Chapter 163: Bounty Hunter 2
Chapter 163: Bounty Hunter 2
Being good-looking draws eyes. Women flock to you.
That said, nobody ever tried to force the issue. Whether I was sipping coffee in the familiar streets of the Eastern Continent or lounging in some café on the Southern Continent, nursing a drink I'd never seen before—if I turned them down, they'd flush red and quietly retreat. It wasn't that the humans of this world were more mature than the ones from my last life.
"Hey. Hey! Behind you, dumbass!"
"Behind me—wh—urk!"
A woman who'd been steaming after I wouldn't hand over my number took one aggressive stride toward me—only for her companion behind her to hiss a frantic whisper.
The whole scene got cut short by the woman who'd been peering through the café window from the street, spotted the brewing trouble, and strode right inside: nearly two meters tall.
"Is there a problem?"
"N-no, nothing at all," the women stammered.
"I wasn't asking you." She turned to me. "Are you all right, sir?"
Aside from a slightly pronounced chest, there wasn't a trace of femininity on her—just flawless, sculpted muscle. A blonde crop cut shorter than any pixie radiated an intense big-sister aura. There was a Beating Lionheart gym nearby. She came from there, probably.
"Yeah, nothing happened. Appreciate the effort."
"No trouble at all... Thank you."
The woman's companions beat a hasty retreat, and the Incarnation's cheeks flushed as my lips curved into a faint smile. Even so, beyond the window, several more people were still staring in this direction.
Every last one of them was an Incarnation. Acting on their Constellation's orders. Hoping for a once-in-a-lifetime payday. Desperate for a Constellation's favor. Wanting to sleep with the Dream Demon. Or just knowing it'd eat them alive if a rival Incarnation made the arrest first.
For those reasons and a thousand more, Incarnations were burning their days off to roam the streets. The trouble was, not every Incarnation out there could actually track magical power. So the method they'd settled on was simple to the point of stupidity.
"Glad nothing's wrong, then. If you'll excuse me."
Since the Heart of the Exiled Serpent was known to chase men, you approached any man who looked like trouble, all under the pretext of a routine patrol. Women who'd been eyeing men on the street looking for a hookup. Groups closing in on some guy stumbling home drunk. Even couples in the middle of an argument—Incarnations swarmed them all. The spectacle was endless.
"Excuse me, I just... don't have the bus fare..."
"Ma'am, I'll drive you. Please, get in."
I'd just finished my coffee and stepped outside, and even the bus stop near the café was the same routine. Reading the whispers and surface emotions of the crowd made it clear: an old woman kept showing up around the university district, begging for change with the bus-fare excuse. She'd been appearing often enough that young students—men and women alike—recognized her on sight.
The Incarnations didn't care. Young or old, if a woman kept talking to a man and the man looked uncomfortable, they deemed it suspicious and pounced. The old woman hunched her already narrow shoulders even smaller, clasped her hands meekly, and climbed into a car that practically screamed money.
"Whoa. Things are intense today. Something going on?"
"You been living under a rock? The Incarnations are all going crazy right now."
"No wonder everyone in my club suddenly bolted."
The students who'd watched the scene snickered and walked on. To the young women who weren't the type to harass men, and to the people who obsessed over Incarnations, the whole situation probably looked like a festival. Park a few dozen tanks in front of a military otaku, or parade a few dozen idols on their way to a shoot past a fan—who wouldn't get stars in their eyes and start looking up what was going on?
I watched them go, then started walking again. I'd been dodging invitations from dawn to late afternoon, sightseeing across all four continents to kill time.
'Starting to get sick of wandering around outside.'
Getting hit on, watching Incarnations do their thing—it's only entertaining the first couple of times. After the tenth time in half a day, it's nothing but a headache. I'd already choked down sickeningly sweet drinks in Eastern Continent cafés, stuffed myself with street-cart food on the Western Continent that looked like it would harden my arteries, joined a festival on the Southern Continent where women in nothing but bikinis sprayed beer everywhere, and torn into what looked like Viking-style barbecue on the Northern Continent.
True, on the Eastern Continent, just sitting by a café window got me hit on. On the Western Continent, a drunk woman at a street stall tried her luck. On the Southern Continent, festivalgoers sidled up and tried to rub their bodies against me. And on the Northern Continent, a restaurant guest handed me her business card along with a wink. But still—it was a novel experience.
'This isn't some celebrity gossip I heard about in my last life...'
Why did a memory surface of a celebrity stepping off a plane and getting both arms loaded with gifts from stewardess-level fans? I had the distinct thought that those people must have lived exhausting lives, too.
I'd been idly watching the sunset streets, letting my thoughts drift from the Constellation invitations to handsome celebrities and sasaeng fans, when I realized where my mind had wandered and stopped walking. I'd been on the run from sunrise to sunset. A Constellation with any sense would have taken the hint by now.
