The Ghost Story Usage Rights
With the auctioneer's shout of sale, the cover was lifted.
"......?"
"......"
Silence fell in an instant.
What lay on the cushion was a single scrap of paper.
It didn't even carry the faintest trace of mana—just the texture of cheap memo paper from some corner stationery shop. Even the auctioneer faltered for a moment, his eyes wavering.
"Ahem! Here we have our first special item!"
But he was a pro. Clearing his throat once, he launched into a dazzling pitch as if the hesitation had never happened.
"To describe this: origin unknown! Creator unknown! An enigmatic item that even our appraisers couldn't identify— the Ghost Story Usage Rights!"
"......"
"This paper holds an unknown power! Its exact effects... well, regrettably, remain undisclosed! But befitting a special auction, it might just grant the user's deepest wish—a truly mysterious artifact! Come now, adventurers of the demon world! Bet on the allure of the unknown!"
Despite the auctioneer's desperate cries, the crowd's reaction was ice-cold.
"What? Paper?"
"You kidding? No mana signature at all. Just a scrap of tissue?"
Murmurs erupted here and there.
The greater the expectations, the deeper the disappointment.
"The Demon Realm Merchantry must be losing it. Putting trash like that in a special auction."
"Ghost Story Usage Rights? 'Usage rights' means you don't even own it?"
"Like, use it once and give it back? What a joke."
The chill in the air was enough to freeze everything solid.
Mandy, sitting beside me, fidgeted and tugged at my sleeve.
"Suho, the vibe's totally dead. No one's gonna bid at this rate."
"Can't be helped."
I replied flatly.
"Anyone can see it's a shady scrap of paper."
"How can you say that like it's someone else's problem! If this doesn't sell...!"
Mandy stomped his feet, but I calmly kept my eyes on the stage.
Of course, I wasn't entirely at ease inside.
If only I could manifest a ghost story right here in the auction house instead of a dungeon.
If that were possible, those sneering bastards would shut up and open their wallets.
But as it was, just mana-less paper, it looked like garbage—naturally.
It was a gamble from the start anyway.
Big win if it sells, no loss if it doesn't. I emptied my mind and crossed my arms.
"Alright, starting bid: 1,000 gold! We begin at 1,000 gold!"
The auctioneer called out, sweat beading on his brow, but silence was his only reply.
"......"
"......"
No one raised a hand. The auctioneer's mouth twitched harder.
"Uh... no takers? It's a special item, folks? Really, no one?"
Dead quiet.
"W-well then... with no further bids, we'll—"
"1,000 gold!"
A thin, trembling voice shattered the hush.
"Oh!"
The auctioneer's eyes lit up. All gazes converged on one spot.
There stood Serria, paddle raised with shaking hands.
"She's nuts. Buying that?"
"Doesn't know the value of money. What does she even think it is?"
Jeers poured in from all sides.
Serria bowed her head in shame but kept her paddle aloft.
I glanced at Jeon. Would that scum interfere again?
But Jeon just propped his chin, yawning boredly. He looked more amused watching her waste money on junk.
"1,000 gold bid! Any advances? No? Sold to the bidder for 1,000 gold!"
Bang!
The gavel fell with a crisp crack, sealing the deal.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief and looked at Serria.
...She's really desperate, huh.
Burning 1,000 gold on something so uncertain. Like a drowning man grasping at straws.
Lucky break.
Blinded by the 'special auction' sign, eh?
Snagged a good mark.
Yeah, boss. I nodded inwardly.
This wasn't outright ownership. Just 'usage rights'—lending out a one-time use. Pretty juicy rental income, if I do say so.
I quickly tapped out the math in my head.
1,000 gold equals about 1,000 hours.
Roughly 41 days. A full month plus ten days straight into my account.
I'm saved.
Finally, I could breathe a little easier.
"Congrats! It's yours!"
Mandy whooped, though his face wasn't all sunshine.
"But... is that thing really okay?"
"What?"
"I mean, if the princess buys it and it does nothing... won't she come after you later? I'm kinda worried."
Even Mandy wasn't sold.
A sudden doubt hit me. This was the demon world, after all—did they really dismiss ghost stories this hard?
"Hey, Mandy."
"Yeah?"
"You know what a ghost story is?"
"Ghost story? What's that? Short for weird blanket or something?"
Mandy tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.
"Then, what about Heteromorphs?"
"Oh, those creepy bastards? Yeah, I know 'em. Weird freaks that pop up sometimes. Heard they're just dangerous types."
Ah. It clicked.
They know the shell—Heteromorphs—but not the core: the stories that spawn them, ghost stories.
No wonder 'Ghost Story Usage Rights' meant nothing to them.
Minor genres get no love anywhere, huh.
