This is Hell, Alright 2

My breath caught in my throat. It passed right in front of me, just a meter away. Not the soft fur you'd expect from a teddy bear doll, but ragged patches of torn and festering hide poking through.

Cortisol, the stress hormone, was flooding my system nonstop—worse than some YouTuber who never stops pumping it out. I had to stay calmer than that.

Whoa. Fuck.

It looked like something forgotten in a dusty old toy warehouse for decades. The discolored fur was a sickly yellow, smeared with weird stains everywhere. Some parts were charred black like they'd been singed by fire, others melted away as if corroded by acid.

Stay calm… stay fucking calm.

It was a bear doll, alright. Or something humanoid wearing a massive bear doll costume. It moved with clumsy, awkward steps, like a puppet trying to learn how to walk on its own—or like a marionette with its strings cut, limbs flailing wildly.

Fuck. Does it have to walk like that? What is this, a goddamn scary walking contest?

The mannequin monster earlier had the same vibe—if scaring the shit out of people with your gait was the goal, mission accomplished. But I wasn't scared. Fuck that. If it attacked, I was confident I could land a solid fire punch on it. Hell, I could even chuck a fireball—not that I'd call it dignified; it was about baseball-sized at best. My fingertips tingled faintly, sparks flickering at the tips.

If that monster lunged, I'd burn it to ash without hesitation.

Come at me, you bastard.

Tap-tat-tat-tap. Tap-tap.

It kept moving. The footsteps echoed, the sound shifting directions like it was bouncing off walls. From the front, then suddenly behind me, sometimes both sides at once. Then it whooshed right across my field of vision, like it was taunting me.

The bear doll would crawl on all fours sometimes, then rear up on two legs. Each time, its joints cracked with a grotesque snap-crackle.

Snap. Crack. Like dry twigs breaking. No—more like human bones snapping.

Suddenly, a stench hit my nose. Rotting meat mixed with old sewage, filling the air with nauseating rot. Something inside that doll was decaying.

It's close…

I held my breath. My heartbeat thundered in my ears so loud I worried the monster could hear it. My whole body went rigid with tension, cold sweat trickling down my back.

Then, so casually… swish. The fog parted, and the monster bear's face appeared right in front of me.

The bear doll's face was utterly distorted. One eye crudely stitched shut with thread, the other an empty abyss. But the worst was the mouth. A torn gash grinning in a Joker Smile, lined with what looked like human teeth crammed into the lips.

Fuck me.

You know that cheap jump scare shit? The lazy "gotcha" frights. That's why I hate B-movie horror. I barely stifled a scream. I cocked back for the fire punch but held off. Cortisol surged, and my brain sliced time into seconds, feeding me options: Block and counter? Strike first? Fire punch? Lob a cute ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little fireball and run? Or was there another way to survive?

……!!!

The surefire survival method flashed through my brain and across my face.

I grinned—a perfect Joker Smile right back at the monster bear doll.

That's it.

The demons' friend-or-foe ID method. Sure enough, the bear doll monster froze. It tilted its head at my Joker Smile, then shook side to side like a misfiring engine—whirr!! Its head snapped 180 degrees to stare at the sky. Then its twisted body scattered the fog and bolted off somewhere.

Haa… fucking hell. Even its movements were terrifying.

The friend-or-foe check was how demons distinguished humans. This bear doll thought I was a demon.

"Hoo…"

Fog was prime territory for jump scares. A bear doll monster… twisting the ultimate friendly metaphor—kids' best friend, their guardian—into something vicious. A wave of relief hit, followed by chills creeping up late.

I didn't want to follow wherever it'd gone. I crouched low toward the direction it'd fled, lowering my head. The lower I went, the farther my vision stretched through the fog—had to practically touch the ground to see ahead. I braced my palms on the cold asphalt and leaned down.

With my head near the pavement, something emerged below the fog.

Not the bear doll's legs. Even on all fours, it wouldn't look like that.

What the hell is that?

A black mass sprawled on the asphalt road. Long and stretched out along the ground. At first, I thought it was a black cloth flapping in the wind, or maybe a dropped scarf or shawl.

But as the shape sharpened, my blood turned to ice. My heart stuttered, then pounded. A chill ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ran through me.

Hair.

Swish. Black hair swept across the ground. Definitely human—long straight hair fanned out like a peacock tail on the asphalt. Like it was bundled from multiple people.

And peeking through the strands: something white. A woman's face. Eyes closed. Skin pale, no sign of breathing. Asleep? Dead? Couldn't tell.

No neck. Just a severed head.

……!!

Whoa. This was too much. My heart felt like it would leap out of my chest.

Then the severed head's eyes snapped open!

Fuck. Okay… fine, that got me. A little scary, I'll admit. Dry swallow stuck in my throat. Goosebumps erupted like boils.

