The High Demon's Favor
"This way, please. I'd like to speak with you somewhere quiet."
Jagan led me down the corridor to a massive double door at the end. With a creak, the door swung open, and the mechanical clamor from outside vanished as if by magic.
A luxurious reception room greeted us: antique leather sofas, ornate furniture, and a plush Persian rug underfoot.
"Have a seat."
Jagan gestured to a spot and settled into the sofa opposite. With a snap of his fingers, a teapot and cups materialized in the air, descending gently onto the table. Glug-glug-glug. A deep crimson liquid filled the cups. Despite its blood-like hue, the aroma tickling my nose was unbelievably sweet and rich.
"Try some. It's a rare tea, even in the demon world."
I lifted the cup to my lips. The first sip spread a gentle warmth from my tongue down my throat. This wasn't just delicious tea—it soothed my weary soul with its profound flavor. A sigh of admiration escaped me before I could stop it.
"...The aroma is incredibly deep. I'm impressed."
"Glad it suits your taste."
Jagan smiled, looking pleased. "'Dew of the White Night,' they call it. Made from the nectar of a flower that blooms just once every hundred years in the depths of the demon world. Hard to come by, even if you have the money."
"...!"
My hand froze mid-sip. Once every hundred years? The tea suddenly felt like a lump of lead sliding down my throat.
Why is this demon going to such lengths?
It was overwhelming. What was the reason for treating a newbie merchant like me—here just to open a trade route—with hospitality fit for royalty? Suspicion crept in, but I kept my face neutral and set the cup down.
"This is too generous. Thank you."
"Not at all. You deserve it."
Jagan replied smoothly, gazing at me intently.
"By the way, I haven't asked your name."
"Han Suho."
"Han Suho... Han Suho. I'll remember that."
Jagan toyed with his cup, his voice turning serious.
"Mr. Han Suho, how much do you know about this world?"
"This world... You mean the demon world?"
"Yes. And its connection to the 'Earth' you humans live on."
I rolled my eyes briefly.
What's with the sudden exposition?
It came out of nowhere. But his gaze was earnest. Was this a test? Best to play it straight.
"Not much. Monsters are humanity's enemies, and dungeons are money-makers. That's about it."
"Haha, straightforward. Not wrong, either."
Jagan nodded with a wry smile. He gazed out the window at Montelli's sprawling skyline and spoke softly.
"The demon world exists for monsters alone. It was peaceful for a very long time."
His eyes drifted far away.
"Then problems arose. Monster populations started exploding exponentially. Resources are finite, but mouths kept multiplying. The world grew too small, hunger and war became constant. It reached total saturation."
His voice sank lower.
"At this rate, the demon world itself faced self-destruction. A countdown to annihilation had begun."
"So?"
"The archdemons made a decision: find new territory to house the surplus monsters."
Jagan turned slowly, fixing his eyes on me.
"That territory was your world: 'Earth.'"
His pupils held no guilt, no malice—just facts.
"The archdemons opened dimensional gates, sending excess forces to Earth. That's what you call the 'dungeon outbreaks.'"
Monsters invading Earth not out of destructive instinct, but for survival migration. It echoed imperial history—empires seeking colonies amid population booms.
"Of course, it caused massive casualties for humans. No warning, just slaughter."
Jagan continued matter-of-factly.
"That's when the 'divine realm' intervened. They didn't want their domain—Earth—ruined. So they granted ordinary humans the power to fight monsters. That's 'awakening.'"
"...I see."
"In the end, this war is between those stealing land to survive and those fighting back to survive."
His explanation wrapped up. I stared into my reflection in the tea.
A survival contest...
It made sense. No grand clash of good and evil. Monsters weren't malicious invaders; they were refugees and conquerors driven by desperation. Humans were the natives resisting.
Doesn't concern me anyway.
World-shaking truths were just backstory for someone like me, who might die tomorrow. One thing mattered: as long as the war raged, my goods would sell.
"Of course, it's not just migration."
Jagan set his cup down and continued.
"Our ultimate goal was stabilizing the demon world. So we sent countless dungeons."
"..."
"It wasn't easy. Those noble, repulsive gods empowered humans, so monsters kept getting culled."
He spat "gods" with undisguised disgust but soon shrugged calmly.
"But we didn't lose everything."
"Didn't lose? With troops dying nonstop?"
"Two gains."
Jagan held up two fingers.
"First, population control. By driving saturated monsters to the front lines, we eased the demon world's burden."
"..."
"Second, energy restoration. Resentment, fear, despair blooming on the battlefield... Those negative emotions are prime nourishment for the demon world. It's slowly mending what was on the brink of collapse."
A chill ran down my spine.
They planned to turn Earth into a colony.
To them, Earth was a colony, a dumping ground, an emotional battery charger. Dead monsters trimmed population—good. Dead humans generated energy—good. Win-win for the demon world, no matter what. Chillingly efficient and cruel.
"But we can't just throw our young into the meat grinder, right?"
Jagan gestured to the vast city outside.
"That's why we built Montelli. To circulate war supplies to weaker monsters, stimulate the economy. At least they won't starve without a fight in them."
He paused, fiddling with his cup and staring at me.
"But lately, an irritating variable appeared."
"Variable?"
"About 1,000 years ago... 'Heteromorphs' started appearing in the demon world."
"Heteromorphs..."
"Fairy tales, myths, urban legends—fictions that shouldn't exist, manifesting physical bodies."
His eyes sharpened.
"We dismissed it at first. Rare occurrences—one or two per decade. But..."
