Chapter 3: A Minty Fragrance Lingered Where the Vampire Vanished

A minty fragrance lingered in the spot where the vampire had vanished. I pondered what she might have meant by "sparing" me, then let it go. No need to overthink it. Right now, I'm breathing, my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heart pounding away. That's enough.

More importantly, time to celebrate today's achievement.

What was Marian like in the original story? The yacht she targeted for her attack happened to be hosting Elizaveta Grandma's birthday eve party. Marian, who couldn't lay a finger on the lid-blown Grandma, ended up as her personal lighter. That was the first step toward her tragic drama...

"Ah."

She must've done it in the original too, so she did it here as well. A chill races up my spine, spreading through my body. So that's what she meant by skipping the eve party and playing with Marian instead!

How merciful of her. A woman who kills people for not greeting her is letting the birthday party skip slide? Maybe the eve party counted as a mitigating factor.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let out a sigh of relief and climbed down from the hospital bed. Then I addressed the "dog" waiting beside me.

"Let's go, puppy."

"...Brat. I'm not your damn dog."

Villain Leviathan. For some reason, Grandma left her behind. Probably handed her over for me to use.

"Puppy, you confident? One call from me and? Yeah? You're dead."

"...Hah."

Leviathan ruffled my hair roughly. Her vivid blue locks fluttered, revealing a flash of yellow eyes. But why the eyepatch over one?

"Remember this. Treat me like a dog, and I'll kill you."

"Hmm... Don't use such harsh words. You look weak."

"You little—!"

I thrust my phone in front of the charging Leviathan. On the screen: a photo of Elizaveta. The vampire's arch-enemy trembled, speechless.

"Kneel. That's the eye level between you and me."

—Thud.

The villain dropped to her knees.

"Good girl. There there."

"..."

I stroked her chin, and she looked ready to melt. Considering I'll be dealing with Marian ongoing, I shouldn't rack up "sins," but this doesn't count by her standards. Villains have no human rights—common sense. Treated somewhere between stray cat and cockroach, and Marian shares that view.

She hates heroes and villains alike. Except her fellow "club" members—all ability users outside that. Not important, moving on.

"You know how to drive?"

"...No license."

"Idiot, where's your politeness?"

—Grind, crunch.

"...I don't have one."

No choice—we took a taxi to the department store. Birthday gift for Grandma, plus gearing up.

Can't relax just because I'm Marian's arch-enemy hero now. If the collared dog barks and bites at others? And it turns out the "pet" is a vicious beast? Heroes would swarm to "capture" her. Arch-enemy system or not, exceptions exist. It's not invincible. If deemed incompetent, you're fired anytime.

So I needed to boost my combat power. Disrupt Marian's dangerous rants instantly, match her in a fight—only gacha gear could supply that fast. Hope for good stuff.

"Leviathan. Go buy a sketchbook and crayons."

Grandma's gift first. Forgetting would be disastrous.

"...Why?"

"Why's rude. Remember that."

"...Why do I have to buy them?"

"Ah, pens and paper. They exist to convey information."

She's a vampire who's wrestled Samson and yanked scalps in UFC since BC. Even on minimum wage since then, how much has she saved? For a rich grandma, a heartfelt handwritten letter suffices.

"Wait, here's the card."

"...?"

"She must've left it with you?"

Leviathan's face screamed yeah but why you.

"Tsk, can you drink the ocean dry? She'd prefer I spend it over hoarding."

"...I wouldn't know."

Jackpot—unlimited credit card! Time to flex!

Most urgent for me: mana. To max my alpha-and-omega Reversal, need solid mana base. Hence, elixir shop. Boost mana with elixirs—department stores sell 'em, common sense.

"This elixir features millennium fleeceflower and azure oil—"

"No need for explanations."

I raised a hand, silencing the clerk.

"Everyone knows Scholar's elixirs are the best."

