Though Heo Dong-sik had accepted all of Sang-woong’s terms in their second deal out of urgency and secured the antidote potions, the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
“He thinks he can look down on me just because his potions are good?” he muttered.
Not just anyone could become a black market dealer. This was a ruthless world where brute strength alone wasn’t enough to survive.
Memories of the perilous moments from his past flashed through Heo Dong-sik’s mind like a panorama. Surviving required monopolizing information, employing every trick in the book, and having unwavering boldness. At times, he had even risked his life in deals to climb to his current position.
“And he dares to mess with someone like me?”
Suppressing his rising anger, Heo Dong-sik took a deep drag on his cigarette. The shortened butt glowed hotly, and acrid smoke billowed from his mouth. His pride wouldn’t allow him to be swayed by some upstart.
“Hyung-nim, let’s just take care of that punk. All we need is the recipe,” Lee Chung-woo, the cheekbone guy, said through gritted teeth.
He, too, harbored no fondness for Sang-woong, having been humiliated by him in their last encounter.
“It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
Indeed, they had used every means possible to rake in profits. They’d swindled countless people, taking goods without paying or exploiting weaknesses to extort even more. Naturally, they’d also coerced alchemist hunters into revealing potion recipes for profit.
“Damn it, I was ready to do an honest deal this time, but that lousy punk is digging his own grave,” Heo Dong-sik spat.
Fearless as they were, they couldn’t ignore the rumors. Their repeated misdeeds had spread across the dark web, with victims anonymously posting about their actions on black market forums. They were constantly busy monitoring and deleting those posts.
“If we get our hands on that guy’s antidote potion recipe, we’ll make a fortune. If we produce and sell it ourselves, we won’t even need to worry about rumors,” Lee Chung-woo said.
Heo Dong-sik nodded. If they secured an exclusive item unavailable on other black market sites, rumors would be irrelevant. Sang-woong’s antidote potions were that valuable.
“Alright, we’ll deal with him next time we meet. Call Do Seung-woo too,” Heo Dong-sik ordered.
“Hyung-nim, do we really need to bring Seung-woo? You’re more than enough on your own. Why waste money? Fewer people, the better. That guy’s not exactly loyal,” Lee Chung-woo argued.
Heo Dong-sik was a Rank 0 Hunter, a level that commanded respect anywhere. Lee Chung-woo, a Rank 6 Hunter, believed the two of them could easily handle someone like Sang-woong.
“Hmm…” Heo Dong-sik let out a short groan, rubbing his temple with his thumb.
Do Seung-woo, also a Rank 0 Hunter, was a mercenary of sorts—a precaution for unexpected trouble. But Chung-woo’s words made sense. If Do Seung-woo realized how much money was at stake, he might not settle for just a fee. Heo Dong-sik himself wouldn’t in that position.
“Fine, it’ll just be the two of us,” he decided.
“Good call, Hyung-nim. I’ll handle it cleanly. Cut off a couple of fingers, and he’ll spill everything,” Lee Chung-woo said with a grin.
“Make sure the cleanup is thorough too.”
“Of course. This isn’t our first rodeo. This time, I’ll stuff him in a drum with cement and dump him in the deep sea.”
“Do it right. No loose ends,” Heo Dong-sik warned.
“Yes, Hyung-nim,” Lee Chung-woo replied, playfully saluting like a soldier.
Heo Dong-sik smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with greed, as if he’d hit the jackpot.
He sank into a fantasy of securing the recipe, using it as a stepping stone to amass immense wealth. He pictured himself in a tailored suit, a gleaming luxury watch on his wrist, lounging in the back of a high-end sedan with a leisurely smile. Buying the building he’d always wanted, basking in the envy of countless people. Like a movie protagonist, he imagined living a lavish, prosperous life, the thought sending a thrill through him.
Deep in the land, atop a large branch, stood a small house that looked like a bird’s nest from afar. It was Aria’s cozy home, lovingly built by Sang-woong in the warmest spot on the land.
Rising from her bed, Aria stretched widely, basking in the land’s peaceful aura.
“Aria! Aria! Let’s play! Haw!”
The first visitors of the day, as always, were the Afua tribe children.
“Hey, kids!” Aria greeted them brightly, stepping outside.
The children erupted in cheers, hopping excitedly at the sight of her.
“Aria, what are we playing today? Let’s go! Haw!” they urged.
Smiling, Aria said, “Alright, how about a fun game of hide-and-seek? I’ll be it!”
