Traitor Merchant (2)
“You don’t happen to not be an immortal at this point, do you?!”
“I am an immortal.”
He’d hoped against hope for even a one-in-a-hundred chance, but no such luck.
If Gerald stood at the pinnacle of martial might, then Simra was undeniably at the apex of the merchant world.
In other words, someone Ju Kang-rim would eventually have to kill.
And yet, here he was, shaking hands with that very target?
“Ju Kang-rim, Reaper.”
Yoo Wol-ryeong placed a calm hand on Ju Kang-rim’s shoulder and whispered.
“I arranged this meeting at his request for a conversation. So, I’d appreciate it if you’d talk. Simra has something he wants to say.”
“Does that guy know we’re Grim Reapers? Here to hunt immortals?”
“He knows.”
Yoo Wol-ryeong said it plainly, then corrected herself.
“Actually, it was Simra who first proposed hunting immortals.”
An immortal suggesting to hunt immortals? What the hell did that mean?
Ju Kang-rim wondered if it was some twisted dynamic like with Gerald and Kangryeong Daegun, but he dismissed it immediately upon recalling what he knew of Simra.
Simra had zero interest in human power struggles or petty fights for dominance. The only thing that ever caught his eye was…
Ju Kang-rim recalled Simra’s nature and froze.
“What the hell kind of deal did Simra strike with Yeomra?”
“Calling it a ‘deal’ is unfair.”
Yoo Wol-ryeong stated matter-of-factly.
“To be precise, Yeomra played Simra for a fool.”
“……Played him for a fool?”
“Scammed him rotten might be more fitting.”
“What kind of terms could possibly lead to a contract like that……”
A voice came from behind him then.
“This is a first—being ignored for so long.”
Simra approached, flapping his white scarf dramatically. Ju Kang-rim felt a visceral urge to back away as that half-naked body drew near—an instinctive revulsion toward the man himself, not because he was a guy.
His bodyguards trailed naturally behind, as if on cue.
“Ju Kang-rim, Reaper. Looks like you’ve never dealt with someone who can wield qi before.”
“Qi?”
Ju Kang-rim echoed, and Yoo Wol-ryeong answered.
“Ju Kang-rim Reaper, your training is still lacking. You haven’t accumulated enough discipline as a full-fledged Grim Reaper yet.”
“Hmm, surprising. A new reaper like that.”
Ju Kang-rim’s hand twitched toward his hand axe at Simra’s taunt, but Yoo Wol-ryeong responded with a chilling chill in her voice.
“But that doesn’t mean he lacks the ability to kill. Ju Kang-rim Reaper is a legitimate agent of the underworld, Yeomra’s proxy sent to collect scum like you immortals. Don’t test the authority of the underworld with your insolence—unless you have no attachment to your life.”
Ju Kang-rim was stunned by Yoo Wol-ryeong’s words, dripping like icicles. She could deliver such a long, polite threat?
Simra’s bodyguards seemed to scoff at her words, but Simra himself clasped his hands, bowed deeply in humble apology.
“I apologize for my guards’ rudeness. Yoo Wol-ryeong Reaper, Ju Kang-rim Reaper.”
“Simra-nim?”
His guards were the flustered ones now. They couldn’t defy him after that, so they awkwardly bowed and muttered apologies.
Ju Kang-rim felt an odd sensation receiving an apology from Simra. The guy apologizing? He’d seemed like the type who’d never say sorry in his life.
But the moment Simra straightened up, he reverted to his cheerful self like nothing happened.
“Alright, apology time’s over—let’s talk business!”
“Business?” Ju Kang-rim echoed.
“That’s right, Ju Kang-rim Reaper. You said you had a deal to propose, didn’t you?”
This was about the Shine Sand on board. But the moment Ju Kang-rim laid eyes on Simra, all thoughts of Shine Sand or whatever evaporated.
What was the difference between this guy and Kangryeong Daegun? If the latter couldn’t have it, neither could Simra.
“Simra…… sir. Mind if I talk with my colleague a bit more?”
Ju Kang-rim muttered through a twisted smile. He wanted to add, keep pushing and I’ll kill you, but with his promise to Yoo Wol-ryeong, he didn’t want to act like some clumsy punk.
“Curious about the deal with Yeomra? No need for Yoo Wol-ryeong Reaper to explain—I’ll tell you.”
Simra waggled his fingers languidly.
“You all know the Emperor’s New Clothes, right?”
The fairy tale where a swindler sells invisible clothes visible only to the pure-hearted, and the truth dawns only after a child shouts that the emperor is naked.