※
Sense, as it turned out, was something the other guy was supposed to have. Constellations weren't exactly the type to take hints.
"...Fucking bitches."
"Huh— sorry?"
The male clerk jumped, his eyes going wide and round. He wasn't a cute girl; he was a chubby guy trying to look winsome, which only compounded the irritation I already felt. Still, I couldn't exactly snap at him—a person who'd been dealing with my bullshit all morning—and demand to know why his eyes were so damn big, now could I? Fuck.
"Um, should I send away all the Incarnations who came looking for you?"
"No. I'll go."
Maybe it was because the Constellation who'd been all soft-spoken yes ma'am, understood ma'am every single day was now scowling, dragging mothers and fathers into it, cursing fuck this and fuck that. Tears were welling in the male clerk's eyes as he helped with the paperwork. Not that it did anything for my mood.
'Do these bastards have no shame?'
A Constellation is a being created by plucking one last survivor from a dimension. One per world. Some Constellations were elegantly insane, like the Incinerating Tyrant. Others held honor and conviction as unshakable as the Impregnable Wall.
And, flip side, some just did whatever the hell they wanted—like the Heart of the Exiled Serpent.
'At least the ones at the salon kept their mouths shut.'
I'd visited in an elf body back then, hadn't I? Some of them were from fantasy worlds where elves were used as sex slaves; they'd eyed me with greasy gazes, but they hadn't spoken to me or made a move. Some Constellations, however, took it a step further.
Most Constellations—the nobles, knights, politicians, corporate tycoons, mages, the sharp minds who observed decorum—had understood the implicit rejection and backed off. The ones still clinging after everyone else had gone were the problem.
"Leave those there and get out."
"Y-yes!"
The clerk bolted, leaving the invitations behind. What made it so damn aggravating was that I couldn't simply ignore them. Invitations from Constellations tied up with my Incarnations and the Academy—Han Ye-ji's guild contract, Lee Ha-rin's ritual magic, all of it. I wanted to tell them all to go fuck themselves, but the cold, rational part of my brain pointed out I was overreacting, and that was the real problem.
They hadn't even asked for anything. They'd just sent an invitation. I couldn't exactly open with a string of profanity just because I felt lazy. Two invitations—not three, not four—wasn't warrant enough to make enemies. At that point, it wouldn't be a satisfying, cathartic beatdown. It would be acid-throwing-at-a-stranger psychotic.
If they acted rude when we met, I'd deal with it then. But the act of going to meet them in the first place was just such a colossal pain in the ass—
The violent churn of my emotions struck me as odd, but this was the second time it had happened, so I'd adapted to some extent.
'The Heart of the Exiled Serpent. That piece of shit is zero help.'
Ever since I'd destroyed one Dream Demon and swallowed its Origin, going from a half-formed thing to a complete Dream Demon, it had been like this. Back then, it hadn't been stress—just a seething, insidious lust that boiled too hot.
The Heart of the Exiled Serpent and I were bound through a Dream Demon's body; some bizarre magical link had formed between us. Dream Demons probably stimulated each other's Origins, or something like that. Point was, this fouled-up temper of mine was that bastard's fault.
Having thus rationalized everything to my own satisfaction, I headed out of the lodging.
"Constellation!"
"Lethargic Nightmare has come out."
"Ah, that's him?"
Maybe the Academy had screened them after all. Only three Incarnations waited openly in front of my lodging. Which also meant they were the three the Academy hadn't been able to turn away. Not quite on the level of the Incinerating Tyrant or the Sword That Severs the Yoke, but still from Constellations a rung or two above the Ever-Unfading Giant Tree. That must have been why the three Incarnations before me looked more unusual than I'd expected.
'Wait, is she even an Incarnation?'
An old woman in a leather cloak strung all over with talismans and animal bones. A woman whose face and every inch of exposed skin was covered in tattoos. And a girl who seemed made of liquid—was that a Slime, or a water spirit? All three sets of eyes locked onto me.
The beastkin guards who'd been quietly bristling at each other in front of my lodging bared their fangs and growled. Fair enough. These were the shameless bastards who'd planted themselves in front of a man's home and butted heads with his security, all while insisting they'd simply had to see the Constellation's face in person—enduring glares the whole time. The beastkin, whose pride had been badly bruised during the last Academy intrusion incident, had fur standing on end and teeth on full display. It was only natural.
"Greetings, Constellation—"
"My Constellation—"
"I bring my Constellation's regards—"
All three opened their mouths at once, then glared daggers at each other, eyes blazing, each one ready to fight for the right to speak first. The absurdity of it made the guards snort before I could even react, their scornful puffs of air perfectly voicing my own sentiments.
What an unbearable pain in the ass.