I Thought He Was a Con Artist
Screeech— The bright red sports car driven by Seo Jian came to a smooth halt in front of the hotel's main entrance.
"Well, we have arrived," she said.
Beyond the scissor door that swung upward, a massive building came into view.
...Wow. It's absolutely massive.
It was a top-tier five-star hotel, renowned even within the heart of Seoul. Having spent the last ten years cooped up in my room doing nothing but playing games, a place like this was a first for me.
As I hesitated, Jian stepped out of the driver's seat and smoothly handed the car keys to a valet in a crisp uniform.
"Take good care of her~"
"Of course, ma'am. Have a wonderful time."
She was incredibly natural at this.
"Shall we go, Dohyun-nim?"
The moment I stepped into a compartment of the revolving door, spun through, and took a step inside—
"..."
A colossal chandelier dominated the ceiling. Soft classical music drifted from somewhere. A massive abstract painting took up an entire wall. Staff members dressed in sharp suits bowed ninety degrees to greet us.
"Welcome."
So this is what a five-star hotel is like.
I nodded back reflexively, awkwardly looking around as I walked further inside.
As someone brushed past me, my hand instinctively drifted toward the Suppressor hidden beneath my clothes.
Didn't they say ordinary people are affected by spiritual power? Well, since this thing was perfectly masking my spiritual energy, I would look like nothing more than an ordinary young man to everyone else.
Just then, a man in a neat suit approached us from one side of the lobby.
"I have been expecting you, Seo Jian-nim."
"Hello. This is the artisan from the Cheonsan Sect I mentioned, Artisan Do."
Jian handed him a business card as she introduced me. The man was apparently the executive secretary to a director of the TK Group. He took the card and was about to bow to me, but paused for a split second.
Hm?
The secretary's eyes trembled slightly upon seeing my face. He seemed flustered by how young I looked compared to the grand title of "artisan." However, as expected of a secretary for a major conglomerate, he quickly wiped the expression from his face and bowed politely.
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I will guide you inside."
We followed him deep into the hotel, heading toward the kitchen of a private restaurant. Before long, we arrived.
"...Is it still not resolved?" the secretary asked in a low voice, looking toward the interior.
Another attendant standing ahead mumbled with an embarrassed expression. "Well, that is..."
The attendant looked away awkwardly and spoke. "It's been going on for weeks now, but we just can't seem to find the cause..."
"Look, I told you there's nothing there."
The interruption came from an unexpected direction. Turning my head, I spotted a man wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. Leaning crookedly against a chair with his weight shifted to one leg, he looked like some punk who had wandered out of a club.
"I've been searching this place for three whole days, and absolutely nothing has turned up. She's probably just suffering from insomnia."
The man snorted at the attendant.
"People in the culinary industry get that a lot. They're under so much stress that they start seeing things. Anyway, I'm positive there's nothing here. I checked everything myself."
...What's with this atmosphere?
The secretary didn't bother dealing with the punk-like man any further.
"...I apologize for showing you such an unsightly scene. Please, follow me this way."
After offering us a brief apology, he led us deeper into the kitchen. Standing there was a woman dressed in a white chef's uniform.
"This is Kim Hyeyun-nim, the head chef of our restaurant. And this is Artisan Do, who will be crafting your chef's knife."
"...Hello."
The woman bowed awkwardly.
...She looks terrible.
Her face was completely pale, with dark circles hanging heavily under her eyes. It was obvious she hadn't slept in days. Moreover, the way she kept wrapping her hands around her own arms made her look incredibly anxious.
I gave a light nod to acknowledge her greeting. Just then, the secretary's phone rang.
"Yes. They have arrived. Yes... Yes, understood."
Hanging up, he turned to Jian. "Jian-nim. I apologize, but could you come with me for a moment? The director wishes to see you."
"...Ah? Oh, yes." Jian turned to me. "Dohyun-nim, I'll be back in a bit. Please feel free to discuss the details while I'm gone."
The door closed.
"...Well, then."
"Ah, yes...!"
Chef Kim Hyeyun swallowed hard, then carefully placed a knife case on the table. Unlocking the leather case, she slowly drew out the knife inside.
"...I was hoping you could make something like this."
I took the knife she offered. A Western-style chef's knife.
The blade was about eight inches long. It featured a full-tang construction with a G10 composite handle. The balance was decent, but the blade was slightly too thick. For a chef with a smaller build, using this for extended periods would inevitably strain her wrist.
I glanced around the kitchen. They said it was a Western restaurant.
"What kind of ingredients do you primarily work with?"
"Ah... prepping meat is the most common, but I also prep vegetables quite often."
"Could you show me your cutting technique?"
"L-like this?"
The chef placed a green onion on the cutting board and began to chop. *Tap, tap, tap—*
...Hm.
Her posture itself was flawless. As expected of someone from a prestigious Michelin-starred background, her wrist angles and blade tip control were impeccable. The problem lay elsewhere.
Every time the knife came down, the tension in her shoulder wavered slightly. Though she didn't seem to realize it herself, her wrist was trembling faintly. At this rate, even if she felt fine normally, prolonged use would definitely damage her ligaments.
