A New Beginning
“Ugh......”
My head feels like it's splitting open. The moment I open my eyes, there's no refreshing morning sunlight—just a vicious hangover crashing over me. I press my temples hard and struggle to sit up. The clock on the bedside table reads noon. The sun's already high in the sky.
[You gulped down everything they poured without a second thought. What a sight. Not an ounce of self-control.]
‘......’
‘Couldn’t help it.’
I clutch my roiling stomach and protest. ‘The vibe was like that. Succubi swarming, pouring drinks—how do you dodge that? Refusing would’ve soured the mood.’
‘Ugh, my gut......’
Then a chill crawls up my spine. I blacked out hard. What if I said something dumb or made a fool of myself? They treat me like a VIP, but turning into a drunken mutt? Too humiliating to face anyone. Kicking the blankets wouldn’t cut it.
‘Hey, boss. Uh......’
‘Did I... mess up yesterday at all?’
I ask, heart pounding. Please, please say no.
‘......Really?’
‘Phew......’
Only then does the knot in my chest loosen. Relief washes over me, but a odd thought bubbles up. ‘Boss, you're surprisingly straight with me?’
‘Huh?’
‘Ah......’
His words stir something subtle. I figured we were just business partners, but this bond runs deeper.
‘So you're solidly in my corner.’
Come to think of it, boss has never fed me a single lie. Sure, he's pulverized my psyche with cold facts, but survival tips and intel? Always dead accurate.
‘Your true nature's got me curious, boss.’
What kind of entity crashes in my skull? What do you even look like? That metallic scrape of a voice—neither clearly male nor female, sometimes mechanical, sometimes otherworldly.
‘......!’
‘Ah......’
Right—forgot boss reads my thoughts. So he caught the "mechanical" bit too? I scramble to pivot.
‘Haha, boss, you know that's just kidding, right? You know how much I adore you.’
The voice drips sarcasm.
‘......Huh?’
‘......’
Stings weirdly. Want to argue, but... can't. Never really loved anyone. No dating experience like normal folks.
‘Should've dated to get it. Damn.’
I haul myself up. Shower first—too grimy to bear.
Creak-. Door swings open, and a succubus waiting in the hall bows gracefully.
“Good morning, benefactor.”
“Ah, yeah. Morning.”
“Up early. Need help washing? Water's ready.”
She glides closer, arm slipping toward mine—classic succubus over-friendliness. Awkward as hell, but shoving her off would be rude. I ease my arm free politely.
“No thanks. I got it solo. Just point me to the bathroom.”
“Aw, bashful? Hehe, this way.”
She giggles like it's adorable and leads on.
The bathroom's spotless. I dart in, lock up.
“Whew.”
Mirror check: sunken eyes, hair like a bird's nest. Splash cold water, brush teeth. Finally, my head clears a bit.
Click. Wipe off, step out—the same succubus is still posted by the door.
“Looking refreshed, benefactor.”
“Thanks to you.”
“Princess awaits. This way.”
“Ah, Princess Serria? Lead on.”
She skips ahead lightly. I smooth my clothes and follow.
“Here. Please enter.”
She stops at massive double doors at the hall's end. Opens them gently; soft light spills out.
I step in.
“You're here, benefactor.”
Serria stands by the window, greeting me. Her outfit's plain as can be: snug white sleeveless tee hugging her curves, black skinny jeans tracing her lines. Straight out of Earth fashion.
‘......She's stunning.’
No frills, and her raw beauty hits harder. Human-esque, yet leagues beyond any mortal.
I swallow a quick gasp, bow. “Good morning.”
“Sit easy.”
She gestures to the sofa and approaches. I settle in without fuss. She lifts the teapot from the table, pouring my cup herself. Purple steam curls up.
“Try it. My treasured blend.”
“Thanks.”
I lift the cup, inhale—mind sharpens instantly. First sip: deep, lingering flavor coats my tongue.
‘......!’
Eyes widen. No bitterness, just subtle sweetness and floral harmony.
“Incredible. Never dreamed demon realm had tea like this.”
“Hehe, glad it suits you. It's Night's Comfort. Saved it just for you.”
She smiles, pleased. Then stands, gesturing to her outfit. “Anyway, benefactor. Thoughts on today's look?”
“Ah.”
“Montelli's Earth-clothing knockoffs from altar artisans. Tried one for ease—looks okay?”
Her eyes sparkle with hope. I flash a thumbs-up no hesitation.
“Perfect. Outshines most Earth models.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Your beauty elevates anything, but this? Extra alluring.”
“Hehe, you do have a way with words.”
Serria laughs delightedly and sits again. Light banter flows till the cups empty. Her face turns serious.
“Benefactor. Truth is, I called to thank you... but also to propose a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Yes.” She meets my gaze steadily. “Auction was just usage rights. I want to buy the Plastic Surgeon outright.”
