Items of the Magic Workshop
While the world's madness boiled over around the two new icons of the Fox Mask and the Girl in the Carrier, the ruler of all that chaos was silently building his power within his magic workshop—his cold, quiet fortress.
There was a reason he insisted on staying in his Korean villa. The Eternal Nightmare had now become a global phenomenon, and Korea was no exception. It wasn't on the massive scale of the harpy incident, but small cracks were quietly opening every night throughout the city. People vanished one or two at a time without anyone noticing, and bizarre sightings that never appeared on CCTV circulated endlessly online—petty but persistent incidents.
To Jinwoo, they were perfect hunting grounds and sources of materials. Over the past few weeks, he had slipped into the city's shadows every night, perfectly concealing his presence, quietly hunting those lesser nightmares. His goal wasn't salvation. It was harvest alone. In this way, unbeknownst to anyone, he steadily gathered the materials to build his new kingdom.
And the result was that his magic workshop had transformed beyond compare.
The cramped, barren space of before was gone. The first thing that caught the eye was the small refrigerator that had hummed lowly in the corner—now replaced by a massive commercial stainless-steel unit. Opening its heavy door released a chill mist along with the spiritual pressure emanating from all manner of grotesque yet potent magical reagents.
Each shelf was meticulously organized. The top compartment held the hearts of various monsters, preserved in transparent containers, still faintly pulsing as if not fully dead. Below that, eyeballs extracted from unidentified creatures floated in special solutions, glaring this way in a variety of colors as if alive. Other shelves neatly labeled and stored rare minerals that emitted faint glows and bizarrely shaped herbs that made one's head spin just looking at them. The refrigerator was no longer a food storage unit but his personal morgue and treasure vault for the essences of life and death.
The old, creaky wooden desk was gone too. In its place stood a massive workbench of sturdy ebony and steel. Upon it lay crystals of unknown purpose, parchment scrolls engraved with ancient script, and an obsidian mortar still dusted with fine glowing powder from whatever it had just ground.
The workshop walls were now filled floor-to-ceiling with shelves and cabinets, no empty space in sight. Glass vials bubbled on their own with liquids of various colors, while dried monster hides and bones were neatly arranged above. The bookshelves held not only leather-bound tomes but also densely packed stone and metal tablets inscribed with incomprehensible characters he'd collected from nightmares.
The magic workshop was no longer a cramped, disorganized hideout. It was his fortress, utterly severed from the outside world—a refinery forging new power.
And there was a thoroughly pragmatic, cold reason for keeping this refinery—the source of his power—separate from the Yamashita estate, his temple of pleasure.
This place was like a scientist's laboratory. Labs were always dangerous. Potent magical reagents were ticking time bombs in themselves, and creation rituals always carried unpredictable side effects. But the greater danger came from outside.
He wasn't the only one who knew the value of the materials he'd amassed, besides himself and the Magic Grimoire. Other mages prowling the nightmares like him, government agencies coveting their power, and... the outer gods, seeking to reclaim their toys—the root of it all. The moment they discovered this magic workshop's location, it would become a target for every faction.
His bitches were precious possessions, but replaceable resources all the same. But this workshop was the foundation of his power, his sole arsenal against the world. Separating his sanctuary from his battlefield. It was the most basic strategy for survival.
Jinwoo gazed down at his perfect personal refinery, steeped in deep satisfaction. His eyes drifted to a monitor displaying Korean news coverage of the helicopter crash site. Watching flustered government officials and the anchor parroting the word terrorism like a myna bird, a gratifying smile curled his lips.
"Serves them right."
The nation that had discarded him, the massive system that had treated him as expendable—now trembling at the shadow of just one man. Their arrogant plan to lure him out using Kim Sea as bait had backfired catastrophically: one helicopter, elite agents' hospital bills, and global humiliation. No revenge could be sweeter.
[That Japanese bitch of yours turned out more useful than I thought.]
The Magic Grimoire's voice intruded on his thoughts. Rare praise colored its tone.
[I figured she was just a strong brute, but that commotion she caused draped in your mantle has skyrocketed your reputation beyond measure.]
[Now the mortals see you not as a mere monster hunter, but a transcendent being who crushes even national might. Fear soon turns to awe. The board is perfectly set.]
The Grimoire was right. But through this incident, he'd recognized a clear limitation—and glimpsed new possibilities.
My body is but one.
The Eternal Nightmare was erupting simultaneously worldwide. No matter how powerful he was or how he could traverse dimensions via gates, he couldn't respond to every scream. Nor did he intend to. He was no savior—he was a hunter and a businessman.
In that moment, a new plan began to take shape in his mind.
If I can't respond to every nightmare myself... then sell the means to respond.
His gaze swept the workshop brimming with materials. This was a repository of infinite potential. Using what he'd gathered, he could mass-produce items allowing even ordinary humans a minimal chance of survival in nightmares.
Jinwoo stepped to the workbench and began fleshing out his plan on the parchment.
◈ Pathfinder's Compass: A compass that faintly points to 'exits' or 'safe zones' amid the illogical spatial structures of nightmares. It detects minute spatial rifts unique to each nightmare, like the birch tree sighted by survivors in the harpy swamp.
◈ Loathsome Scent Pills: Pills that, when consumed, cause the body to emit a scent and taste monstrosities find utterly repulsive. Can't stop direct attacks, but prevents becoming the primary target for predatory horrors.
◈ Mental Fortitude Patch: A patch applied to the nape that alleviates extreme fear and mental trauma in nightmares. Prevents PTSD turning survivors into vegetables even after escape.
"Excellent."
He nodded in satisfaction at his plan. This wasn't mere charity. It was the perfect business model to maximize his fame, amass vast wealth, and wield influence over the world.
His primary customers were clear: Japan and the United States.
And deals shouldn't happen in anonymous shadows. Jinwoo planned to use proxies for official channels. That would build business credibility while shrouding his identity in deeper fog. Or, appearing personally in their hour of desperation to offer salvation would seize overwhelming negotiating leverage.
His objectives were manifold.
First, wealth accumulation. He'd exhausted his last gold bars crafting Chiharu's bow, so vast sums were needed for new magical items and workshop maintenance.
Second, establishing fame. Making the governments of Japan and the US official clients would elevate him from mysterious phenomenon to a surreal solution provider officially recognized by nations.
And finally, the most crucial: political pressure.
What if those governments bought his items and dramatically boosted their citizens' nightmare survival rates? The news couldn't stay secret. Then, the Korean government—the only one denied contact and even branded him an enemy—would face what position?
Its own citizens dying while allies traded with the mage for survival. The public outrage and pressure would be unimaginable. They would halt their foolish hostility, bow their heads like the others, and beg to buy his products.
He never struck his enemies directly. He merely maneuvered the board until they knelt of their own accord.
Jinwoo smiled, leaning deeply back in his chair.