...I need to make the knife lighter.
Shaving about 0.5 millimeters off the blade thickness and shifting the handle's center of gravity slightly toward the blade would drastically reduce the strain on her wrist. However, I couldn't compromise on the blade's durability. Even if it was just a kitchen knife, it was still a tool the head chef of a fine-dining restaurant would grip every single day.
I'll use a high-carbon steel alloy...
And if I mix in a bit of an alloy with high spiritual affinity...
...Yes, this should do.
The blueprint formed in my mind all at once. Since her hands were small, I'd reduce the handle size by one notch. And since she applied extra pressure with her index finger, I'd carve out a slight groove on that side of the grip so her finger could rest naturally. Having sorted that out, I looked up.
...By the way.
I turned my gaze back to the chef. She was suffering from extreme fatigue due to sleep deprivation. Because of that, her muscles were knotted and her physical balance was completely off. If she kept gripping a heavy knife in that state, her wrist ligaments wouldn't last.
And then there was that guy outside... Suddenly remembering the man from earlier, I glanced in his direction. Sitting with his legs crossed, he seemed to be glaring at me for some reason.
He was a spiritualist, right?
Although my Suppressor masked my spiritual energy, it seemed it didn't completely block my spiritual sight. That guy over there wasn't hiding his spiritual energy at all—either he hadn't brought a suppressor, or he normally released it while working. Something was definitely going on.
"You haven't been sleeping well lately, have you?"
"Ah... yes, haha. I guess it's that obvious. I've been having some nightmares lately..."
Her grip tightened on her arms. Her eyes were bloodshot, too. It didn't seem like she was just having simple nightmares... Just then, something anomalous caught my eye.
What is that?
Over the chef's shoulder, near the ceiling, a faint black haze was shimmering. It stretched like a thin thread toward a large exhaust fan in the corner of the kitchen. As my eyes followed it, Seo Jian, who had gone outside, returned with hurried steps. Her face was stiff.
"Excuse me for a moment. Dohyun-nim, could we step aside for a quick chat?"
"Ah, yes." I turned to the chef and politely excused myself. "I'll be right back."
"Oh, yes. Take your time."
I followed her with quick steps.
"Dohyun-nim... we have a problem."
"What's the matter?"
Seo Jian glanced around and lowered her voice as much as possible.
"The client is the TK Group, but this commission... they didn't call us just to craft a knife. It was because of a cursed spirit."
"What do you mean by..."
"I just confirmed this with one of my informants. Apparently, the TK Group recently had a clash with a branch family of one of the four great noble clans. They completely ignored the spiritualists' warnings regarding a redevelopment site and pushed ahead with construction."
To summarize Jian's explanation: the TK Group had thoroughly offended that clan, making them a pariah in the entire spiritual world, as other spiritualists feared retaliation from the major clans.
Consequently, even though this restaurant's chef was suffering from mysterious supernatural harassment, no proper spiritualist dared to set foot here.
"When they called for a VIP meeting, I followed them in, and they asked if we could also perform an exorcism... It seems they called us knowing we have ties to the spiritual world."
She bit her lip apologetically.
"I'm so sorry, Dohyun-nim. I should have done a more thorough background check beforehand... You can absolutely refuse. They called us without any prior notice, probably because they feared we wouldn't come if they told the truth.
Since you're just making your debut, there's really no reason to get tangled up with the four great clans."
...Hm.
I understood everything she said. But honestly, it didn't seem like a big deal. Just in case, I had brought a few sheets of Yellow Talisman Paper for self-defense anyway. Couldn't I just get rid of whatever was there and craft the knife?
Besides, I had already seen that bizarre thing behind the exhaust fan. The pale face of the chef, her dark circles, her trembling fingers wrapping around her arms, her anxious expression... If I hadn't seen it, that would be one thing, but leaving now after coming all this way felt a bit...
"Jian-ssi. Let me ask you one thing."
"Yes?"
"Since I'm currently affiliated with the Cheonsan Sect, no one can touch me, right?"
Wasn't that identity created precisely so I wouldn't have to worry about those clans? Besides, as long as I kept doing this work, getting entangled with clans was bound to happen eventually. There was no reason to avoid it now.
"Yes...? Well, that is true, but..." Jian hesitated.
"I'll just do it. It's just crafting a knife, after all."
"..."
I had said it without much thought. I had come all this way, so I might as well collect my five million won. But for some reason, Jian's expression stiffened. After staring up at my face for a long moment, her expression brightened up as radiantly as ever.
"Of course. Someone of your caliber, Dohyun-nim... wouldn't be swayed by something like this. I worried for nothing."
She shrugged, a meaningful smile playing on her lips.
...Here she goes again.
She had clearly misunderstood something, but correcting her was too much of a hassle, so I just kept my mouth shut.
Meanwhile, Jin Muyeong bit his lip in irritation. He was a spiritualist who had recently risen to the 3rd Class. A 3rd Class ranking was enough to be considered a battle-hardened veteran in this industry. He had heard plenty about how this conglomerate was thoroughly blacklisted by the major clans.
