The Debtor Who Came Calling… Got Run Over

A debt collector came... and I got hit by a truck. It was such a clichéd trope that some might curse at it, but for the one actually living through it, curses rose up on their own.

When I opened my eyes, I had reincarnated into the murim world. With my dick gone, no less.

Fuck.

I swallowed the curse that refused to leave my lips and looked in the mirror.

It would have been nice to be born the cherished daughter of a wealthy house. Sadly, my new family were dirt-poor commoners.

To pre-modern farmers, a daughter wasn’t a particularly useful resource. Raise her nicely, sell her off to some high place for a few coins, and that was it—an existence no different from livestock.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I had grown into quite the beauty. Snow-white hair and crimson eyes. I’d expected to be scorned as ominous, yet perhaps because this was the murim, hair colors here were a riot of every shade imaginable.

Thanks to that, I became the family’s only treasure.

Whenever Father came home drunk, he would beat me without fail. But he cleverly spared my stomach and face.

Because my value ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as merchandise couldn’t be allowed to drop. I mustn’t be infertile, and any scar on that pretty face would slash my price.

It was truly a shame that my parents were barbaric pre-modern people who knew nothing of stress management.

Then one day, it happened.

People dressed elegantly in black silk descended upon the village.

My parents called them the Black-Clad, honored ones from the main headquarters.

Every villager lined up with their children before their gates. Like goods displayed at a market.

The Black-Clad swept their gazes over us, then pointed at me and a few others.

My parents wept tears of gratitude and shoved me toward them.

“Aigoo, thank you! Thank you, my lords!”

Were these people so revered? To be that overjoyed while sending off their own child.

No.

It was probably the few silver coins placed in their hands the moment I was handed over.

A few silver coins.

That was the price of my parents’ tears and the value assigned to my life.

Though I had been born in a woman’s body, the memories of my previous life as a man remained etched into my bones. So it felt unfair. Why should I have to lie beneath these bastards?

Besides, among the children being dragged away, boys outnumbered the girls. Some were already giving my body filthy, leering looks.

I’d rather die than let one of those males hold me.

I secretly slipped a small but sharply honed sliver of wood into my clothes.

If anyone tried to touch my body, I intended to stab him in the throat and die with him.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And so we followed the Black-Clad deep into the mountains.

The place we reached was the mouth of a colossal cave.

“This is where you will live from now on.”

One of the Black-Clad spoke indifferently.

We looked at one another, not understanding what was happening.

With the clang of a massive iron door slamming shut, that place became hell. Hundreds, thousands—perhaps tens of thousands. That many children were locked inside a hell where they could only escape by devouring one another.

At first, those who had come together tried to cooperate.

“Let’s survive and get out of here together, okay?”

It was a child with clear, bright eyes.

We clasped hands.

But the food and water that fell from the ceiling each day had limits, and conflict soon sprouted.

There was one child who took on the role of leader. That child comforted the terrified ones and established a rationing system. Order was created so everyone could cooperate and survive. The ones good at fighting went out to gather food, while the clever-handed children tended the wounded. Once healed, they went out to fight again and bring back more food.

If things continued like this, it seemed we might survive this hell as human beings.

“...What are you doing?”

One night, I witnessed it.

“Ah, ahaha… you saw? This isn’t what you think—”

Our leader. The one who had been kind. The one who, despite serious injuries, had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with me just days before. The one who had torn off pieces of his own rice ball to share with starving younger children. Someone who truly should not have died.

That child was now on top of an injured girl whose clothes had been stripped off, eyes gleaming like a beast’s.

Betrayal? Rage?

No, nothing so noble.

It was fear.

What if I got hurt? What if I became as helpless as that girl someday?

The next victim would be me.

I gripped the wooden sliver I had hidden in my clothes.

My hand shook violently.

But I had to live.

Thud.

With a dull sound, hot liquid splashed across my face.

That day, I killed a person for the first time.

The group collapsed.

Having lost their focal point, the children began to distrust one another, and even more died.

