Chapter 151
Lee Hoin spun quickly in place. Two swords traced wide arcs through the air as they cut through space.
‘Ha.’
Hoin would probably call Sa Jaeheon a monster.
‘But from where I stand, Lee Hoin is a monster too.’
Sa Jaeheon is a product of refinement. Of course, he was indeed naturally talented. But when you think about it, he’s someone who has lived for thousands of years, wielding nothing but a sword. It would be stranger if he weren’t good.
But Lee Hoin? He has only just picked up a sword, and he’s trained for, at most, two or three months. And yet, he’s pushing Sa Jaeheon this far. If Hoin had lived for thousands of years like Sa Jaeheon, he might even have surpassed him in swordsmanship. That’s the level of talent he had.
—
[If only he had survived.]
—
If he had just survived without losing to the ‘Trauma’ trait.
He’s the kind of guy who made even Sa Jaeheon retry over and over without giving up. In the end, Sa Jaeheon abandoned him… but I had no intention of giving up, nor any reason to.
At that moment, Sa Jaeheon’s eyes locked in combat with Hoin shifted toward me.
As if searching for a reason.
He had already guessed that I was an irregular. So Hoin’s explosive growth in ability seemed, in his mind, to converge on a single conclusion:
Me.
Suspicion or certainty that Hoin had grown this much because of me.
‘But that’s not it.’
That guy is just good.
He earned this himself.
Even if I kept boosting his mental strength, if he were a bottomless jar, nothing would have filled him. But he wasn’t. He was unstable, sure… but not broken.
Hoin seized that exact moment when Sa Jaeheon’s gaze briefly shifted to me.
He twisted his sword midair, adjusted his grip, and stepped forward again.
Like he had nothing to lose.
His movements were far more destructive than before.
Sa Jaeheon’s attention snapped back to Hoin. Hoin, bleeding far more, didn’t care and kept pressing forward relentlessly.
And then…
As if tired of this meaningless war of attrition, Sa Jaeheon stepped back.
A brief gap.
A moment of silence where blades no longer clashed.
Hoin exhaled once and glared at him.
—
[Will he retreat? Or will he try to kill the narrator to the very end? Either way, this should be entertaining!]
—
Sa Jaeheon’s choice was simple.
To distract Hoin, he threw another sword at me.
And in the instant Hoin’s body reflexively shifted toward me, he closed the distance again.
Before, it had felt like he was merely pushing Hoin back.
But now, he was moving to kill.
And at that exact moment…
“Good day, valued customers.”
Someone tore through the air and walked in.
Small feet.
A small body.
A small ball of fur.
A fur-covered creature with deer antlers, dressed in a neat suit, brushed itself off politely.
On the gauge-like panel where its face should be, a monocle-like circle hung over its emoticon eyes.
Ah. That appearance.
—
[It finally made its entrance.]
—
Hoin, still burning from the fight, instinctively tightened his grip on his sword.
The newcomer raised a hand, signaling him to calm down.
Hoin frowned deeply, while Sa Jaeheon stepped back completely, raising an eyebrow.
He clearly recognized it.
Of course, he would. If he’d beaten up story merchants several times, there was no way he wouldn’t know.
“Allow me to introduce myself first.”
The creature brushed its elegant suit again and spoke.
“I am an executive of the Story Merchant Protection Association, ‘13.’ That is my name…‘13.’”
Story merchants originally have no names.
Having a name itself is a contradiction.
How could beings that trade in stories have names?
They have no origin, and even their birth and death are not recorded. How could they possess names under the authority of the Narrator?
Those who are unrecorded have no names.
To avoid destruction through being unrecorded, and yet persist, they were given a ‘species name.’
That species name is Story Merchant.
Because of that, hierarchy or distinction between them shouldn’t exist.
Their appearances differ, sure… but they’re basically just furballs with parts swapped in and out.
But over time, hierarchy naturally forms.
And to distinguish that hierarchy, they needed names.
The highest-ranking individuals, the ones without personal identities, were granted a privilege:
A name.
Of course, they couldn’t have unique names. That would create identity, and identity creates stories.
So they used numbers.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
Naturally, the higher the number, the higher their rank.
Among them, the number 13 was ambiguous.
There were only 24 such numbered individuals, so it was special… but not particularly high-ranking.
Still, ‘13’ proudly cleared its throat.
“The Story Merchant Protection Association, as the name suggests, exists to protect story merchants. And for those of you who may not know…”
It gestured toward the corpse.
“…that individual over there is a story merchant.”
Hoin frowned deeply.
“…What?”
He sounded genuinely confused, as if he had never thought deeply about story merchants before.
The idea that they had names or an association clearly surprised him.
“Yes, I would love to explain more about our long-standing association, but there are many things you need not concern yourselves with…”
A polite but firm boundary.
Hoin frowned again, clearly uninterested in the association itself.
He had been questioning the existence of the being itself.
Meanwhile, ‘13’ walked over to the corpse and continued:
“Please wait a moment. I must conduct what you would call an ‘autopsy.’ With only one of you present, it might be unclear… but since there are four of you, we must identify the culprit, mustn’t we?”
With that, it pulled out a watch from its pocket and pressed it.
At that moment…
The space froze.
My body, mid-lean, froze in place.
Hoin, mid-turn, froze.
Sa Jaeheon also stopped.
Time hadn’t stopped.
Hoin was still shouting in confusion, and Kim Taekjin was still frowning.
Only our bodies were frozen.
Despite Hoin’s protests, ‘13’ simply repeated an automated apology.
“My apologies. However, we cannot accuse and regulate all of you as accomplices merely for having ‘witnessed’ the act. If we were that strict, we couldn’t conduct business. But neither can we allow all of you to leave without knowing who the culprit is.”
It was, in a way, reasonable.
Hoin could only sigh repeatedly as his body remained immobilized.
Still, his gaze kept drifting toward Sa Jaeheon.
He clearly didn’t like the idea of this ending without resolution.
‘It won’t end without resolution.’
Why else would story merchants act so brazenly and still survive?
Because of this, the Story Merchant Protection Association.
—
[That association holds countless stories.]
[And countless items.]
[Stories, in particular, are extremely difficult to obtain.]
—
That much was true.
You couldn’t acquire stories on your own to create traits or skills.
So they paid enormous costs to third-party craftsmen to create custom weapons…
Weapons that allowed you to use traits or skills without possessing the story itself.
They were practically ‘deus ex machina’-level items.
For high-grade traits or skills like Regression, you needed the Narrator’s permission.
Because it violated causality itself.
But simpler abilities like Strength or Swordsmanship could be used without permission.
Of course, getting the exact trait or skill you wanted in one try was rare.
Still, unlike true acquisition, these were temporary forms without side effects.
Even that alone made them incredibly broken.
And those weapons were given to the named story merchants.
They used them to protect their kind… and to punish those who harmed them.
For example…
“Ah, the killer is…”
‘13’ raised its head and looked at Sa Jaeheon.
The emoticon on its display twisted into a deep frown.
“…you.”
—
[Well, the punishment merchants can impose is quite simple, isn’t it?]
—
Yes.
Very simple.
The punishment they could impose was exactly that:
They would sell you nothing.
They would buy nothing from you.
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