Chapter 89
Chapter 89
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Currents Below the Surface
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Wayford's handful of high-end brothels had been abuzz lately with talk of one particular customer.
"I heard that if you just sleep with that guy, your face gets prettier!"
"My friend got rid of her irregular periods and skin troubles too!"
"Remember that girl who was self-conscious about her cheekbones? She slept with him three times, and they sank right down!"
At first, everyone dismissed it as nonsense.
Probably just a good day where her makeup went on perfectly or her complexion looked brighter.
But it wasn't mere rumor.
As that customer's visits continued and the courtesans who'd served him multiple times visibly grew more beautiful, the other women grew urgently restless.
Cosmetic sorcery cost anywhere from three silver coins to a full gold coin per session.
And while the procedure was painful enough, sometimes the sorcery didn't take properly to the face, wasting the money entirely.
Yet serving that customer brought noticeable beauty enhancements without a hint of pain.
Moreover, he exuded an indescribably unique charm.
Unlike their hairy clients, he had smooth skin like a woman's—but he wasn't feminine at all.
Thick yet sharp eyebrows. Eyes so transparent they seemed utterly emotionless. A blade-sharp nose bridge. Composed lips. A low, velvety voice.
He was a man unlike any they'd known.
And his prowess in bed was exceptional too; every courtesan who'd been with him raved about it.
"When he thrusts and his voice flows into your ears at the same time, it's like your brain gets tickled and drugs explode inside you!"
"His dick? Compared to him, our Luke and the other guys are pathetic or just annoying."
"No swelling up like a fist right before he finishes, no uncomfortable expansion inside, no thorns pricking, no forked thing flipping your insides around~."
"He even uses polite speech with whores like us~."
"Great manners."
"Insane stamina."
"No downsides at all?"
Serving him felt good, and it was good for the body too.
The top courtesans, who could charge ten silver coins—ten million won—for a single night, grew desperate.
"Hey. When that customer comes, send him to me first, okay?"
"Butterfly sis asked first... She said she'd give me a copper coin if I brought him."
"That bitch... She promised after, right? I'll pay upfront."
They'd bribe the young errand boys used for soliciting, asking them to send the customer their way first.
"Lishi. No."
"Manager oppa. Why won't you listen? I said I'll pay ten silver coins if I get him!"
"...Kids are lining up saying they'll pay ten silver plus forfeit their own fee. Sera was just here."
"What!?"
Some were shocked to learn a dozen other girls had the same idea when demanding backroom deals from the brothel manager.
"Got it? When that customer leaves, sneak after him and just find out where he lives. Tell only me, and this silver coin is yours."
"...Sis. We can't. If madam finds out we're prying into customer info, we'll get in trouble."
"I'll take the scolding!"
"Maria!! Flirting with the kids again!?"
Slap!
"Eek!?"
"How many times have I told you? Don't snoop into customers' personal info! Why can't you get it through your head!"
"Ow, ouch! Sorry, ma'am! Ack!"
Others got their backsides smacked for trying to track down where he lived.
Similar rumors spread inside Olts Hotel, but they didn't escalate into chaos like at the brothels.
The guest in Room 306 requested bath attendants every morning and evening, always summoning a different maid.
Quarrels, big or small, meant demerits at the hotel. Starting pointless fights could pile up points and lead to dismissal—nothing but trouble for themselves.
Her turn would come eventually; no need to court risk.
"Then rest well, sir."
After finishing the bath service in Room 306, followed by the paid extras and oil massage course, the maid left the room with a wistful expression, reluctant to go.
Before closing the door, she stole one last look at the customer seated in the window chair, etching him into her memory with lingering regret. Click. She shut the door and turned away.
She wished she could stay all day.
'Ugh, it's dripping...'
Sensing something trickling down her inner thigh, she straightened her back and hurried away in quick steps.
Hwan-in, seated by the window in his gown, felt the presence beyond the door fade. He rose and gazed out at the darkened city.
His eyes caught a faint soul drifting hazily through the streets, like a wandering spirit.
'Almost no women left with lingering warmth in the high-end brothels now. Time to hunt souls.'
For nearly three weeks, Hwan-in had embraced two or three courtesans daily, like a sex addict.
The three brothels had around fifty courtesans total, rank regardless.
He'd slept with forty of them, spending three gold coins—thirty million won—in fees.
No regrets. He'd gleaned insights into Wayford's underworld too—learning that gangs like the mafia, yakuza, triads, and syndicates existed here.
And he'd harvested massive warmth.
In twenty days, his soul orbs rose from 26 to 35, duration from 35 to now 35 hours, and Soul Possession from 35 minutes longer too.
Women took 40 to 60 days to fully restore warmth, varying by individual. Hwan-in wouldn't need the brothels again anytime soon.
Changing into everyday clothes and donning a hooded cloak, he stirred his emergency rations—a massive woven basket nest—where the Kue slept soundly. It blinked groggily at the noise.
Kue...?
"Nothing. Keep sleeping."
Kuuu...
Twenty days of eating and sleeping in the room had ballooned the Kue's weight.
He lifted one wing from its snoring form. Hefty. Probably four kilos now.
A goose-sized body at this weight meant it couldn't fly yet.
'Green Kue grow four to five stages.'
Wayford's central commercial district had a Kue market.
Hwan-in had bought drinks for elders there, learning about Kue breeds, age-telling, growth conditions—including green Kue stages.
Hatching with feathers and flight: first growth.
Horn vanishing, goose-sized: second.
Wolf-sized, sturdy legs for running: third.