The number of starving and injured only grew.

Therefore, my actions were not righteous.

It had not come from any sense of justice about punishing a rapist.

This was not something that could be defended.

Yes, I had simply been scared.

Because if I stood by and did nothing, the next prey could be me.

It was nothing more than the ugly, selfish instinct to survive.

I had to live.

I was the kind of wicked bastard who would kill even the comrade who had trusted me, all for the single-minded obsession with staying alive.

After that, my memories are fragmented.

I fought.

I stabbed.

I beat them.

I bit.

Even when my nails tore off and my teeth shattered, I did not stop until I had taken their breath.

Unfortunately—or fortunately—I had a talent.

A talent for killing people.

By the time my hair had grown long enough to touch the floor and an unknown power began to boil in my dantian, I suddenly realized how long my arms and legs had become.

At that moment, the sky split open and light poured down.

Along with the light, I—who now had a number instead of a name—escaped that hell.

...What had my original name been?

Baek Seol.

Yes, the name my father had casually given me because I was white as snow.

Only then did I learn the identity of the Black-Clad.

The Heavenly Demon Cult.

The ones I had only read about in murim novels in my blurry previous-life memories were the architects of that hell. They called it the Gu Cave—a means to raise the greatest warriors, the ultimate human weapons for the cult.

It was absurd. How could anyone who had grown up devouring their comrades swear loyalty to the cult?

There couldn’t possibly be an idiot who would do that after experiencing that hell.

Yet I did exactly that.

The food was truly delicious. So delicious it brought tears to my eyes.

The bedding was soft as clouds, and I no longer had to worry about someone coming to slit my throat while I slept.

With treatment like this, maybe a little loyalty isn’t so bad.

I worked quite diligently.

I did what I was told, killed who I was ordered to kill, and beat who I was told to beat.

Only then did I realize my talent was far from ordinary.

And that the realm I had reached inside that hell was quite high.

I had thought that in this world, being even a little strong simply meant blades wouldn’t pierce you—that it was a basic passive.

But the day I left the hell, I was already a Peak Expert.

Time passed, and on the day I became an adult, I reached the Transforming Realm.

On the day I officially rose to Elder and received the Heavenly Demon’s appointment, I knelt calmly and recited the customary oath of loyalty.

It was, after all, a mere formality.

The Heavenly Demon’s sudden declaration left me his disciple before I could even react.

What the fuck.

The 1st Elder had told me to simply go, kneel, say the customary words, listen to a few edifying remarks, and come back down.

Being the Heavenly Demon’s disciple was not a relationship that could be explained away as a simple master-disciple bond.

The Heavenly Demon’s teachings meant the transmission of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, an art only the cult leader could learn.

In other words, that man had suddenly named me—someone he had met for less than five minutes—his successor.

Even though he had a daughter. A daughter who was a genius comparable to me.

No matter how meritocratic the Demonic Cult was, he could have easily aimed for hereditary succession. So why?

The main hall had descended into chaos, but it only calmed after nightfall. Though half the Elders had been carried out with broken bones. If that could be called calm.

They had attacked first, so this was clearly self-defense.

If they were upset, they should have been stronger.

The Heavenly Demon took me to his chambers.

He sat me at the table beside the bed and brought out alcohol.

What is this? Did his wife die and now he’s already craving a woman? Even if I am beautiful, his own disciple?

I swallowed hard, tense enough to consider whether even a Profound Realm master might overlook a single act of rebellion.

“8th Elder, do you drink?”

“Ah, forgive me.”

“Then it cannot be helped. I shall drink alone, so please understand.”

Fortunately, it seemed he wasn’t trying to force himself on me.

I relaxed a little and waited for what would come next.

“Do you know how old I am?”

“This one dares not presume to know the years of the Heavenly Demon, for whom time holds no chains.”

After all, the Heavenly Demon was both cult leader and a living legend. There was no way a mere low-ranking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠follower like me would know such personal details.

