The Aftersound Society!
In the Yeoeumhoe office. He pops a chocolate into his mouth while checking his phone. He's watching Kim Yang's vlog from their recent collaboration with the suit shop.
[Boss working and drinking alone]—he'd heard they'd added subtitles, but seeing it like this, her sense is spot on. Not just basic captions, but clever cuts, upbeat BGM, and more. Who knew Kim Yang had a knack for this stuff.
The video's about ten minutes long. It ends with shots of Meracle's revamped interior, showing him in his suit—like a before-and-after reveal.
He's chuckling at the comments gushing over how handsome the boss looks when a vacuum cleaner bumps his calf from the side.
"Move your leg."
"Ah, yep."
Renea, casually vacuuming thanks to the cordless model. She's taking her sweet time with it, like she's looping the same spots over and over.
She stares right back when he gives her a blank look, not budging an inch. Clearly getting comfy with life on the 3rd Floor. The way she never backs down proves it.
Ding!
Right on cue, a message from Raichen in the lobby.
"Ahem! Guess I should get to work then."
"……."
Her glare prickles the back of his neck. Before leaving the office, he glances over his shoulder with one last jab.
"Empty that trash can over there too, yeah?"
"Eeeeek!"
He dodges Renea's screech and heads to Consultation Room 1. The rooms have full-glass walls—no sound gets through, but everything's visible from outside. Kim Yang's already in Room 2 with a female client.
Marketing's working wonders. Customers are definitely up.
It's not just numbers, either. The interior redo boosted acquisition rates way beyond expectations—proof of how much the old setup had been undermining trust.
Inside, a tense-looking man sits waiting. He flashes a business smile to ease the mood.
"Hello. You're Shin Hoyun, right?"
"Y-yes... that's me."
A hint of disappointment in his voice. Familiar pattern. Lately, most guys come for Kim Yang after seeing the vlog, but Raichen's sharp—he sniffs them out and steers them his way naturally.
The client's lobby form pops up on the tablet—nothing fancy, just a cheap Chinese import for docs.
"You're still in college, Mr. Shin, but already checking out a matchmaking agency?"
"Ah... yep."
Yeah, ulterior motives. I know the type. But business is business. Kim Yang's SNS accidentally lured these trap customers. Raichen funnels them to him, and he converts them for real.
"Young as you are, finances might be tight right now, but your rank could still come out high."
"...Really?"
"Yep, not finalized yet, but I'd peg you at C-rank."
"Isn't C-rank average?"
"Exactly. Wanna see?"
He smoothly swipes through prime C-rank prospects—top-shelf looks. Shin Hoyun's eyes go wide at the unexpected hotties. Kids are easy. Pretty = sold. They don't overthink the rank.
"Th-these are all C-rank?"
"Yep. Matchmaking isn't just about 'looks'—it's a full evaluation."
He hears the guy swallow hard.
"Anyway, basic membership's a million won a month for five matches. Unlimited's an add-on, but no pick-your-own—."
* * *
"Ow, my shoulders."
After sorting today's sign-ups, he stretches. Closing time already. Raichen bows after tidying the lobby.
"Boss, I'll head out now."
"Raichen, you free tonight? We should at least throw you a proper welcome party since you're here."
Come to think of it, work's kept them too slammed for one.
"What do you say, team? Everyone good for tonight?"
"Ch-ch yeah."
Kim Yang nods from her laptop. But Raichen shakes his head.
"Thanks, but I have prior plans."
"Tomorrow?"
"Prior plans."
"Day after?"
"Prior plans."
"Say hi to Da Jeong for me then."
"Yes, sir."
Dripping with honey, that romance.
"Tch, split vote means it's off. Next time—."
"This lady votes yes! Sushi sounds divine!"
Renea beams, hand up. He deadpans back.
"Only 'employees' get a vote."
"……."
"Then I'll be off."
As Raichen exits, she pounces, pummeling his back with cute little fists.
"Make this lady full-time! Come to think of it, I never got a welcome party either!"
Who throws alba welcome parties? It feels like a massage, but then it hits him—this is the age where he should be giving them.
"B-boss. C'mere."
"What."
He glides over on his chair. They're side-by-side for consultations—sharing tips and info.
"Th-this guy."
"Hm... Solodel, from 4th Floor Lazesta continent. Mercenary?"
