Masked Demon Lord (2)
"Cough! Cough!"
Ever since that big ruckus with Yoo Hwa-yeon yesterday, something had felt off with my body starting the next day. My throat was itchy, and I kept coughing.
"Strategist, you okay?"
"Does it look like I am?"
My voice was shot too. They say even dogs don't catch summer colds, but lately I'd been meeting tons of people, and a few days ago with the Namgung Jinwi incident, I hadn't slept properly. Guess my immune system took a hit.
My nose was running, my head ached, so I bought some Pamprin and popped one. Felt a bit better after that.
"Take it easy, Grand Chef. We'll handle things today."
I slumped in the convenience store chair, head on my arms. It wasn't that I didn't trust Yoo Hwa-yeon, Hwa Hyo-seon, or the bandits. Thanks to Yoo Hwa-yeon training them well, they were getting the hang of it now.
But could they handle the register? And there were orders to place. No matter how good they were, they wouldn't know how to work a modern POS system.
"Nah, I'll do it."
"Rest if you're sick."
"Yeah, it's awkward for us, Strategist."
Yoo Hwa-yeon and Hwa Hyo-seon grabbed both my arms with stern looks. Something soft kept brushing against them. Their grip was insanely strong—I thrashed, but couldn't break free.
"Hey, I'm fine!"
"We're not!"
Being dragged away like that, I figured I should at least place one order. "Fine! Just one order, then! That okay?"
"...What do you think, Yoo Hwa-yeon?"
"Sure, that much is fine."
I shuffled to the POS and opened the order screen. This time, it was KF-94 masks. I needed them myself, and the ones we had were just basic cloth masks with no real protection.
"Cough! Cough!"
I hacked away as I hit the order button.
(1000 units)
Huh? Wait a sec. Did I see that wrong? Looking again, yeah, it was really a thousand. I'd meant to order ten.
"What's wrong, Grand Chef?"
"Ah... I really need to rest."
"Why?"
"I ordered a thous—"
Before I could finish, masks started fountain-ing out from the daily necessities shelf. I'd never seen so many spill over even while they auto-sorted.
"Ah."
"Ah."
"Ah."
All three of us had the same reaction. Masks everywhere—no room to step.
"Sorry."
"You must really be sick."
"Go rest."
"Yeah, Grand Chef, head in. We'll clean up."
I tore open a mask tripping me up, slapped it on, and headed to the break room. They'd handle cleanup fine.
"Cough! Cough!"
I coughed my way to sleep.
Masked Demon Lord. The Masked Demon Lord, wearing a mask resembling a devil's face, alternated glances between the hemp-cloth banner in his hand and the building before him.
"Jeez. Not even a single line of explanation..."
He eyed the brightly glowing building ahead with bewilderment. The banner only said "Ghost Soul Great Forest Entrance." Scanning around, there was nothing but this weird inn-like place.
Hands behind his back, he strolled up. Bandits were wiping down outdoor tables—fierce-looking bunch at a glance. Green Forest robbers?
Would they pick a fight? As he thought that,
"Welcome!!! Guest!!"
Huh? G-guest?
"Hand over everything you've got for some tasty food!!"
That murder-smile and bizarre line—what the hell? His eyebrows twitched under the mask.
'What a freakish place. Bandits running an inn themselves?'
Robbers who loved taking by force, operating a guest house? And what connection did Manokru's owner have with them to recommend this spot?
'Guess I'll find out inside.'
The Masked Demon Lord strode into the convenience store.
Ding-a-lang—
"Ah, welcome! One sec!"
"Hold on! It's a mess right now!"
He jolted again. His feet were buried in flat, square things. In decades of life, had he ever been so continuously shocked? Not once since ascending to demonic sovereign.
What was this place, startling him like this? The two women ahead were bent over, frantically picking stuff up. Hanging some on weird hooks, stacking others in a corner. Still, so much left—it might not finish today.
The Masked Demon Lord raised a hand. Masks on the floor floated up at once, stacking neatly in one corner. Took less than five minutes.
Yoo Hwa-yeon and Hwa Hyo-seon gaped at him, mouths wide.
A devil-faced mask. The realm of Object Attraction from Air, usable only by top masters. And the thick demonic qi dominating the space.
They sensed it together.
'Demonic Cult.'
A clash of righteous and demonic. The Masked Demon Lord finally spoke.
"Is the owner in?"
"Ugh! Cough! Cough!"
Coughing woke me from sleep. A wet cloth on my forehead, basin of cool water beside. Who? Had Yoo Hwa-yeon and Hwa Hyo-seon finished already?
Head spinning, I sat up slow. Felt a tad better than before. As I rose, I touched my forehead—not just for fever.
'You idiot. What were you thinking ordering a thousand?'
Waking up, regret hit again. I'd accidentally hit two extra zeros. That's why I hadn't taught Yoo Hwa-yeon the POS.
"How'd those two handle a thousand? Gotta help."
Shoes on, out of the break room. Into the store—huh.
'Did I sleep that long?'
Floor spotless. Masks neatly stacked aside. Sky outside bright. Whole day gone?
Then Yoo Hwa-yeon entered.
"Grand Chef, up already? You okay?"
"Already...?"
"Barely an hour since you went in?"
Just an hour, and a thousand sorted? Not even next day? They were that good?
As I pondered, I spotted something. A man at an inside table, watching me. Devil-faced mask, sharp eyes glinting through slits. Dangerously sinister at a glance—but I knew instantly.
'Masked Demon Lord.'
The novel described him: unspeakable cruelty, horns gleaming in dark nights as worlds crumbled.
Gulp. Nervous swallow. Why was a Demonic Cult sovereign here? Heard the rumors too?
Then he rose, walking slowly my way. Unsettling. Why come over? Don't.
Thick demonic qi flooded the space. To modern me, it felt like invisible hands choking my throat. Chills, hard to breathe. That was demonic qi.
Glanced desperately at Yoo Hwa-yeon and Hwa Hyo-seon—no use. They were frozen too.
Couldn't even swallow when he closed in. His eerie mask loomed, low voice leaking through.
"What faction?"
"...?"
What faction?
"Righteous Execution Squad? Shadowless Squad?"
Righteous Execution what? Shadowless who? I stayed silent; he raised an arm. Index finger pointed at my face.
"That mask. Never seen it."
Mask? Sanity snapped back. Fear forgotten in sickness, now dizziness doubled.
Stagger— he caught me.
"You've fallen ill."
Head tilted, questioning.
"Masked guests don't catch sickness easy."
Masked guests? He mistook my mask for subordinate gear?
"Tch, troublesome."
Cold sweat beaded.
"Sit lotus position."
No refusal—like an obedient kid, back turned, legs crossed.
Then a warm, broad palm touched my back gently. So soft, I nearly gasped.
"Can you circulate true qi?"
Huh? Can't do that.
"Figures. If you could, no illness. Just sit."
What? This tsundere vibe?
Palm heated up. Warmth spread, then cool refresh. Like a hot patch on my back.
Then goosebumps everywhere. Sweat poured, coughs surged out.
"Kek! Cough! Cough!"
He pulled away.
"Huh?"
No pain. Dizziness gone, eye ache vanished, no more coughs. Heavy body now feather-light. No clue how, but turning to thank—
"Gasp!"
Something sharp hovered at my throat. His demonic-qi-clad fingertip. Sharper, harder than any blade.
"You're no masked guest. None of my kids have such a wrecked body."
One twitch, throat pierced.
"Who are you? Why mask if not one of ours?"
Blood trickled down my collarbone.