S-rank hero Scholar. Confucian blonde blue-eyed elf in gat and hanbok roams global forests. Crafts elixirs from gathered ingredients—unrivaled on Earth.

"Sorry. Price then—"

"No. Don't need that either."

I held up Grandma's black card between index and middle finger.

"Just give me everything."

"E-everything?"

"Yes. All elixirs in the store."

"Tch, showing off."

I ignored Leviathan's mutter. She'd flip if I offered her one.

"Quite a lot. Delivery—?"

"No. Give to the porter."

More loot piled on Leviathan, already loaded from my flex. Meaningless anyway—transports via ability-made water blobs.

Glurp glurp.

As slime-like goo swallowed white boxes, I asked:

"Got any Poison Demon Pellet?"

Original plot recalled. Poison Demon Pellet—purifies all poisons, needed by a villain. Foul-tempered but good at core. Potential martial arts master for me.

"Ah, yes."

"Set that aside."

"Need Water Demon Pellet too?"

"You have it?"

"Uh... sold out. Sorry."

"Fine. Some elixirs improve with waiting. I'll savor the anticipation."

...Elixirs done. Now gear.

I left the elixir shop, weaving past hero spandex shops bursting with colorful tights. Entered a lone suit store.

"Welcome—oh, you're back."

Elizaveta's tailor.

"Item ready?"

"Yes. Finished this morning. Perfect timing."

Clerk handed a box. Inside: black fedora.

"Requested 15 protections and enchantments applied."

Tried it on, checked mirror. Glossy black shoes. Black suit. Black tie. Black fedora. Face stern—aged up nicely. Dangerous vibe; no more "skipping school?" jabs.

...But something's off. 2% short.

"Follow me, Leviathan. Places to hit."

World treats bullet deaths as F-rank. Guns are ornaments—rich heroes use for ceremonies. Means cool guns abound.

"Hmm..."

Glass case crammed with stylish pistols: gold-plated, gem-encrusted. Tough choice. Can't bulk-buy like elixirs—wasteful. Grandma'd scold.

No help for it. Pick the coolest name.

Hand paused on weirder ones—bald wig gun, grad student's tears.

"This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one."

Love the philosophy: style without sacrificing function, betting everything on one bullet.

Left: cigars. Store-bought meh. Custom from artisan later.

Cigars for style—any'll do—

"Customer. Come back as an adult?"

Age-blocked. Clerk polite upfront, Leviathan snickering behind.

"...I am an adult."

"S-sorry...!"

Hero ID shown, apologies flowed. Finally entered after assurances.

Grabbed first cigar in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sight, straight to checkout.

10 seconds: done.

10 seconds: drained.

Glared at still-grinning Leviathan, pulled a cigar. Then—

"Excuse me."

Cigar snatched.

"...What the hell?"

I glared at Leviathan holding it.

"Guts sticking out your—"

"Lady dislikes cigarette smell."

"—were mine. Good job, Leviathan. Reward: the cigars."

Handed over the box. Ignored mocking gaze. Better than upsetting Grandma.

Flex complete. Now to martial arts master. Bought elixirs over gear—need expert to maximize. She's martial peak, handles elixirs fine.

"Really going alone?"

"Yeah."

"Die, I won't care?"

Incheon Slum. Last holdout for villains in this Incheon. Rare lawless zone, villain poison pit. Kid like me vanishes in under an hour.

"Don't worry. I'm not scrub like you."

"...Ungrateful brat."

Leviathan took the taxi back. Vroom—gone. Then I moved.

My master: S-rank villain. Heroes dying to kill her. Leviathan as guard tempting, but keep secret from Grandma's reporter.

—Bang!

Threatened street villains with pistol, reached the shack. Worst hovel—crumbling walls, caved roof. Unlivable.

Matched novel description exactly.

—Creeeak.

Rotten door opened. Pale face appeared.

I knelt respectfully and shouted:

"Cheonma Reincarnation! All Demons Bow!"

Heavenly Demon. My master's true identity.