I might have learned in a day or two now that I was an Elder, but even then, since those in the Profound Realm did not age, his youthful appearance in his thirties gave no clue.

“Heh heh. Pleasant flattery.” The Heavenly Demon emptied his cup and added, “But remember this. The position of Elder is not obtained through flattery.”

“...This one is ashamed.”

“It is fine. Today I am in a rather good mood. This Seat will soon reach sangsu.”

Sangsu.

In other words, he was approaching ninety years of age at the very least.

He was older than I thought?

Wait.

Wasn’t his only daughter currently seven years old?

...It seemed even Profound Realm masters did not lose their vigor. Or perhaps he was simply exceptionally skilled at contraception. Truly useless information.

“You would not know, but there is an unwritten rule in the cult that only the Heavenly Demon knows.”

“Is it permissible for me to hear it?”

“Of course. Are you not now this Seat’s disciple, the Young Heavenly Demon?”

Damn it. I had been trying to deny it.

Well, from the atmosphere, it seemed he was about to explain why he had chosen me as the Young Heavenly Demon.

Let’s hear him out.

“If one challenges for the seat of the Heavenly Demon and survives even after losing.” He asked mischievously, “Do you know what that loser becomes?”

“I have heard they become a Supreme Elder and serve the cult eternally.”

“Correct. However, there is one more path to becoming a Supreme Elder.” The Heavenly Demon raised a single finger. “When one reaches sangsu while holding the seat of the Heavenly Demon, one must step down and become a Supreme Elder.”

So there was such a rule.

It must have been the wisdom of the ancestors to keep the Law of the Strong from stagnating too much. After all, if someone ruled with an iron fist for a hundred years, positions would be decided by flattery and favor rather than strength.

“This Seat has only one concern. My daughter.”

“Why is Lady Cheon Sowol...”

“That child is a genius. But she is still young.” Worry clouded his eyes. “By the time I step down, she will not yet have the power to protect herself.”

When the Heavenly Demon stepped down, Cheon Sowol would be about sixteen.

Far too young to reach the minimum requirement for Elder—Transforming Realm.

And inside the cult that would fall into chaos to choose a new Heavenly Demon, the position of the previous Heavenly Demon’s daughter would be nothing more than a poisoned chalice. Survival would be difficult.

“Then... after you step down, you wish for me to take the seat of the Heavenly Demon and look after Lady Cheon Sowol?”

“I would be grateful if you did.”

“......”

“This is not a negotiation. I am simply giving the future Heavenly Demon one debt in advance.”

“You mean that when Lady Cheon Sowol grows up, I should lose appropriately and hand over the seat of the Heavenly Demon?”

“If you would, there could be nothing better.”

“How could one who belongs to the cult disobey the Heavenly Demon’s command? I shall accept the order.”

What? This was pure honey.

I would inherit the seat of the Heavenly Demon, live luxuriously, enjoy myself, and when the time came, lose on purpose, step down as Supreme Elder, and enjoy myself again. The genius Cheon Sowol would clean up any messes I made. Didn’t that mean I could live without a single worry, just sucking on honey?

“Good. It feels as if I have gained a thousand soldiers and ten thousand horses.”

And so began my life as the Young Heavenly Demon, all for the sake of a sweet, easy existence.

The Heavenly Demon Divine Art was easier than expected. As expected of a divine art. Even a monkey could become an absolute master learning it.

The Heavenly Demon was shocked and grumbled that the world was unfair, but my talent was indeed real.

I also grew close with Cheon Sowol, the one who would become the next Heavenly Demon. She had been wary at first, but it wasn’t difficult. After giving her candy a few times and watching over her martial training, she soon followed me like a puppy, calling me “Unnie, unnie.”

How adorable it was to watch such a tiny thing swing her little hands and feet while practicing martial arts.

Sometimes I would watch her train or stroke her hair, finding her utterly endearing.

Before I knew it, three years had passed in the blink of an eye.

If things continued like this, it seemed I would live on in peace.

At least until I overheard that conversation.