4th Floor mercs are like 3rd Floor hunters—high-risk, high-reward. Tricky to rank for matchmaking.
"Hmmm, thirty-five. Veteran merc at that age. He'll value his life, so base on salary and lowball assets a bit."
"O-okay!"
Kim Yang taps away. Feels good, mentoring her like this—until his eyes snag on something.
"...What's that?"
Religion field.
"Yeoeumhoe? What's that?"
No gods on 4th Floor, so weird faiths pop up. More mindset than worship—like a motto.
"Wh-when I asked... it's, like, a group for the dearly departed."
"Group for the departed?"
Shamanistic vibes? Kinda creepy.
Religion's a big deal—mismatches kill matches.
"Hold off on matching him. I'll call tomorrow and dig deeper."
"G-got it."
As Kim Yang files him away, Renea's ears twitch.
"Someone in the lobby?"
"Customer? We're closed."
He sighs, checks CCTV. In the 2nd Floor lobby—shockingly, Beloah. With Ophelia, her Abyss Research Club cohort.
"Beloah?"
Why's she not in the library? Still hanging around?
"Whatever. Everyone, wrap up and head out."
"Boss! Welcome party! This lady's welcome party!"
"Argh, fine! Dinner tonight. Happy?"
"Yay!"
He calms Renea, suits up, and heads down.
Ophelia whistles as he descends the stairs.
"Whew, what's this place? Total glow-up in days?"
"Spent some cash."
"Boss, you look sharp too. Should've suited up sooner."
Kim Yang's got an eye—everyone says it now.
"Ahem."
He preens happily until Beloah, clutching her books, speaks softly.
"Boss... heard Raichen was here."
"Huh? Oh, he just clocked out."
"Ah..."
She looks disappointed. He adds awkwardly,
"He's dating now. If you're into him—."
"No... not that."
So firm. Then why seek him out?
Ophelia hesitates, sighs, and spills.
"Boss, you know Yeoeumhoe?"
"Yeoeumhoe? Uh... one client's in it. Was gonna look into it."
Their faces darken instantly. Ophelia rubs her temple like it's a migraine.
"Yeoeumhoe. It's a cult our clubmate started."
* * *
4th Floor, Lazesta Continent. Atop a brick altar sits a lone radio. Arachino thwacks the floor endlessly with his staff. A camera streams live beside him.
A middle-aged woman approaches the radio, placing her dead son's bag before it with a sob.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
As Arachino pounds mana into the radio—
Mommm!*crackle*
A young man's voice cuts clearly through the static. The mother freezes, then screams desperately.
"Hngh!? Y-you?! Is that you?! Son! Lomeron! Mom's right here!"
It huuurts! Stop! Pleeeease!
"Lomeron! My baby! Lomeroooon!"
Pleeeease stooop! It huuurts!
"Lomeroooon!"
Radios are one-way. No way Lomeron hears her. But she screams anyway—only way to bear the heart-wrenching pain.
Someone! Save me! Pleeeease! Mooom! Daaad!
"Guhhk! Lomeroooon! Lo-Lomeron!"
She collapses after pounding the floor. Fellow believers gently carry her off.
Arachino turns to the camera, staff still.
"D-did you s-see? Everyone! Our Yeoeumhoe can hear the voices of the dead! And I, a n-necromancer! I-I've discovered their souls aren't just w-wandering!"
The chat scrolls unseen by him, ablaze: scams, frauds. I experienced it. Yeoeumhoe is real, etc.
Streaming across floors—from 3rd Floor Earth, 4th Floor Lazesta, even 6th Floor Cyber City (sans ancient martial realms). Views explode.
Yeoeumhoe's antics are bizarre, irresistible. Hearing the dead. Unlocking afterlife truths. Things anyone ponders, now "real."
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Conviction burns in Arachino's eyes as he slams the staff—diverting his tics under the spotlight. For the world. For the dead. For that mother who fainted hearing her son's agony.
He can't show cracks.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
"We've verified it hundreds of times! Where the dead are trapped, writhing in pain!"
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
This is righteous. Free the dead. No more torment for the departed.
"The 1st Floor! That hell called the Abyss—demons toy with their souls! I, mage Arachino, swear on my mana, life, and name!"
Thus, he declares.
"It's time for interlayer war! We march! Judge those vile demons holding our dead hostage!"
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
"The dead cry for salvation! Our family, friends, lovers weeping in that cold abyss—bring them back!"