear customer..."
No, who died and made you the arbiter of what's fitting?
It fits! It fits like a glove! There is no human alive for whom that reward wouldn't fit!
...Is what I wanted to say.
"Thank you, but I'll pass on the gold. Instead, I'd like my reward to be the thing you, Chairman, believe I need most right now."
What use is money to a dead man?
And as of right now, I was in a precarious situation where I could die at any moment without warning.
There was a mountain of bastards out there aiming for my life—or carrying malice enough to start aiming.
Cosmos. the Gongnosa. Jeong-myung-gyo. Not a single one of them was the least bit gentle.
And thanks to this whole affair, a NEW entry had been added to the list: Count of Saint Germain.
Frankly? I was terrified.
Sorcery genius or mysterious website or whatever else they wanted to call me, at the end of the day I was a man in his early twenties, freshly discharged from the military.
And I'd only gotten into the paranormal business a little over a month ago.
If all those bastards were gunning for me at once, there was no way not to be scared.
Ordinary methods wouldn't be enough to break through this situation and buy me time to grow stronger.
"Heh heh... The thing you need most, right now... How wise of you. You've chosen a condition that is the easiest and yet the hardest. Are you testing my sincerity?"
"Nothing so grand as that... just think of it as the petulance of a young man with flames licking at his heels."
"Hehehe. Very well. Then..."
The Chairman rummaged through the cabinet where he'd stored the cookie tin and drew out a small ring set with a tiny gemstone.
"I believe this is the very thing you need most at this moment."
"The stone's tiny as hell."
"Hahaha, I suppose it is, compared to the stones you usually wear."
Choi Eun-ha spoke with feigned indifference, while the Chairman laughed in mild embarrassment.
But standing before that ring, I saw neither of them.
And no wonder—the presence radiating from the ring the Chairman handed me was utterly overwhelming.
"...What exactly is this ring?"
What kind of object was this, that such a small band gave off power rivaling the Hwajeon Lantern?
"It is Aegis, reforged into the form of a ring."
"...You're very generous, Chairman."
"Hehehe, your delight puts me in good spirits as well. Though I'm afraid it won't perform quite up to your expectations."
Shff.
The Chairman slid the ring toward me.
"You see, having been destroyed once and woven anew, it has lost most of its original functions. However..."
"However?"
"By that same token, its original purpose has grown all the stronger."
"Its original purpose?"
"Malice that comes from without—that is to say, its true function as a talisman against curses and sorcery."
"...Are you telling me I'm currently under some kind of external curse or hex?"
"A very subtle piece of sorcery. It's still in its early stages, and because its effects aren't dramatic enough to show on the surface, it would have been difficult for you to notice. But for a customer in the very season of his growth, it is a rather lethal curse indeed."
It wasn't hard to guess who'd sent it.
The Gongnosa.
There wasn't another soul alive who hated me enough to curse me—and who would do it with such insidious craft.
"If you wear the ring, it will neutralize the curse, of course—and it will also conceal the fact that the curse was ever neutralized, so its caster will never know."
"...It's exactly what I need right now."
Especially the part about keeping it hidden from the Gongnosa. I liked that a lot.
"And it isn't only that curse. As you stand now, you are balanced on a tightrope of an existence, with countless blades forged by fate all pointed your way. This Aegis will bend causality itself to hold those blades at bay—for a little while."
"'A little while' meaning there's a time limit."
"Unfortunately, yes."
No need for regret.
Even that sliver of bought time would be enough for me to do a great deal.
"And one more thing."
This time, the Chairman dug into his breast pocket and handed over a round, gray pebble.
"What's this?"
"The Philosopher's Stone."
"This is!?"
"This is the Philosopher's Stone!?"
At the Chairman's bombshell, Choi Eun-ha in particular jolted in shock.
Naturally—she'd only just been told that her own soul was the Philosopher's Stone. Of course it would rattle her.
But...
"That's the Philosopher's Stone?"
Unlike the Aegis, whose power was unmistakably extraordinary at a glance, the force I felt from the Philosopher's Stone was utterly unremarkable.
"Hahaha. Well, the Philosopher's Stone isn't all that impressive a thing in and of itself, you see."
"...Not impressive in and of itself?"
"It falls short of what young Paracelsus could craft, but I daresay its quality is superior to anything that rascal Saint Germain ever made."
There he went again, being deliberately vague about the one thing that mattered. The man had a truly wicked habit...
"Please don't think too poorly of me. When the time comes to use it, you'll understand naturally."
"...Understood. Well then, we really should be..."
"My, my—I've kept a busy man far too long."
I pocketed the Philosopher's Stone and rose from my seat.
The moment I did, the rocket—the storied heirloom of the Eun-ha's family line that I'd stashed in my pocket—tumbled out awkwardly.
"Huh?"
"······What is this."
Staring at the rocket dangling by its cord from my trouser pocket, swaying near the opening, the Chairman's eyes went wide.
"Might I see that rocket for a moment?"
I handed it over without a fuss.
