Chapter 9
Translator: IPO
Chapter 9
I’ll talk a little about Mickelson.
You might wonder what fun there is in suddenly bringing up a taciturn middle-aged man.
Who is this man that suddenly appears? Why doesn’t he fall under my charm?
How dare a mere human not be overwhelmed, not offer his soul, while I reveal my bare face and hum a song?
Hmm, yes, that’s a perfectly reasonable question.
Not so?
You’ve never been curious?
Impossible.
Anyway, to summarize the conclusion, that pitiful man Mickelson lost everyone he loved.
‘So it’s only natural that my bare face wouldn’t faze him.’
Losing a wife and daughter more precious than life itself all at once is, of course, heartbreaking and sorrowful.
One might ask, then, wouldn’t anyone who lost their entire family succumb to my charm? But the process through which Mickelson lost his wife and child wasn’t an ordinary accident or murder.
Mickelson was originally a high-ranking hunter from Denmark.
Before proper awakened ranking systems were even established, he was among the first generation of hunters, fighting against all sorts of abnormal phenomena and monsters from the very beginning.
His wife was likewise a first-generation hunter, but the problem was that thanks to these first-generation hunters’ relentless efforts, a considerable number of nations remained intact.
And nations absolutely despise elements they cannot control.
‘Especially ones like me.’
The early hunters wielded unprecedented power called mana, capable of defeating armies single-handedly.
At the dawn of the Great Fracture, countries tried every means to regulate, manage, and suppress hunters and awakened ones, tightening their reins by any method necessary.
Armies couldn’t kill monsters, but awakened ones could.
Armies and humans could threaten and kill awakened ones and their families.
Then, as soon as the immediate crisis passed, governments and the international union enacted a slew of previously unheard-of laws, tearing apart hunters’ rights.
Government agencies took awakened ones’ families hostage, and bank accounts and properties were seized by the state. Consequently, many hunters were forced to obey state orders like dogs.
‘Though now the roles have somewhat reversed…’
Despite the harsh and grim circumstances of the time, Mickelson fought silently to protect people.
A noble and remarkable person.
I could never have done that.
Everyone naturally prioritizes their own safety.
Yet Mickelson accomplished it solely with the resolve to protect ordinary people.
‘Now he’s aged a bit, yet still sculpted in appearance. With such a noble heart, of course his married life must have been a perfect couple, the ideal handsome man and beautiful woman.’
And at that time, in Denmark and the EU, in return for that, Mickelson lost his wife and child.
Ahaha. How amusing.
I couldn’t hold back my laughter upon hearing that story.
Not only did this pitiful man lose himself, but he also lost his wife and child.
Of course, even if it’s funny, one mustn’t show it.
Showing it might make him truly despise or dislike me, and I’d rather avoid that.
Despite appearances, I like this man.
Of course, not in a romantic sense.
I just don’t know the precise details of how his wife and child died.
Mickelson never told me, and I never intended to ask.
Curious, yes, but not curious enough to inquire directly.
Whatever the circumstances, the conclusion is clear: he lost the people he loved most at the hands of humans.
Had they died at the hands of monsters or disasters, he might have become a vengeance-driven hunter protecting humans.
But losing his wife and child to other humans caused him to lose the capacity to love, and that path ultimately led him to meet me.
A man who can no longer love, who feels no trace of beauty in the world.
And before him appears me, the beautiful one.
Isn’t it a perfect combination?
After all, succubi are a species that arouse love to charm, so one cannot charm someone who has lost the capacity to love, whose soul has a gaping hole.
Well…
If I were determined to charm him, it might be possible, but I am not like other succubi obsessed with lust, so there is no reason to do so.
Seeing the wounded, pitiful man quietly wiping cocktail glasses is already a remarkable spectacle for me.
“Haaaah… I’m getting drunk.”
Thanks to that, I enjoy coming here.
More precisely, I enjoy coming to this bar run by that pitiful man.
Even if I reveal my bare face, even if I hum songs in cheerful abandon, no one disturbs me.
This pitiful middle-aged man’s heart, gaping with a hole, submits to my beauty.
How could I ruin a precious place where I can spend a comfortable and quiet time?
“…You must have had something enjoyable happen.”
“Fufu, I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things since dawn.”
And today as well, seeing you, pitiful one barely surviving, also lifts my mood.
“What did you see?”
