"Hey… come on, let's do it again."
The man's hands groped me roughly, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol. I gave only a faint smile, my lips leaning close to his ear.
"But anything more than this will cost extra, sir."
"Hahaha… no problem… no problem."
He lifted his coin pouch—heavy, full.
"Come on… let's do it again…"
"As you wish, sir."
I smiled again. As always. A practiced smile.
Some time later, the man was already fast asleep. Naked, snoring, his fat body sprawled across half the bed. I doubted he even noticed that I had already dressed myself again.
I sat at the edge of the bed for a moment. My hand clenched around the coin pouch—my price for the night.
Quietly, I stood, opened the door, and stepped out.
No one stopped me.
No one cared.
The stairs in this brothel were made of old wood that hadn't been repaired in years. Each step let out a creak, like the tired protest of a floor that had long since grown weary.
On the first floor, the other workers were busy. One was pulling along a drunk nobleman. Another was arranging schedules, while yet another had just finished and was sitting at a table, puffing on a cheap tobacco pipe.
"There's another guest tonight," one of them said.
I just nodded.
My head still felt heavy.
My thoughts… wandered.
If it weren't for that bastard…
Forget it.
Just thinking about it made me want to throw up.
I walked to the bar, grabbed a bottle of alcohol, and poured myself a glass. The drink was always too strong, too bitter—but that was exactly what I needed. I took a gulp. Then another.
Outside the window, night had fully fallen. Oil lamps flickered to life. The distant sound of the city patrol's whistle drifted faintly through the air.
Then, from the far end of the lobby…
I saw someone walk in.
A young man. Blond hair. Brown eyes. Simple clothes, slightly messy. I recognized him.
He… was the young man from the cart.
We had arrived together earlier today. Sharing a ride from an old merchant. Sitting across from each other, but saying little.
He was the one who muttered quietly when he first saw the city from afar: "Beautiful."
Tch.
Naïve boy.
He didn't know a thing about this world yet.
I turned my face away, not wanting to make small talk. I took another drink.
But…
I could feel it.
That gaze.
Sharp. Intentional.
I turned my head quickly—and he was already standing in front of me.
Too close. But not a single server or guest seemed to notice. It was as if time around me… had slowed.
His expression was blank. But his eyes… were staring at something beyond my skin.
Then he spoke.
"Are you human?"
I froze.
What was that supposed to mean?
Of course I was human.
...
Darkness had already swallowed the light, a sign that night had arrived.
I walked through the narrow alleys leading to the red-light district.
Its bustle was like a night market that sold only one thing: a woman's body, for a few hours.
Scantily clad women waved at me, their voices flowing with soft seduction, sometimes with a playful bite.
Maybe because my disguised face looked like that of an innocent young man, they thought I'd be easy to lure.
Heh. Too bad for them.
I'm a married man, you know?
I returned their teasing with a shy smile, one hand behind my head, then quickly walked away. Thanks to all the dramas from the Land of Ginseng I watched with my wife—my acting in situations like this was already at master level.
Finally, I arrived.
A large, busy brothel. Oil lamps hung at the front, their orange glow dancing across the weathered walls.
I stepped inside.
Laughter. Whispers. The mingling scents of cheap wine and cheaper perfume. The creak of shifting beds. Music from wind instruments. And footsteps that never stopped.
It was all just like before. Only now… this wasn't a simulation anymore.
I strolled toward the lobby, letting my eyes wander.
There. By the bar.
A black-haired woman with green eyes was pouring herself a drink. A thin dress clung to her figure, but it was clear… she was human.
She was—the woman from the cart this morning.
Strange. If my memory was right, two years from now this brothel would be entirely run by succubi. Not a single human worker. Even the bartenders would be demons.
But her… I couldn't feel even a trace of demonic aura from her.
And I knew the difference.
Even a Demon King disguised with god-tier magic couldn't escape my gaze.
Then… why didn't I recognize her back in the cart?
Nervous? No. This was… an anomaly.
I stepped forward. In an instant, I was right beside her.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
I looked straight into them.
And asked flatly:
"Are you human?"
Her expression froze.
Her eyes narrowed, as if to say, 'Are you high on something?'
But because of that… I knew the answer.
She was truly human.
Hmm…
Maybe a shift in the timeline had caused things like this. Or… the interference of another party?
I was still thinking when…
Someone approached from the side.
Light footsteps. Sweet scent. Movements that swayed like a dance.