Full size like other Kue: fourth to fifth.
'Male wolves weigh around 40kg. But as a bird...'.
Probably 20 to 30kg max.
Draping a dry bath towel over it, Hwan-in left the hotel, exhaling long as the cool night breeze swept over him.
The changing season brought refreshingly non-muggy winds.
Hand on his axe at his waist, he walked the now-familiar tree-lined streets.
Clop clop clop—
A two-horse cart with a small lantern rumbled past noisily.
This wasn't Korea; nights weren't safe. The central area was better with patrols, but ordinary districts saw frequent disappearances and murders.
Hence the stone axe for self-defense.
Hwan-in's axe-throwing was pinpoint at 50m now.
Less versatile than a bow, but ideal for narrow urban roads. The thigh-length cloak hid it perfectly.
Patrol guards might question it, but his official ID would cover self-defense claims.
While gathering knowledge, he'd learned about ID issuance.
City admins required a reliable guarantor. Without one: ten gold coins plus buying property, or completing admin quests to build credit.
Or proving a special job like Soul Shaman.
Once issued in one city, renewals elsewhere were easy sans verification.
First one was the hurdle.
Without it, some cities barred commercial zones or labyrinth entry.
'Quite the debt.'
At the crossroads, Hwan-in scanned around, spotting a soul lurking toward the cemetery. He headed that way.
Two hours post-sunset. Streetlights kept sidewalks lit, yet scarce pedestrians.
'Taverns and brothel district must have everyone.'
Glancing at a three-story building beside, lit windows revealed families laughing. He could hear them.
"...?"
Hwan-in halted abruptly, struck by an unfamiliar emotion filling his chest.
What was this? Why were his parents' faces suddenly surfacing?
The temperature hadn't dropped, yet it felt colder than leaving the hotel.
A fleeting thought made him chuckle wryly.
'Isilite's ditzy vibe... I miss it? Am I losing it?'
Resuming his walk, he recalled yesterday's news from Anplind.
Isilite, entering week three of training, was excelling passionately.
Seemed desperately driven, but that was fine.
'Training on track... Next twenty days: souls at night, labyrinth info by day.'
He'd ordered her absurdly sturdy greatsword via Ssa.
Armor sizes via Anplind; ready when she finished maid training.
His own leather reinforced with monster hide, preserving design.
Everything per plan, no hitches.
So why this lingering chest pang?
'...Loneliness?'
Recalling his parents gone over five years, and unbelievably Isilite, confirmed it: loneliness.
Hwan-in rubbed his face.
Loneliness out of nowhere. He'd felt many emotions since arriving, but this confused him.
"...".
But it passed quickly.
Closing his eyes, suppressing it with deep breaths, the unfamiliar feeling vanished.
Brushing it off, Hwan-in stood at the park entrance, reading the metal plaque on the ornate stone pillar gate.
[Wayford Second Cemetery]
"...".
He eyed the dark park.
Well-groomed trees soothed the eyes.
Paved paths wound through them, moonflowers and nameless blooms glittering under silver moonlight.
This a cemetery?
Even charitably, it looked like an outdoor botanical garden, not a graveyard.
'Tombstones where...? Ah, those?'
Activating Soul Vision, the black world grayed to clarity. He spotted atypical tombstones.
Art sculptures, really.
At the entrance under a stylish Y-shaped tree stood a statue—and atop it, a soul. From within, lights approached slowly.
Ting...
Ting...
A calming bell accompanied the shadow.
A woman in spotless white hooded robe, like moonlight, carrying a redwood lantern and leaning on a staff like Charon's.
'Cemetery keeper. Not an adventurer.'
Her hood evoked a noblewoman's shawl, not monk or Klan garb—more like a special arborist.
She stopped ten meters away, tilting her head slightly.
Under the hood: slender nose, soft lips, refined jaw.
Even that hinted at extraordinary beauty.
'...Hm?'
Suddenly, Hwan-in realized she lacked a color hue.
All people he'd seen, men included, shared his pale green. Adsect, an eighth race, was bluish as insects, not beasts.
'No. Pure achromatic white.'
Skin and robe so white it tricked the eye.
White hue? Not human? As suspicion rose, she spoke softly, voice clear and pure.
"What brings you here so late?"
"Something caught my eye on the way; I'm just admiring."
"...".
"I haven't entered."
"Night belongs to souls. This is a cemetery. Heaven's path closes to those disturbing the dead's rest."
Her refined tone intrigued Hwan-in about her.
Few here mentioned souls casually.
Even Ssa, chatty on travels nearing a month, rarely uttered "soul"—countable on one hand.
Despite Hwan-in's job warranting it, never broached.
Yet she referenced souls, conviction lacing her words.
All keepers like this? Soul Shaman like him? And what race grants white hue?
"Are you this place's keeper?"
"I humbly strive for the souls' rest."
Neither yes nor no. Soul Shaman maybe.
Hwan-in probed further.
"I see. No souls here seem disturbed, from what I observe. May I look a bit more?"
"...".
She fell silent at his inviting words.
"I intend no disturbance; worry not."
"...".
Expression hidden below nose.
'Not a Soul Shaman, then.'
If she saw souls like him, she'd grasp his meaning. Otherwise... Uncertain yet, she excused herself softly.
"May I beg a moment? It won't harm you."
No malice in her vibe, so he nodded. She extended her staff, lips firming.
Hwan-in unconsciously narrowed his eyes, staring.
A faint haze rose above her shoulders.
Not an adventurer's aura.
More like the mist cloaking a soul's form.