Jeon Eunbyeol (1)
Dumbbell Tower. As the name suggests, it's a tower-shaped structure. You might think it's like those towers from typical webtoons, but no—it's a kind of black market. Though calling it a black market is a bit of a stretch; it's so openly operated that even civilians can access it easily. After all, it's tucked away in the back alleys of the world-renowned national treasure, Prunel Academy.
'It's pretty big.'
▶Negative. Not just pretty big. They built an entire tower underground—how could it be small?
As Kay said, the sheer scale meant even the government or association couldn't meddle much. The goods traded here accounted for over 10% of the national economy, wielding massive influence. They did minimal inspections and crackdowns, but if this place ever rebelled, it'd be a nightmare for them.
'So why the sudden ramble about this crap I couldn't care less about...'
Our last comrade runs a shop here. Of course, she's no executive—just a lowly shopkeeper. Still, the mad image flashing in my mind sent chills down my spine.
'They should all be here by now.'
Neon signs flickered through the dead of night, dazzling the eyes like a maze. Weaving through the labyrinthine alleys, a massive iron gate screamed "entrance" appeared.
'Bingo.'
It matched my memory perfectly—I'd come to the right place.
"Hmm? Hey, kid!"
Just as I moved to enter, one of two presumed guards—a burly bald guy—blocked my path. His shiny dome gleamed flawlessly.
"Hey, little customer. Heard some rumors, huh? This ain't a place for nerds like you..."
"Fuck off."
"...What?"
"I said fuck off. Won't say it again."
The other guy, arms crossed, scowled at my retort. He pulled a jackknife from his pocket, advancing threateningly.
"You little shit, do you know who we are?!"
Behemoth's Pupil (Lv.1)
Purple waves rippled from my eyes. The intangible killing intent sublimated into a skill, manifesting its signature hue. The alley filled with it—rats and bugs scurried in panic.
Looking up, both guys were pale, trembling faintly.
'Pretty useful.'
It extracted killing intent instantly without murderous intent. Decent cast speed and mana efficiency too. A bit more polish, and it'd have versatile uses—like focusing on one target to shake them up inside, or morphing the intent into actual damage.
'Anyway, time to head in.'
Stepping past them to the gate.
"What the—it's locked. Where's the key?"
"Uh, it's late, so we're not taking more customers today. C-come back at 10 tomorrow..."
"Wanna die? Call the manager. Now."
"S-sorry! They're off duty—would take at least an hour to..."
"Then I'm opening it."
"...Huh?"
Pivoting on my left foot half a turn, blue mana swirled around my leg, delivering an iron club-like strike.
Boom!
The explosive blast echoed. Both doors shattered, rolling across the floor.
"Wha—enchanted ENCIUM alloy doors, broken with a kick?!"
"M-monster..."
I tossed a wad of bills at the burly one.
"Use that for repairs."
"......"
Cracking my neck, I strode inside.
* * *
Talent Selection.
Start Kick (Trait), Intuition (Trait)
Outstanding Footwork proficiency increased by 10%.
Acquired the same talent.
Intuition proficiency increased by 100%.
Intuition upgraded to (Lv.2).
'Not bad.'
Luckily, two compatible with what I had. Trash talents from black market guards, of course.
Pressing on in mask and hat, gazes bored into me from all sides. Savage, desire-fueled emotions stabbed like needles.
No matter the scale, a black market's a black market. Folks from the gutters weren't normal.
Thud.
Sure enough, one opportunist "accidentally" bumped my shoulder.
"S-sorry."
He bowed like it was a mistake, but his hand flashed—snatching a fistful of bills in an instant. Slick enough to fool the inexperienced. Probably a known name around here.
As I moved past, I grabbed his wrist.
"Hey, kid. I apologized—"
"-Didn't they teach you shady shit costs a hand?"
Snap. Bones cracked, blue bruises spreading up his arm.
"Gaaah!"
A chin hook dropped him screaming. Rifling his pockets, I took the stolen cash plus a few wallets.
"This is compensation. Don't feel bad."
Leaving him out cold, I continued. Onlookers' stares shifted to shock and fear. The sly ones slunk off for easier prey. Dragging sounds from behind—the pickpocket being hauled away.
'One organ sold cheap.'
Shrugging it off, I headed to my destination.
* * *
Weaving deep into a secluded corner, a bizarre shop caught my eye. Shelves lined with suspiciously dubious potions.
'Right place.'
As I approached, a man's bellow erupted from inside. Fury palpable.
"So—you sell me this, I drink it, and I end up like this! How're you taking responsibility?!"
The thug-like guy roared.
"Can't you see it's turned me green?! Am I an orc now?! Fix it, you damn woman!"
The presumed owner fidgeted her fingers under her hood. A meek voice leaked out.
"W-well, that's troubling... B-but no matter how I look, it seems like your fault...?"
"What?"
She pulled a paper from her sleeve.
"S-see here... It clearly says to use as directed... Hehe. And you have to drink the antidote too..."
"You bitch! Think I don't know that?! You said you'd give the antidote later since I didn't have it then—and never did!"
"Uh... D-did I? Don't remember... Hehe..."
Grinning creepily, she stared, then turned away snickering.
"What's so funny?!"
"S-sorry. T-truth is... I kinda expected this..."
"Expected what?!"
"Y-you ending up like this. Hehe... O-obviously, an ugly pig-orc like you couldn't grasp my refined potions. I-it was inevitable. Y-yeah... Hehe."
His face flushed crimson at the condescension. Roaring, he raised a meaty fist.
"You fucking cunt!"
"Eek!"
I kicked the door open and strode in.
"Wh-who the hell are you?!"
"None of your business."
A kick to the throat. He spewed tears and snot, collapsing pathetically unconscious.
"Whoa, whoa. Th-that was cool. Thanks for the help. S-such a strong sense of justice? Can't stand seeing a girl hurt, huh?"
"Opposite. Total opposite."
"Huh?"
She tilted her head, puzzled.
'Putting on airs...'
Knowing her true nature, I could only scoff.
"If I'd left him, you'd have melted him alive. Killing's fine, but it'd kill your business for the day. Hate wasting time coming back."
"S-so fierce... H-how could a super-genius, sickly-beauty girl like me do something so cruel?"
"......"
She spouted cringeworthy lines casually, fake-wiping tears with both hands.
'Same shitty concept after all these years.'
▶...It's not a concept—she's always like that.
'That's why it's shittier.'
Her real speech pattern made it insufferable. Sighing, I swept back my bangs.
'Like Ohana and Song Junho—five years?'
Familiar lower face peeked from her robe. Her signature tics confirmed it.
"Nice to meet you. Choi Siwoo."
"S-sudden intro? E-even if I'm a virgin who's never dated... I-I'm not easy... If you're thinking of trying, I'll cut it off before you—"
"Cut the bullshit. I'm a customer. Won't buy if you don't give your real name—scam potions like that guy."
"......"
She looked up, surprised.
"Y-you know me pretty well?"
"Yeah, I looked you up."
"P-perv. No need—I can tell you my bust, waist, hips..."
"Enough. Let's talk business."
She stared curiously, slowly pushing back her hood. Frizzy dyed blue hair, round glasses, youthful face. Delicate features—proper makeup, and she'd draw stares everywhere.
"N-nice to meet you. You probably know, but... Jeon Eunbyeol. The black market's one pitiful flower."
Flashing a V-sign, she grinned darkly and shook my hand.
Jeon Eunbyeol.
The last of our quartet. The mad bitch had arrived.