Ju Kang-rim nearly scowled—what, storytime now?—but Simra pivoted quickly.
“My tale’s about that merchant in the story.”
“The merchant?”
“Yes. In that tale, the merchant didn’t scam the emperor. He really brought clothes only the pure-hearted could see. It’s just that in that kingdom, not even a child was pure anymore.”
“That’s what people call a scam.”
“Well, fairy tales are just metaphors.”
Simra murmured with a round-eyed smile.
“Long ago, a merchant realized the world was about to end.”
Ju Kang-rim fell into deep silence.
The end of the world. He’d seen it with his own eyes before dying, so he knew this wasn’t metaphor or allegory—it was fact. And that merchant was Simra himself.
“The merchant knew an inescapable end was coming, that soon everything on this land would die, jumble into chaos, and become nothing.”
The world Ju Kang-rim had witnessed before his death. The living, dead, and abominations all mixed in ruin.
“When everything crumbles and all life dies, what meaning is left? So the merchant……”
Simra paused dramatically, eyes flashing.
“……realized the world’s end was one hell of a product.”
Ju Kang-rim was momentarily speechless. Had he heard right?
“People spare no expense to forget the fear of death. But the end of the world? How much would they pay, how great a price, to stop that?”
“You…… fucking……”
As Ju Kang-rim ground his teeth to curse, Simra pressed a finger to his lips and continued.
“So the merchant wandered the world, carrying wondrous items that could help avert the end.”
“……”
“But no one could stop the end, and no one could pay the proper price. The merchant grew anxious—the closer the end, the lower the value.”
Simra wandering to prevent the apocalypse? Ju Kang-rim eyed him skeptically.
He’d commodified doom, sure, but it meant Simra had been preparing to stop it long ago.
“But soon the time came. The merchant realized he was totally screwed. Not even breaking even—he’d be bankrupt.”
Simra’s face fell pitifully as he muttered.
“Then, a cheeky judge from the underworld appeared, wearing a floral shirt.”
Yeomra, from the description alone.
“The judge offered a deal: I’ll save the world, but give me three of your treasures.”
“……Three?”
“The Inkstone of Eternal Memory, the Brush That Forgot Its Master, the Ink That Never Mixes.”
Simra sighed deeply recounting the items he’d surrendered.
“To break even, the merchant had to hand them over at a loss. Dreams of trading the world gone, left a pathetic fool who took a massive hit.”
Simra wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. Faking it? No, he was genuinely tearing up. Come to think of it, if he’d really taken that loss, even Simra would cry. Ju Kang-rim had seen him bawling over losing a vending machine coffee bet once.
“That’s the story. In exchange, I fetched Yeomra the three divine treasures he demanded. Plus, I agreed to trade fairly whenever he wants. That about sums it up?”
Ju Kang-rim had no clue what those three treasures were. Inkstone, brush, ink? He didn’t know their value, or if it really qualified as a scam. As Simra said, he’d lose everything in the apocalypse anyway.
“By now, you’re wondering why that counts as getting scammed, right, Reaper Ju?”
Simra whispered with a sly grin.
“Some people have to pay money and power just to talk with me sometimes. I’m that kind of existence. And with a ‘fair trade’ clause to boot.”
“Impressive.”
Ju Kang-rim said politely, hoping his sarcasm landed.
Simra smirked back, as if to say, you think I don’t get it?
“Suppose you want to sell your country but don’t know who to or how. Meet me, problem solved. Or want to buy one but don’t know how? Come to me—I’ll sell it to you. Fair price, of course.”
Ju Kang-rim realized the scale of Simra’s sacrifice.
Deals were Simra’s sole obsession—not mere transactions, but joy, purpose, his very identity. He reveled in negotiations, haggling, the thrill of closing, especially the bigger and tougher the deal.
Money, power, assets? Mere byproducts. But Yeomra had nailed him to “fair trades only.”
No scamming clients—his greatest merchant pleasure—especially not a big fish like Yeomra.
His enemies sneered “Traitor Merchant,” but he called himself Samra Man-sang—merchant of all things under heaven. Nothing unbought, unsold.
“Want something rare? Come to me. Got valuables but no buyer? Come to me. They’d better be worth it, though.”
Ju Kang-rim snorted.
“Then why not sell all the immortals’ lives from the start?”
“Shall I?”
Simra replied seriously, no smile.
“Tough, but doable. If you can pay the price.”
“What price?”
Simra snapped his fingers. Bracelets on his wrist jingled melodiously.
“Yeomra’s underworld registry.”