Tap. He rapped the table lightly.
"Exactly two days ago, their numbers exploded."
"...!"
"Like someone flung open a dam. Unprecedented ghost stories observed across the demon world and Earth."
Jagan leaned forward. His yellow eyes bored into my soul.
"Mr. Han Suho. You're a merchant who specializes in selling 'ghost stories,' right?"
"...Yes."
"Any guesses about this phenomenon?"
The question hit like a punch. I swallowed hard.
He's suspicious.
This wasn't casual curiosity. He was convinced I knew the cause.
Two days ago.
The day I died under that truck—and awoke as a ghost story merchant. My revival matched the ghost story surge perfectly.
Coincidence?
No way. I was the trigger. But confessing to this demon? I'd end up dissected in a lab or imprisoned forever.
So I shared a truth-adjacent fact.
"No idea. It's puzzling to me too."
"You truly don't know?"
"Yeah. I don't deal in grand schemes. I just gained the ability to collect ghost stories conditionally and sell them to those who need them. That's it."
I shrugged.
"The sudden influx is great for business... but I don't know the 'why' behind it."
"..."
Jagan stared silently. His eyes narrowed. A sticky, probing gaze. The silence stretched like a year.
His mouth opened slowly.
"No lies."
"..."
"Relax. My eyes distinguish truth from falsehood."
He pointed to his yellow pupils.
"What you said appears purely true in my sight. No trace of deceit. You really are just the merchant you claim."
...I lived.
I exhaled inwardly in relief. It was true, after all. I suspected I was the cause but didn't know the exact mechanism. Slipping by on truth alone worked.
"But ignorance doesn't diminish your value."
Jagan leaned back, smiling.
"The ability to collect and sell Heteromorphs—priceless. The Demon Realm Merchantry rates it highly."
He pulled two items from his robes and placed them on the table. A black envelope far more luxurious than the last. And a gold card.
"What are these?"
"Proof of goodwill."
He slid the envelope over.
"Official pass inside. No more tearing temporary ones—you can come and go from Montelli freely."
"And the card?"
"Lifetime auction house membership. VIP status."
"...!"
"Not just regular auctions—the annual 'grand auction' too. Fee waived."
An outrageous offer. Lifetime access, no fees? Invaluable benefits.
"Why go this far? High praise for my abilities doesn't quite explain it."
Jagan's eyes curved into crescents as he chuckled.
"Sell a lot."
"...Pardon?"
"Sell those 'ghost stories' of yours to the monsters visiting Montelli. Bring more chaos to the human world."
His voice dropped, intimate and low.
"The more ghost stories spread, the more humans tremble and scream... the faster our demon world recovers. You make money, we gain energy. Perfect symbiosis, no?"
This mad demon. Goosebumps prickled my skin. Casually dooming the world like a blessing. Human screams as energy drinks. Demons gonna demon.
Terrifying.
I wanted to bolt yelling, "I'm a pacifist!" But I couldn't. Refusing that gentle smile felt like inviting a beheading.
I nodded calmly.
"Sounds good. No merchant turns that down."
I pocketed the items without hesitation. Jagan nodded approvingly.
"Wise choice. We'll make great partners."
He stood, offering a handshake.
"Oh, one request."
"Yes?"
"If you acquire a truly powerful, rare ghost story..."
He grasped my hand softly.
"Consider selling to our association first. We'll pay handsomely."
"Of course. Gotta honor the gifts."
"I trust you, Mr. Han Suho."
We shook briefly, and I pulled away.
"I'll head out then. Business calls."
"Safe travels. No escort."
I left his polite bow behind and exited the reception room. Creak, thud. The heavy door sealed shut, and I finally exhaled.
"Hoo..."
My legs nearly buckled, but I held steady. My back was soaked in cold sweat. A short chat, and it shaved years off my life.
Never coming back.
But eyeing the gold card and black envelope, my resolve crumbled in a second.
...Nah, I'll return when cash runs low.
The plight of the small-time merchant.
Creak, thud. The heavy door sealed, silence returning to the reception room.
Jagan leaned deep into the sofa. The smile faded from his lips.
"...An enigma."
He sipped the remaining red tea. Ordinary humans—or most monsters—bared their souls before him: fear, greed, lies, arrogance. All transparent.
But that man who just left, Han Suho, was different.
Can't read him.
He spoke truth—no signs of deceit. Yet peering deeper into the abyss... a fog blocked his view.
Whatever lurked in that man's depths, whatever monster slumbered there—he couldn't fathom it.
"That's why I couldn't act rashly."
Jagan murmured, setting down his cup. Not mere greed for his wares. His instincts warned him.
A demon's intuition, honed over millennia, whispered:
-Don't make an enemy of him.
Reason unknown. But touching that frail-looking human promised a price too steep to pay. A chill of foreboding.
The pressure that tensed even a high demon. That was the true reason for his utmost courtesy.
"Kukuku..."
Suddenly, Jagan's shoulders shook. He covered his face with one hand, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling up.
"A human... a human..."
Han Suho's face flashed—calm, brazen, insisting he was just a normal human merchant.
That nonchalant audacity was unbearably amusing.
"Reeking of those repulsive 'Heteromorphs' from every pore, yet convinced he's thoroughly human."
No monster more dangerous—or intriguing—than one oblivious to its own nature.
"Fun. This'll be fun."
Jagan smirked at the empty cup, lips curling wickedly.
"Looking forward to it, Mr. Han Suho."
No.
"Whatever wears that human skin... the calamity it'll unleash on this world."