I tsked inwardly when a low voice rumbled in my ear.
They see only the shell, blind to the essence.
That ignorance will bite them someday.
Boss, you feeling scratched there?
......
Mad 'cause your field got dissed?
......
No reply. Normally he'd rattle off facts to poke at my psyche, but this silence screamed I'd hit the mark.
Ha. Feels good.
Always getting fact-slammed over my lifespan—petty revenge felt like sweet stress relief.
As I smirked, the auctioneer's voice boomed again.
"Next up for our special auction! The following items!"
Staff wheeled in carts lined with materials, each radiating extraordinary auras.
"Millennia-aged dragon heart shards!"
"Life sap harvested from the World Tree's branch!"
"Ink sac from the deep-sea overlord, the Kraken!"
Each reveal drew helpless chuckles from me.
...All S-rank.
Stuff you couldn't even glimpse in the human world—national secrets on legs—scattered like common goods.
Worth befitting a gathering of demon world's elite.
As the parade of S-rank treasures wound down...
"You've waited long enough!"
The auctioneer grabbed the mic, face flushed with excitement.
"The grand finale of today's mega auction! Behold a legendary weapon!"
With majestic drum rolls, a central lift rose slowly. Red cloth pulled back to reveal a sword embedded in a transparent crystal case.
A blade sheathed in frost-blue chill, no frills—just ruthless utility for cutting, a brutal long sword built for battle.
"The human world's slayer! The cherished blade of a notorious hunter who butchered countless monsters!"
The moment I saw it, my breath caught.
Familiar. All too familiar.
That's the magic sword Sword Ghost used!
Just a month ago, China's S-rank hunter Wang Wei died conquering an S-rank dungeon. His body was recovered, but his prized sword vanished, leaving it an unsolved case.
Who knew it'd surface here.
"Starting bid: 50,000 gold!"
"100,000 gold!"
"150,000!"
"Outta the way! 200,000 gold!"
The hall erupted into chaos.
An S-rank hunter's signature weapon—proven S-grade. Demon rich folk with cash to burn went feral, naturally.
Bids skyrocketed.
"220,000! We've got 220,000!"
"240,000!"
"250,000 gold!"
After a breathless frenzy, a girl in a flashy red dress from VIP raised her paddle.
"302,000 gold."
The overwhelming sum silenced the room like a bucket of ice water.
"302,000 gold! Sold! Congratulations!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I stared blankly at the digital display.
302,000 gold...
How much lifespan was that?
About 12,000 days.
Roughly 34 years.
...Jealous.
One sword buys 34 years. No more staring at the clock every night, heart pounding—just stretch out and sleep.
Why can't that be me?
As I quietly lamented, a mischievous voice whispered.
Quick with the math.
True merchant instincts.
Excellent.
Hard to tell if praise or mockery.
...What's the point of quick math when I suck at making money.
Hey, you just earned 1,000 hours. Not bad, right?
True, but...
Still just 40 days. A month and a half. That sword alone was 34 years, and here I was thrilled over scraps.
No lotto in the demon world?
I needed a jackpot. Scraping by like this meant a lifetime on the clock.
Then it hit me.
Wait. Why no lotto? That was the lotto.
I eyed the magic sword being carted offstage.
Hunter gear left behind in dungeons. Recover and sell it—boom.
Boss, even without ghost stories, I could loot hunter gear, sell it, and rack up lifespan, right?
This was it. Hunters came loaded; kill 'em, sell the gear, strike rich.
But the reply was cold.
Impossible.
...Huh? Why? Money's money.
Don't delude yourself. Your life is payment for spreading ghost stories and spreading fear.
Plain goods sold for profit won't add even a second.
Kill all the hunters you want, sell their gear—it wouldn't extend my thread by a tick. Only ghost stories counted.
What kinda rigid system is this?
Who knows.
The voice chuckled lowly.
Anyway, amusing.
What is?
You pitied humans dying, felt guilty.
Now you're scheming to loot their corpses for gear sales. Smooth as silk.
"......!"
Felt like a gut punch.
Adapting fast, Han Suho. Prime qualities.
His sarcasm left me speechless.
...Yeah.
Two days ago, I was a shivering convenience store clerk at death's door.
Now? Seeing a dead man's gear sparked 'jackpot' thoughts, plotting corpse looting for lifespan.
Guilt? Morals? No room for that noise.
I'm... changing.
I felt alien to myself. Keep going like this, I'd turn monster for real.
But.
Who knows.
I hate complications. Shook my head to clear the fog.
Morals be damned—gotta live first to even worry about it.
If you wanna curse me, go ahead.
The ticking lifespan clock scared me more than my shifting self.
I refuse to die. Never back to that cold dark.
For now... just this much.
I rationalized it away, grimacing bitterly.