His expression had turned far too grave for questions, and besides, I'd received far too much from him to hesitate over something like this.
"······."
The Chairman stared at the rocket in silence for a long while.
Then, at last, he lifted his head and looked at me.
"It seems this too has chosen to entrust its will to you."
"Don't tell me..."
"Won't you show me your smartphone?"
A strange pang of déjà vu washed over me as I held out my phone.
Tunk.
<HAPPY LOSTCO>
Oh no. Don't tell me...
"Normally this would be an overreach of my authority, but... I have hereby issued you a membership under VVIP status. In the past hundred years, the only person ever granted a VIP membership was Aleister Crowley. And a VVIP? Not a single soul in the last five hundred years."
"...Hold on. VIP or VVIP aside, can I actually even use this? The currency of Lostco is blood, isn't it?"
Lostco's currency unit, DAM, meant blood in Hebrew.
In other words, the DAM currency that materialized in your wallet when you found an item was nothing less than the blood running through your own veins.
The 4,000 DAM sitting in Choi Eun-ha's wallet when she found her item was there because the average adult woman carries about four liters of blood.
One DAM per milliliter, essentially.
And while I couldn't be certain, factoring in the tip reports and various other circumstances, one DAM was worth roughly ten won or so.
Which meant a single carton of milk cost you several hundred milliliters of blood.
Whatever a properly operating Lostco was selling, anything worth buying would cost more than milk. For a human being who'd die after losing just two liters, a Lostco membership meant absolutely nothing to me.
"Please don't worry on that account. VVIP members receive generous discounts, and once we return to normal operations, you'll be able to pay not only in blood but in a wide variety of things—lifespan, fortune, memories, emotions."
"Honestly, that's the option I like less..."
"Hahahaha! Fair enough, fair enough. But never fear! Naturally, you can pay in money too!"
"Oh!"
"Of course, the exchange rate for cash is just a~ little unfavorable."
"...Meaning it's obscenely expensive."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Old man, laughing it off isn't going to save you. It's too late.
One money-grubbing miser per story is plenty, and his name is Nicolas!
Just then—
Drring.
A text message arrived.
"Another one...?"
I looked back and forth between the message link and Choi Eun-ha, and sighed.
Same story as with the Great Encyclopedia of Anomalies of Solomon.
'The kid next to you has real talent. Ahem. Any interest in training her up a little? Not that I'm forcing anything, of course... Ah, and while we're at it, it might do you good to learn a thing or two yourself...'
...That was the gist of it.
"Why does everyone want so much from me!?"
"Allow me to apologize on Paracelsus's behalf."
"Keep it... Apologies aren't what I want to hear."
"Then what is?"
"Might as well ask you point-blank, while we're here. What are these websites and apps? What exactly do they want from me? No—forget that. What on earth is happening to this world?"
"······."
To every single question I poured out, the Chairman answered with silence.
"You can't answer? Or you won't? Which is it?"
"Both. You have not yet earned the right to hear my answers. As you are now, you would not be able to bear them."
"Not able to bear them?"
Did he mean that merely hearing the answers could bring me harm?
"...Don't say that! Now I just want to know even more!?"
"Special Grade."
"I'm sorry?"
"When you reach Special Grade, you will be permitted to hear a portion of the answers."
"······."
Damn it. One way or another, the reasons I had to reach Special Grade just kept piling up.
"Now then—the matter of the Korean branch's reopening awaits, so let us see you off."
"Right, the store should be back to its regular business hours anyway."
As I said before, the goblin bazaar and the Ghost Market are markets for beings that are not human, and their prime business hours run from midnight until dawn.
Those pitch-black, ominous shadows that had rippled through the food court—if I had to guess, they were something like the lingering resentment of customers who weren't allowed to enter during operating hours.
The same logic made a store dangerous after closing.
Because of the customers who'd finally been able to come in during their active hours, only to fly into a rage at finding the doors shut and no one selling.
"Hahahaha! Exactly right!"
The Chairman smiled brightly, then soon let out a sigh.
"How on earth am I going to appease all of them... Whew. Even a chairman in name only has to step up at times like this. If I get down on my knees, surely that will soothe a little of their fury, won't it?"
"Uh... good luck with that."
"You're too kind."
Snap.
The Chairman snapped his fingers, and just as the Hahoe Mask had done, a glass door appeared before us out of nowhere.
A perfectly ordinary supermarket automatic door.
"Step through, and you'll find yourselves back at your original supermarket."
"Thank you."
"...Thank you."
I bowed my head—and just before stepping through the door, something occurred to me, so I turned back.
"That reminds me—after all that racket we made, I never actually got your name. What is it, Chairman?"
"Nicolas Flamel. Please, just call me Nicolas."
"Ha—!"
No way. The BFF of the Dongle guy shows up here?
No, more importantly...
"You've got the same name as him!"
From now on, the Nicolas on the radio-wave communications side would be Cheapskate Nicolas.
And the Nicolas of Lostco would be Chairman Nicolas the-Gives-Without-Sparing-Anything.