A severed-head ghost? Classic.

"Guweeeek!"

With a grotesque gurgle, the woman's mouth gaped wide, vomiting black liquid. Straight out of a horror flick—it seeped into the sidewalk cracks.

……That was when it happened.

Bloodshot eyes locked straight on me. Then slowly, so slowly… its mouth tore wider, ripping toward its ears in three escalating stages of terror, out-screaming even High-Yoo's falsetto.

I wanted to scream but held it in. Even after all the Joker Smiles today, my heart dropped.

Get used to the horror, right? What else can happen—death?

Yeah, big talk. Don't freak out. Fuck.

Forcing courage, I checked the head: pretty face. Resembled that Chinese actress Zhou Yuqi. Heard she offed herself after servicing some Communist Party bigwig.

Damn, you're kinda hot. Eek!

My gasp? Simple. Suddenly, the head rolled straight at me.

"!!!"

Roll-roll-roll. Roll-roll-roll-roll.

Roll-roll-roll-roll-roll. Roll-roll-roll-roll-roll-roll-roll-roll.

The rattling of a rolling head was nightmare fuel. Probably the skull clacking against asphalt…

"Fuck!"

Couldn't take this. Pure instinct kicked in. Even a pretty face rolling at you like a soccer ball? Terrifying.

My right foot swung like a penalty kick. Felt like punting a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ball—thwack! A dull splat like a bursting melon, and it flew off.

Splorch. A pathetic splat echoed from afar.

I'd soccer-kicked the severed-head monster.

Don't fuck with me.

That was when it hit.

What the—!? I blinked stupidly at the status window floating in front of me. Rubbed my eyes, shook my head—nope, it stayed put.

"Crawling Head? What's T-16?"

There was a lowercase 'i' icon next to Soul Harvest. I held it down, and a detailed explanation popped up.

Demon Hunter? What the fuck? Is this a game??

Why hadn't I shouted that word yet? I muttered it quietly.

"Sta… status window."

"……"

"Skills."

"……"

"Stats."

"……"

What? No dice. The earlier window was gone.

So Soul Harvest was a skill for near-dead targets?

The key bit: "Demon Hunter exclusive skill."

"No way… am I a Demon Hunter?"

Dad wasn't a demon—maybe a Demon Hunter? And I inherited his blood?

The fist-sized fireball in my hand was proof. It had grown from baseball to fist-sized now.

"Did I just awaken as a Demon Hunter?"

Baseless confidence surged with a dopamine hit.

I wasn't sure I could whittle down a bear doll or mannequin to scraps, but a head ghost? Piece of cake…

Screeech. Screeech. Skree.

Now squeaking from behind. What fresh hell this time? I turned slowly toward the sound.

Try and scare me more.

I was adapting to the horror. A shape emerged from the fog, and my stomach twisted at the sight.

Fuck. Why is this woman in pieces?

A woman's lower half, severed below the navel. Smooth as if designed that way. Ass facing forward, strutting backward like an ostrich. Moving like a whole new creature.

Each step twisted its knee with a scree-geek.

Not just one or two.

Gonna take time to get used to this.

You could tell they were female from the pretty pussies. Overly plump, round asses. Each sway revealed pink slits between.

Vagina peeking from ass cheeks. Outer labia slightly parted like petals, dripping clear fluid from the tip.

Seeing these monsters triggered two reactions: arousal and terror.

"Nangryun would lose his shit."

If Nangryun were here, he'd yell "Free pussy!" and drop trou to pound away.

The lower-body monsters moved like a wolf pack.

Then one froze. Ass-forward, pussy-back. Its cheeks jiggled, anus gaping. Wrinkled hole lined with tiny, sharp teeth.

"Ugh… disgusting."

The "mouth" opened, sniffing side to side.

Then one found something and started munching chomp-chomp. Hair gave it away—my kicked Crawling Head.

One started, and asses swarmed, bumping and shoving to devour the corpse.

Movement at the edge of my vision.

Roll-roll-roll-roll.

Roll-roll-roll.

Crawling Heads rolling this way. Grotesque women's heads still gave me chills.

War between lower bodies and heads. Fog was demon world—food pyramid ecosystem.

Then one lower body brushed my leg. Shorts meant skin-on-skin. Terrifyingly soft and warm. Had to touch. Curiosity, y'know.

Plump ass sank under my fingers. Avoided the anus—might bite. Felt like real woman's skin. Slim legs, smooth. Delicate ankles, cute small feet.

The lower body wiggled its ass cutely, pink labia blooming wide.

You're a total flirt.

Bet Nangryun would've railed it. Guy's figurines were all grotesque monsters.

"But me? I judge by the face, not the pretty pussy."