As she closed her eyes and began counting, the children squealed in delight, scattering to hide behind trees and in rock crevices.
Aria listened for their breathing, weaving through the forest.
“Let’s see who’s hiding!” she called, laughing.
One child peeked out from between leaves. “Here I am!”
Aria quickly approached, tickling the child, who burst into giggles. The others darted through the forest, trying to evade her.
From the sky, Aria looked down, enjoying the game. The children used their small size to slip through narrow paths and under low branches, attempting to outsmart her.
“This looks fun!”
Returning from the land with Leon, Sang-woong smiled brightly at the sight of Aria and the children playing.
Leon, as soon as they crossed the dungeon gate, dashed off somewhere in a hurry.
“Master! Master! You’re here!” Aria flew over to greet Sang-woong, followed by the Afua children rushing toward him.
“It’s the Master! Haw!”
“Sang-woong! So cool! Haw!”
The children charged at him like tiny comets, their small feet stomping the ground, short arms flailing, expressing their joy with their whole bodies.
Each time they ran to him, Sang-woong felt a warm, pure emotion fill his heart—a feeling he’d never experienced in his fifty years before regression.
“Sang-woong, ice cream! Haw!”
“Chocolate for me! Haw!”
“Master, bread! Haw!”
Sang-woong handed out the snacks they requested one by one. Aria, holding an ice cream as big as herself, beamed with happiness.
“Now that I think about it, Aria’s grown a bit since I first saw her,” Sang-woong noted. Her body was slightly larger, more robust, her presence more vivid.
Leaving Aria and the children, he headed to the Horned Chicken coop. The few Horned Chickens Leon had brought back had multiplied to over twenty.
“Always running off to play, begging for snacks when you see me—I thought you were just a smart mutt, but you’re a warrior,” Sang-woong said, nodding at the lively chickens.
These Horned Chickens were different from Earth’s. Their energy was unique, especially the first one Leon caught, which now exuded an imposing aura after recovering.
Sang-woong began building a larger coop next to the existing one, as the growing number of chickens had made the space cramped.
“With chicks coming soon, I should make it spacious,” he muttered.
Connecting wooden beams to the posts he’d driven into the ground, a sturdy frame took shape quickly. The chickens clucked excitedly, as if anticipating their new home.
“Just wait a bit. You’ll soon have a comfy, spacious place,” Sang-woong said to them, spreading a sturdy wire mesh around the frame and securing it with wire.
“It looks a bit rough, but as long as it’s sturdy,” he said, finishing the coop with plywood for the roof.
“Wow, Sang-woong! The coop is awesome! Haw!”
The Afua children, now gathered around, looked at him with sparkling eyes. The coop was their new playground. They loved catching nearby bugs or worms to feed the chickens, who eagerly pecked at the offerings, clucking happily. The kids, thrilled by the chickens’ enthusiasm, hunted for more bugs.
Holding wriggling worms carefully and offering them to the chickens, they watched as the birds stretched their necks to gobble them up. The children giggled at the sight, sometimes startled when the chickens squabbled over food but quickly returning to their playful feeding.
“Master, a Horned Chicken laid an egg!” Aria pointed at one of the chickens.
Sang-woong’s gaze followed to a corner of the coop, where a white egg rested on the straw.
“Soon, I’ll add a delicious rugby ball omelet to the menu,” he said.
The eggs from these Horned Chickens were exceptional, with rich, savory yolks and subtly sweet whites. When he’d made an omelet before, it was so delicious it surprised him.
He moved the chickens to the new coop, where they hopped and flapped, clearly pleased with the larger space. He installed a feeder and water container as a final touch.
“Grow well and lay lots of tasty eggs,” he said.
Another peaceful day on the land drew to a close.
Closing the restaurant and checking his email, Sang-woong’s brow furrowed slightly.
“They need more antidote potions?”
Given how humiliated the sunglasses guy had seemed last time, he hadn’t expected contact so soon. People like that usually clung to their pride and held grudges.
“Well, as long as I get paid, it doesn’t matter,” he muttered, sending a reply with the meeting time and place.
Three days later, Sang-woong arrived at the designated spot. The black market dealer was already there.
“Passi-nim, great to see you again. Thanks to your antidote potions, we’ve had a huge boost. Site traffic has noticeably increased,” Heo Dong-sik said, addressing Sang-woong by his nickname with a greasy smile, extending a hand.
His overly friendly demeanor raised Sang-woong’s guard.