Interlude: A Twisted Grin and Succubi's Revelry
The live feed screen went pitch black.
"······."
I stared blankly at the darkened display.
Ugh······ horrifying.
No matter that they were enemies, I never wanted to see a person skinned alive and dismantled again. Not ever.
Then Voice spoke up.
Of course! If that doesn't scare you, you're a psychopath, not a human.
I grumbled inwardly in response. But Voice pressed on, as if amused by my reaction.
······?
What nonsense is this? I absentmindedly touched my mouth with my hand.
"······Huh?"
My fingertips brushed my lips. Both corners of my mouth were curved slightly upward. Not crying at a sad movie, but the satisfied grin of an audience who just watched a hilarious comedy.
What, what? Why am I smiling?
My mind felt revulsion, but my body was thrilled? My heart pounded wildly. Was it fear making it race, or was I losing my mind? I couldn't tell.
Lost in confusion, a voice came from beside me.
"Merchant?"
"······!"
I snapped back and turned. Serria was looking at me.
"Ah, yes. Princess."
"Are you alright? Your complexion looks a bit······ odd."
"······No, it's nothing. Just a bit queasy. The footage was too intense."
I replied flatly, wiping my mouth. Then Serria's eyes, which had been staring into space, went wide.
"Oh my god······."
An exclamation burst from her lips. Curious, I asked,
"What is it?"
"Points are flooding in! Those intruders must've been high-level."
Serria clenched her fist, her face flushed with excitement.
"This is more than enough to repair the dungeon! We could even use the surplus to boost our forces!"
She beamed at me. Despite witnessing the hunters' slaughter, she showed no fear or disgust. True to her demonic roots.
To Serria, a hunter's death wasn't a horrific tragedy—it was a sweet harvest.
"Really······ thank you so much, Merchant. Without you, we would've been in real danger."
She grabbed both my hands. I shook my head.
"You're too kind. I just sold the goods; you made excellent use of them. That's your talent."
"No, don't be modest! That Plastic Surgeon ghost story······ it was chillingly powerful. The hunters didn't stand a chance······."
Serria shivered with satisfaction. Watching her, I coolly tallied the results in my head.
Definitely top-tier firepower.
As this dungeon's master, Serria was of succubus queen lineage. She accounted for over ninety percent of the dungeon's strength. And she'd ended the crisis without lifting a finger. Quite encouraging.
With this efficiency, I could raise prices.
I forcibly suppressed my rising smile. Then Serria stepped closer. A rich rose scent wafted over.
"We can't just let this joyous day pass."
"Pardon?"
"A party! We'll hold a banquet tonight."
Her eyes sparkled like jewels.
"To celebrate our victory and properly honor our dungeon's savior, the Merchant. Even the minions idolize you as a hero."
"Ah, hero? That's too much."
"Ho ho, don't say that. Tonight, you're the star. I'll prepare the finest wines and cuisine. Any favorites?"
No reason to refuse. Perfect for building client bonds and future deals. I smiled softly and nodded.
"Whatever you offer, I'll gratefully accept. Though I haven't shed my human tastes yet······ so anything too demon realm might be tricky."
"No worries! Our chef masters Earth cuisine. You'll love it."
Serria grinned like an excited child and summoned her minions. Tonight promised to be fun.
**
"Now, if you'd just lift your arms a bit?"
"Oh, your jacket's a little wrinkled. Let me smooth it."
"······."
While the party prep went on, I endured the succubi's lavish attentions. One held my jacket, two buttoned my shirt, another combed my hair.
This is overwhelming.
For a commoner used to dressing alone, it felt like sitting on pins. But honestly? Not bad. Soft touches, sweet scents. Who'd refuse?
I secretly savored it.
"Noble one, no bath needed?"
A succubus adjusting my waistband looked up, eyes gleaming seductively.
"We could scrub your back and thoroughly relieve your fatigue······."
"······!"
The others turned, smirking mysteriously. Cold sweat trickled down my spine.
This was dangerous. Nod, and I'd be drained dry before the party even started.
"N-no, thanks. No sweat, so I'm good. Haha."
