Chapter 125
Chapter 125
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Shop
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The Cartel shop resembled a hotel lobby overall. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, scattering light around, while red carpets and drapes embroidered with golden threads adorned the floor and walls in lavish display. Neatly dressed staff in suits walked about on top of them.
They weren't like the tentacled door guards on their heads. These were ordinary humans flashing welcoming business smiles. They attended to guests strolling through the lobby, then slowly approached Ian and Lee Seo-ah.
"Welcome. Miss Lee Seo-ah. Mr. Shin Ian. We've prepared chocolate biscuits as welcome snacks—something simple to munch on. Is that alright?"
"Fine by me. The market layout's still the same, right?"
"Yes. Though they've added an arena at the end of the third basement level, so feel free to drop by if you're bored."
"Arena?"
Ian reacted. The staff member, who had been smiling amiably, nodded as he handed over a paper box of biscuits.
"It's where captured anomalies from commissions are pitted against each other. We had some trouble with colosseum ghost stories attaching during construction, but we've overcome that now."
"...That's a peculiar place. Does it make money?"
"Of course it does. It's a betting system where you wager on winners and losers, so plenty of customers come by."
"Ah, gambling."
"A sacred system. Swing by if you're interested."
With that, the staff member slowly withdrew. Ian glanced down at the biscuits in his hand, then carefully picked one up and chewed it. The sweet-yet-bitter chocolate flavor lingered on his tongue before fading away.
"Anywhere you wanna hit first? Or should we split up from here?"
Lee Seo-ah asked, holding a biscuit. Ian pondered briefly before answering.
"Let's split. We're after different stuff anyway."
Lee Seo-ah's main magic was necromancy. Specifically, ritual magic that used human bone dust as a medium. Aside from summoning something, her category didn't overlap with Ian's at all. They were bound to prefer different products.
Even their summoning differed vastly in cost-efficiency. To call a powerful evil spirit required heaps of bone dust, blood, a jar infused with yin energy, and a corpse from an accidental death.
In contrast, all Ian needed for a powerful predator was a few chunks of flesh and blood.
Of course, both risked getting torn apart by the summon if things went wrong. The difference was whether it was prepaid or postpaid.
Anyway.
There was zero overlap between what Lee Seo-ah wanted to buy and what Ian was seeking. Better to split up and hunt their own targets than waste time together.
"Meet back here in an hour. Contact if you need more time."
Ian said, waving his phone. Lee Seo-ah nodded and took a bite of her biscuit.
"Got it. You do the same if you finish early."
"Will do."
Ian gave her a faint smile and headed off, checking the map on the wall.
The Cartel market consisted of the first basement level with the lobby and various shops, the second with weapons, and the third with the arena. Ian decided to browse the first floor first.
'Hand of Recreation might as well be sealed for the time being, so better stock up on flesh while I can.'
Thanks to the recreation spell in his grimoire, he'd never lacked materials before, but now magic use was limited. He had enough stored, but the spell guzzled flesh, so buying more made sense.
The prices made him wince, sure, but what could he do? Saving the world had its perks—or at least, this was a steal by comparison.
With that in mind, Ian stepped into a suitable shop. Wooden interior, neatly displaying processed anomaly byproducts. Some reeked, others gave off sweet scents.
"Well, lookie here—a customer."
The shopkeeper was a frail-looking old woman. She rose from her rocking chair, swaying front to back, upon spotting Ian.
"Come on in. Looking for anything specific?"
"Nothing in particular. Just grabbing a few cheap ones."
"Is that right? Let me recommend some then."
The old woman chuckled softly, leaning on her staff as she came out from behind the counter. The peach wood staff emanated a rich peach aroma.
"This here's an eyeball from a Candy Giant. Sweet taste when eaten—popular item. And this is a cannibal ghost's heart. Not recommending eating it, but great as material."
"Prices?"
"Five million each for the eye, six for the heart. Buying?"
Ridiculous prices. But way cheaper than the Cartel online app store. Ian hesitated, sighed deeply, then nodded.
"Add some similar-priced stuff to make ten total."
"Oho! Big spender, eh? Hold on. I'll pack 'em up quick."
The shopkeeper grinned happily, gathering processed goods from the display. Ian watched, fiddling with cigarettes in his coat pocket.
'Missing 'em makes it itch more...'
He used to gather materials via commissions, but not now. Thank god for the cash, or he'd be hemorrhaging money in agony.
He knew it was unavoidable, but that didn't stop the irritation. Ian ruffled his hair and tapped his cigarette pack.
Moments later, the shopkeeper bagged the goods.
"Here ya go. Throwing in a discount—fifty million flat."
"..."
Ian silently slid his card over. The old woman snickered, snatched it, and swiped without hesitation.
The familiar chime rang out as she handed the card back.
"Thanks much! Come again!"
"...Yeah. Sell a ton."
Hah.
Ian sighed for the umpteenth time, stuffing the bag away.
The Deep Sea Chronicles, waiting patiently, twitched—maybe smelling blood. He patted its cover lightly, then wandered the halls toward the smoking area.
That's when a shop caught his eye.
A garish sign stood at the entrance. Any smoker would stop—Ian did, mesmerized, pushing the door open. Ding-a-ling.
"Welcome!"
The woman at the counter greeted him warmly. Ian scanned the shop as he approached.
It brimmed with tobacco: everyday smokes, exotic foreign ones he'd never seen, cigars piled in glass cases. He eyed a red-tinged cigarette intently, then turned to her.
"Tobacco specialty shop?"
"Yes! We carry every cigarette in the world!"
"Where's the new stuff?"
"Right here!"
She pointed to pristine white sticks behind the counter.
They looked utterly ordinary.
"From the Clock Tower."
As Ian examined it closely, she sidled up with an explanation.
"The Alchemist school—experts in alchemy? They make and distribute these."
"..."
"Tons of flavors: plum, apple, lemon, mint, you name it. Even sewer stench for weird tastes!"
"No, pass on that."
Ian shut it down instantly. She laughed awkwardly, scratching her head.
"Right? A handsome guy like you wouldn't go for filth flavors!"
"Skip the flattery. Magic-made means special effects, right?"
"Duh, obviously. It's a cigarette... but not really."
She rubbed her hands with a sly grin.
"Made for quitting smoking, no less."
"...Quitting?"
"Yup! Strips out all toxins, cleans your lungs with the smoke—a dream indulgence! And it kills every withdrawal symptom from not smoking."
"For real?"
Ian asked, genuinely shocked. She beamed and nodded.
"Totally! One catch, though—not zero side effects. Smoke once, and you gotta every week. No biggie for chain smokers, right?"
"...Fair. What happens if you skip?"
"Lungs rot. That's it."
She added that fully purified lungs meant no side effects either. Ian nodded in awe.
Risk was negligible compared to benefits.
Lung rot a big deal? Nah.
Regular smokes rot lungs anyway.
Practically risk-free, effects top-tier. Passing this up would be idiotic.
'Home cooking and workouts for health? Pointless if one smoke fixes it all. Time to quit for real.'
He'd never sworn off before, but why pass up this chance? He turned to her excitedly.
"How much?"
"One hundred million for sixty!"
"...Pardon?"
Ian's face iced over. She tilted her head with a smile.
"One hundred million!"
"..."
"Wanna sample one?"
"...Just one."
He lit up.
"...Ah."
That day, one hundred million vanished from his account.