A woman with a flawless figure stood beside me. Her skin pale and smooth, her eyes a soft red, her voice flowing like a breath of wind.
Succubus.
"Dear customer, is there something I can help you with?" she asked, gently touching my arm.
"Ah… it's my first time here," I replied with a shy smile—still keeping up the act. "So I'm a little unsure where to go."
"Oh… so this is your first time, hmm."
She leaned forward slightly, showing a glimpse of her cleavage as if unconsciously.
"How about you spend it with me? I'll even give you… a few special bonuses." She winked playfully, her hips swaying.
I lowered my head slightly, then gave a small nod—still playing the role of the awkward boy.
"My, you really are a cute one," she giggled.
She took my hand and pressed her body against me.
I let her.
Then… I pulled her into an embrace.
But my embrace was not that of an ordinary man.
In an instant, my body shifted.
Flesh and bone realigned beneath my skin. My disguised face melted away like wax. My hair returned to its deep black, my eyes sharp, my gaze calm.
My clothes changed—into a long, dark coat lined with blood-red trim. A steel belt. Rune-plated boots. And a small, broken-cross emblem over my left chest.
I… had returned.
The Demon Slayer.
The woman in my arms froze.
Then—her eyes widened.
Too late.
[Judgement Protocol – Active]
Damage against demon-type entities increased.
I tightened my embrace—not with affection, but with strength.
Her chest caved inward, bones cracking like the snap of an old branch. Her body writhed, but my grip left no room to move.
And in a single breath… her spine broke.
Her body went limp. The red in her eyes faded away. Magic seeped from her flesh—like black steam, dissipating into the air.
I lowered her to the floor slowly.
Silence.
As if everyone was still processing what had just happened—until the screaming began.
Chaos.
I ignored the noise and grabbed the back of the succubus's neck.
Her body twisted—elongating, hardening—forming into a long sword made of veined flesh.
This ability came after I mastered every weapon technique and received the blessing of the Envoy of the God of War and Victory.
It suited me perfectly. Because of the Demon Slayer title, I could turn the creatures I killed into weapons.
Succubi weren't the best material, but they'd do. Not too strong, but sharp enough for small jobs like this.
I raised the weapon and spoke in the Curse Language:
"Domain."
The world shifted instantly.
The brothel's walls cracked—and began to seep blood.
The pool of blood slowly rose, soaking my legs up to the knees. Above it, small floating islands formed at different heights, creating a bizarre, unstable battlefield.
Behind me stood a large island. In its center—a half-ruined stone throne, as if construction had been abandoned long ago.
In the sky, a deep crimson swirled in unnatural patterns. A colossal eye peered down through the clouds, glaring with disgust and authority.
This was my domain.
My settings were simple: anyone except demons could leave—if they wished.
But demons?
Trapped.
No way out.
"Who the hell are you?!"
One of the succubi screamed. Her body transformed completely—curved horns sprouting, bat-like wings spreading, heat radiating from her skin.
I didn't answer.
I threw the long sword at her—it struck dead center in her abdomen.
"My name is Zhartama. A Demon Slayer."
My voice was calm.
I stepped forward, yanked the sword from her body, and leapt back into the crowd.
A few succubi hurled blue fire magic at me.
But—useless.
I swung my blade. One arc, and their attacks split clean in half.
The domain's effect had boosted all my stats to 300. Speed, strength, focus—perfect. My reactions were those of a war machine. My movements—pure nightmare.
One by one, they fell. Without time to scream.
One of them stood out—remaining in the corner, drawing symbols with her own blood and fingers. A ritual, most likely.
I didn't wait.
I grabbed a still-warm corpse, and in an instant, it twisted into a spear.
With a single throw—the spear shot forward.
Piercing through two other bodies before embedding itself in the chest of the woman performing the ritual.
"Explode."
I spoke the word in the Curse Language.
The spear instantly detonated into a blast of flesh.
One explosion. Six more dead. Done.
They hadn't even touched me.
Difference in experience. Difference in class.
Or… maybe I was just too strong. I almost felt like bragging—almost.
Boasting wasn't a good habit for a grown man like me.
"What did we do wrong?!" one succubus screamed in desperation.
"What did we do to deserve this?!"
My steps paused.
I turned, meeting her eyes—full of anger and fear.
"I don't know," I replied flatly.
"…"
"I don't know what you've done wrong. But I am a Demon Slayer. This is my job."
"As simple as that."
Then I stepped forward and cut her from head to toe.
Perfectly symmetrical.