“The sea opened in the night sky, the morning sunlight caressed my cheek, and just now, on my way out of the house, I saw something clumsy yet cute—how could I not be in high spirits?”
“…I see.”
There’s also enjoyment in watching the pitiful, gaping-hearted man.
Seeing him, who lost his family and meaning in life, give even the faintest smile at my singing is worthwhile.
“By the way, you must be in good spirits today as well. Beautiful me appeared in a bar with no patrons, and I even sang for you. You’re as lucky as hitting the lottery.”
“Do not seduce a man who lost his wife and child. Do not play with that face either.”
“Oh my, oh my. With a face like Mickelson’s, it’s quite my type. Much more to my taste than a male idol’s youthful sweetness.”
“You have no intention of opening your heart, do you?”
“That’s true.”
It may be slightly unpleasant or sad for him, but seeing a middle-aged man, more handsome than most movie stars, who lost his family and has a hole in his heart, is perfectly to my taste.
He wants to die immediately, but his family in the afterlife wouldn’t want him to, so he survives forcibly, fragilely.
To me, it’s truly a magnificent sight.
Perhaps it’s like seeing Geumgang Mountain for the first time in autumn.
Though I pursue beauty, I am certainly a devil.
Ah, of course, the sound of this pitiful middle-aged man pouring my scotch is also pleasant.
“La~Laa~La~di~di~Laa~♩”
I find myself humming along unconsciously.
Thanks to my incessant humming, this bar is likely filled with the scent of charm and beauty.
If an ordinary person entered, they might fall under some inexplicable fascination, becoming incoherent.
Still, a glass of whiskey and a song.
A fair deal for both me and Mickelson.
And for that pitiful man, my song is probably the only joy left in life.
The only moment his face, always barely surviving, gains vitality is when my humming touches his ears.
“It may not be much of a reward for singing, but there will be an auction tonight.”
“Oh?”
At those words, my eyes, dulled by drink and atmosphere, snapped open.
Tonight.
An auction!
Not a court auction of seized goods.
As I mentioned before, the current Mapo District is poorly policed.
Abandoned gates and dungeons are scattered throughout, and the government prefers to merely control the area rather than reclaim or restore it.
Thus, all sorts of criminal organizations, illegal elements, and awakened ones who cannot emigrate due to lack of money, all gather here.
Naturally, the economy of those living in the illegal world runs on illicit goods.
All kinds of contraband, drugs, illegal weapons, illicit potions, and human trafficking flourish.
This place also has many rare items not found in legally sanctioned hunter markets.
“Thank you. Ah, may I use the back door for the first time in a while?”
“Indeed.”
Here, the back door refers not to the bar’s back entrance, but the passage leading down to the underground world where the auction will take place.
I savored my scotch, then, holding my parasol, walked to the back door.
Still, he gave me no glance as I rose.
“Shall we go together? The frail and delicate me is too scared to descend alone into this dark world.”
“….”
“Ah, that’s harsh. You cannot even spare a moment for a fragile woman? Truly heartless.”
“Even in this world, much remains lacking. Proper social justice, your delicacy, all absent.”
“Uhuhu, your jokes are still truly unfunny.”
“Apologies for the lack of humor. Unlike your beauty, my jokes are vulgar and unamusing.”
“I didn’t say that much.”
It seems today he has no intention of following me.
Last time, concerned, he may have trailed me secretly… perhaps thinking I wouldn’t notice.
“Then I shall go. If I do not return, please place even a single flower on my grave~”
“Your joke is amusing.”
Amusing, without smiling—almost feels like subtle sarcasm.
How lively.
Ah, but now that I think about it, it really annoys me.
Even though I’m smiling brightly before him, he remains unmoved and doesn’t meet my gaze.
Of course, I have no romantic interest in him. Even if he were charmed by me, I have no intention to date or court him.
But I am me.
Beautiful, mind you.
A beauty capable of filling the hole in his heart.
“Humph, really not charmed, I’m starting to get annoyed.”
Even the nameless wildflowers on the street wouldn’t be so indifferent.
‘Could it be Mickelson finds them prettier than me? The wildflowers can at least be offered at his family’s grave.’
Ah, that would truly annoy me.
Somehow, I suspect this man really might think that.
A nameless wildflower beats my beauty?
Even if I win against them, would it make me feel better?
“Ugh, just imagining it makes me upset…”
How can everything possibly make me feel bad?
This man is truly a bad influence.
No matter what I imagine, he ruins my perfect mood.