I waved it off, sweating bullets. They retreated, looking disappointed.
Disaster averted, I took the clothes they offered. A sleek black tuxedo.
"Specially prepared by the Princess. Demon noble style."
Dressed and mirrored, I looked the part of a debuting aristocrat. Less ghost story merchant, more society gentleman.
"Ready? We'll escort you."
**
Creeeak— The heavy door swung open, spilling brilliant lights. The annex ballroom on the castle's second floor. Unlike the wrecked first-floor lobby, this was opulent and antique.
Tables overflowed with tempting dishes; a long red carpet stretched out.
But food didn't catch my eye.
"Wah, the noble one's here!"
"Oh, the tux suits you perfectly."
The ballroom brimmed with succubi. Dressed for the party, their outfits screamed bold. Backless gowns were tame; some wore sheer see-throughs or leather barely covering essentials.
Ahem!
I cleared my throat, averting my gaze. Where to look? As an average Korean guy, this visual assault was overwhelming.
"You've arrived, Noble One."
Serria approached. Unlike the others, she wore an elegant red evening gown that highlighted her grace.
"I've been waiting."
She smiled demurely and linked arms. I flinched at the soft press but played it cool, letting her escort me to the head table overlooking the hall.
"Everyone, attention!"
She raised her glass; the murmurs hushed.
"To the Noble One who led us to victory today!"
"To him—!!"
Cheers erupted with sensual, slow music. Succubi danced—twisting, hips swaying, hands caressing like lovers. The air thickened with sticky heat.
······Whoa.
Blood rushed to my head. To hide my flush, I hurriedly speared a steak with my fork.
Chew something to distract.
Hope it tastes good.
No high hopes, I bit in. My eyes widened.
Huh?
Familiar salty savoriness. Umami-rich juices. No demon spices—this was store-bought steak sauce and oyster.
Perfect Earth flavor.
"To your taste?"
Serria watched my face.
"······Impressive. Just like back on Earth."
"Good. The chef slaved over human recipes."
She refilled my wine, relieved. Watching her minions dance, she turned to me seriously.
"Noble One. As I said······ thank you."
"······."
"Without your help, no party today. Me, them—we'd have been captured, met miserable ends."
Her voice trembled faintly. I raised my glass calmly.
"No need. The product was excellent, but your minions were key. Their abilities amplified the ghost story's power."
No flattery. The Plastic Surgeon was strong but simple. Succubi illusions and charms stripped hunters' reason—no chance to grasp rules.
Fear and pleasure. Reason shattered, chaos.
Succubi might synergize best with ghost stories.
Then Serria ventured cautiously,
"Um, Noble One······."
"Yes?"
"Couldn't you······ stay here longer?"
She gazed intently, eyes heavy with reluctance. Puzzled, I asked,
"Stay? I'm a merchant—I leave after deals."
"I know. But······ you have nowhere to go."
"······Pardon?"
"Like us, you can't leave for Earth."
She sipped seriously.
"You used the teleport to enter; your coordinates are fixed here. Even from Montelli, dungeon laws pull you back. So······."
She assumed I was trapped like her. Once in, forever bound.
Her logical explanation drew a smirk.
"Princess."
"Yes?"
"Thanks for worrying, but I'm fine."
I swirled my wine lightly.
"Dungeon bonds don't hold me. I can leave or return anytime."
"······What?"
Her eyes bulged. Her glass-bearing hand froze.
"H-how······? Even archdemons can't cross dimensions freely. How······?"
"I'm a ghost story merchant trading heteromorphs. That's nothing surprising."
"Ah······."
She stared blankly. Her face said it defied logic, but my nonchalance left her speechless.
"True······ You've defied demon realm norms since we met."
"I'll take that as praise."
"The highest, yes."
She brightened, toasting my glass.
"Complicated talk later. Enjoy this victory tonight—for you."
"Will do. Thanks."
Clink— The clear toast rang as I downed the red wine. Sweet, bittersweet taste of triumph.
But then, worry hit.
Wait. I have no inventory left?
My mind chilled. First product, D-rank Watcher, cleared by hunters. Second, Plastic Surgeon, assigned here.