‘......Ah.’
Memory clicks. I auctioned rights, not ownership. Chaos made me forget.
“Right. Rights alone must feel shaky.”
“Exactly. Battle proved it—essential for our dungeon. Can't leave it temporary.”
She looks earnest. “Agreed.” I smile. “Fair price? Happy to sell.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You proved its worth.”
Words aside, no plans to gouge. Serria's prime repeat customer ahead. Loyal patron care is merchant basics. Plus...
‘Cold calc: Plastic Surgeon's not premium.’
Rules too basic. Sharp hunter cracks it after a few deaths. D-grade limit. But here? Succubi hallucinations cloud judgment—near impossible for hunters.
‘Tough sell elsewhere. Best here.’
Clears stock, wins loyalty. Win-win.
“Really? Thank you, benefactor.” Serria smiles elegantly, beckons. A waiting succubus hauls in a hefty chest.
“Then... 2,000 gold. Sound good?”
‘......!’
I take it, breath catching. 2,000 gold—unthinkable fortune.
“S-such a sum... really okay?”
“Take it. You earn it.”
Serria leans close, rose scent wafting. Looks up with playful eyes. “You're my benefactor... and you clicked with me.”
‘......’
“Buying your goodwill. Call it a bribe?”
Blood surges to my head. ‘......Way too potent.’
Beauty beyond human, plus that charm? Head spins. I cough, look away.
“Ahem! If you say so... I accept gratefully.”
Chest swells. First major deal sealed. True merchant stride one.
‘Just the start.’
Need more ghost stories, riskier trades. Info first.
‘Back home, ghost story hunt begins.’
Chest in hand, I rise. “Time for me to head out.”
“Already?”
Regret clear, but she escorts without pressing.
“I'll see you off.”
Down the long hall to grand entrance doors—they glide open silently.
Beyond, I freeze.
“Waaah-!!”
“He's out!”
“Leaving so soon?”
Dozens of succubi cluster like clouds. They swarm, voices wistful.
“Come back soon, benefactor. I'll pamper you proper.”
“Bath service next time? Promise!”
“One more drink with me? Yeah?”
Winks and teasing touches rain down. Awkward grin. “Haha, sure. Next chance... definitely.”
“Girls, enough. You're embarrassing him.”
Serria steps in, calming them. Pulls them back, smiles bright. “Sorry. They adore you.”
“No issue. Too much hospitality.”
“Safe trip. I'll MaTalk sometimes—don't ghost me? Late replies, I'll sulk.”
“Noted. Won't ignore a peep.”
“Promise? See you.”
She waves. I nod lightly, turn.
“I'll drop by again.”
Farewells chase me as I head for the gate.
‘Prep time.’
Stealth cloak out. Outside still risky—guards possible. No bare exit.
Shh-. Cloak on, I melt into air. Pad silent to the gate's blue shimmer, dive in.
Flash-. World flips; entrance looms.
Armed soldiers camp right at the gate.
‘......Guarding, as expected.’
Lucky—no hunters, just grunts. They can't spot stealth cloak.
‘Go.’
I ghost past their lines, breath held. Trek far till safe, then shed the cloak.
Pull phone, fire up bank app.
‘......’
Sigh escapes. 2.15 million won. Convenience store scraps, my whole nest egg.
‘Fired now. What to eat?’
Rent, food, bills—two months tops. Job hunt urgent.
Heavy steps drag me cityward.
How long? Neon jungle swallows me downtown.
‘......Huh?’
One billboard snags my eye. Building wall promo screen: YouTuber gripping camera, bold text flashing.
- Seeking gutsy explorers for haunted house dives!
- Ghosts? Demons? We verify firsthand!
- No experience needed! Iron hearts welcome!
Screen: Eerie abandoned house backdrop, guy yelling.
“Haunted house hunts......”
Brain sparks. ‘Hold up. Opportunity?’
Ghost story merchant gig. Sell? Stock first. But ghost stories ain't corner store kimbap. No map to rumors or real dangers.
‘Pro crew changes that.’
They scour nation's haunts. Research, scouting—done deal. I fake-team in, spoon their setup.
Biggest win: ‘Not solo.’
Money's fine, but lone derelict crawl? Insane. Scary. Group? Fear fades. Crisis? Human shields.
‘Total steal.’
Info secured. Safety locked. Perfect.
One hitch.
D-10
‘......Damn.’
Face falls. Ten days to deadline. 2,000 gold windfall, but idling fortnight stings.
Dilemma short. Vs. solo ghost-chasing costs? This pays dividends.
‘Investment. One solid score covers it.’
Snap photo of billboard.
Click.
‘Locked in. Next up: Ghost Hunter.’