But he didn't care. He himself had been practically kicked out of his clan and forced to go independent. If anything, he saw this as a perfect opportunity. Screw those clan bastards who threw me out. Smelling money, he had slithered in, planning to make a fortune.
Yet, even after combing through the kitchen with a fine-tooth comb for three whole days, he couldn't find so much as a trace of a specter. He had assumed the chef was under some sort of curse, but no matter how much he investigated, he couldn't see anything, let alone find a single clue.
His pride was beginning to hurt, and irritation flared up. At this point, it really seemed like there was nothing here.
Damn it, a wasted trip.
Just as he was about to pack his bags, he noticed a newcomer whispering with some broker in a corner of the kitchen.
Another spiritualist?
He wasn't the first spiritualist to pass through here. Because the TK Group was blacklisted, the only ones who came of their own accord were empty husks. They, too, had tucked their tails and run, claiming they couldn't find anything.
Clearly, the client hadn't believed him when he said there was nothing here and had called in yet another spiritualist.
...How annoying.
Who was he? He was a veteran spiritualist who had just reached 3rd Class. Among freelancers, 3rd Class spiritualists were quite rare. He wasn't at a level where he should be treated with such disrespect. He subtly extended his senses to gauge the newcomer.
...
He couldn't read a thing. He felt a faint trace of spiritual energy, but that was it.
What? The guy barely has a drop of spiritual energy.
He wasn't completely devoid of spiritual energy, but this level was common enough to trip over on the street. It was just the level of someone with a slightly strong presence or decent intuition. A smirk played on his lips.
Some rookie broker must have brought in an empty shell with no spiritual power to pull off a scam.
That was his only thought. He turned away without any lingering attachment.
"Anyway, I've done my part," he spat at the attendant standing before him. "Just so you know, the down payment can't be refunded under our regulations."
Just as he was about to leave—
"Ah... so you were hiding here after all. Just a moment. This will be over quickly."
Muyeong reflexively looked back. The fraud from earlier was staring quietly at a corner of the ceiling. Then, he fumbled inside his coat and pulled out a sheet of yellow paper. It was Yellow Talisman Paper.
Look at this guy. He's actually pulling out a talisman?
The spiritualist snorted inwardly. How was he planning to catch a cursed spirit that didn't even exist? There was a limit to bluffing. But something was strange. The guy hadn't pulled out a brush, nor had he retrieved any Cinnabar.
Furthermore, the Yellow Talisman Paper in his hand was completely blank, obvious even from a distance. Did he not even know how a talisman was made?
Muyeong let out a hollow laugh. Well, he decided to watch for a moment. Seeing a shameless imposter awkwardly acting like a spiritualist was bound to be entertaining in its own way.
The young man approached the kitchen exhaust fan. He stared blankly at something for a moment, then raised his arm toward the empty air. With a sudden, sharp flick of his wrist—
Rumble—! The exhaust fan's grill began to shake violently, as if it were about to burst.
"What the fuck?"
He had been sure the guy was a fraud. But black smoke was surging out. There was no mistake. This was cursed energy. And it was of an immense caliber.
[KREEEEEEEEEECH—!!]
Immediately after, with a deafening roar, pitch-black cursed spirits began to pour out.
"...!!"
W-what the fuck is happening?!
Muyeong's face turned deathly pale. He hadn't seen anything this whole time? After searching for three days? It made no sense. If that level of spiritual energy had been trapped inside the exhaust fan, there was no way he wouldn't have noticed.
And it wasn't just one or two. Dozens of cursed spirits were shattering the exhaust grill, pouring down like a black deluge.
Muyeong hurriedly reached for the spiritual tool in his coat. But—
H-how am I supposed to deal with those...!
These cursed spirits were already far beyond his ability to handle. They were at least... 2nd Class. No, even if a 2nd Class spiritualist were here, there would be no guarantees. As his mind went completely blank, torn between running or fighting, the young man did something.
Without even using a brush, the young man pressed his bare finger against the Yellow Talisman Paper in his hand. And then—
Sizzle— Faint smoke rose from the Yellow Talisman Paper, and dark red patterns began to engrave themselves onto the blank sheet of paper all on their own.
...W-what on earth is that?
A spell formula was being engraved onto a paper that a brush hadn't even touched. The young man lightly tossed the newly inscribed talisman toward the cascading swarm of cursed spirits. The talisman reached the exhaust fan. In that instant—
FLASH—!! A blinding flash of light erupted, as if the sun itself had been brought down into the room.
[KREEEEEEE—!] Dozens of cursed spirits disintegrated into ash and vanished in an instant, unable to even let out a proper scream.
"..."
...Who the hell is this guy?!!!
...Well, this should be enough.
I looked up at the exhaust fan once more. The black haze had vanished without a trace. I dusted off my hands.
There were more of them than I expected, but since a single talisman had done the trick, it really wasn't a big deal. I had worried for a second that it wouldn't be enough.
Behind me, that punk spiritualist seemed to be staring at me as if he had just seen a ghost.
...Well, whatever.
I simply turned back toward the chef. Time to get back to making the knife.