Nothing left to sell.
······Trouble.
Lifespan secured, but no stock. A merchant without goods was a soldier without bullets.
Gotta hunt ghost stories immediately on return.
No rest upon Earth return. I'd scour desperately.
Amid the lavish noise, I sighed inwardly.
**
Hunter Association, Korea. Meeting room.
Heavy silence as the intel chief flipped the screen.
"Pattern of recent nationwide hunter disappearances."
Red dots peppered the map.
"Unlike typical dungeons. Perfect vanishings—no bodies. Survivor rate near zero. The Association officially names this phenomenon ghost stories."
Murmurs exploded.
"Ghost stories? You joking?"
An exec slammed the table, scoffing.
"We're hunters. Data analysts, monster slayers. Not ghostbusters."
"Right. Call 'em new variants—why unscientific terms?"
"Public'll laugh. Think we're holding a shaman ritual."
Sneers echoed. But the chief cut coldly.
"Unscientific that's why ghost stories."
"······What?"
"Data can't explain. Untraceable instant deaths, undefendable mental corruption. Bizarre, incomprehensible rules."
He scanned coldly.
"Doubt it? I can play field footage. But book psych evals after."
His sharp warning silenced them—they sensed no joke.
Atmosphere sank; he clicked again.
"And Chairman. Another anomaly reported."
"Anomaly?"
Top seat, Choi Sang-guk—jaw propped, watching silently—twitched a brow.
"Where."
"Jeju Island."
A man's scarred face appeared.
Less hunter, more battlefield killer.
"This is Wei. From World Mercenary Association, aka Mercenaries."
"What business do Mercs have in Jeju?"
"Last three weeks, hunter vanishings spiked near Seogwipo dungeons. He commissioned ~30 hunters weekly, luring them in."
"30 each? Total······."
"Minimum 90. Status unknown."
Air froze. 90—not trivial.
But the real report followed.
"Issue: this morning, Wei led his crew inside."
"Ho. Hands-on?"
"Yes. But 50 minutes later, biosignals vanished. Total wipe."
"······What?"
Choi Sang-guk's eyes narrowed.
"Wipe? How confirmed?"
"Mercs reported. Implants sent death signals simultaneously. No margin for error."
"Dungeon rank?"
"Measured B-rank."
"Hah."
He scoffed; incredulous sighs rippled.
"Makes sense? Wei's crew—all B-rank plus. Wiped in a B-dungeon?"
"Impossible. Even with variables, not in under an hour."
Execs shook heads.
B-mercs failing B-dungeon meant data error—or something beyond norms inside.
"No error. Mercs double-checked."
Silence fell again.
"Chairman."
Vice chairman spoke cautiously.
"What now? 90+ missing, foreign mercs wiped. Send investigation team?"
"Hmm."
Choi Sang-guk leaned back, eyeing ceiling, fingers drumming calculation.
Then casually,
"Need to?"
"But sir, major incident on our soil."
"Jeju."
Vice shut up. Exec faces shifted subtly.
"Landowners Korean?"
"······No."
"Building owners? Commerce? Residents?"
"······Chinese over 90% for years."
He smiled coldly.
"See? Korean in name only—Chinese capital enclave. Why meddle?"
Harsh reality. Jeju long colonized by capital. The 90 hunters tragic, but Wei and mercs were foreign.
"They walked in themselves. Mercs'll handle. No need for our blood."
"But······."
"Chairman's right. We're stretched thin defending capital. No point wasting on foreign interests."
Execs nodded.
Self-interest over soil when victims outsiders.
Choi Sang-guk stood.
"Shelve it. Monitor Mercs."
"Yes."
"Capital's priority. Seoul shows ghost story signs too. Short-staffed—set priorities."
"Understood."
"And Secretary Kim."
"Yes, Chairman."
Aide bowed.
"New department for ghost stories. Name: Anomaly Management Team."
"Anomaly Management Team······ Got it. Staffing immediately."
"Smart ones. No wild goose chases."
He clicked tongue shortly and left.
Jeju map lingered on screen, red dots glaring. But none remaining looked back.