Chapter 249: Three Horns, Good Connection, Ill-Fated Connection, Dwarf (10)

The inside of the workshop resembled a hospital just as much as its exterior did.

Pristine white hallways, tightly shut patient rooms, and the sharp smell of medicine…

It was impossible to tell whether they had taken over an actual hospital or simply remodeled the place to look like one.

Either way, one thing was certain—the owner of this place had an extreme case of obsessive cleanliness.

…Not even a speck of dust.

Yeomyeong clicked his tongue as he looked around the hallway. Others might not notice, but as someone who had once worked as a janitor, he knew exactly how much effort it took to maintain this level of cleanliness.

This wasn’t just a matter of sweeping and wiping frequently.

To prevent dust from settling in wall crevices or grease from accumulating on door handles required nothing short of an abnormal level of obsession.

[Is something wrong?]

The robed man, who was leading the way, asked when he noticed Yeomyeong constantly looking around.

“It’s nothing. I was just surprised by how clean it is.”

Perhaps taking it as a compliment, the robed man let out a small chuckle.

[An alchemist’s skill is directly tied to cleanliness. It is an age-old tradition that dates back even before the Magic Tower was established in Hilaria.]

His statement sounded rather old-fashioned for what was essentially praise for his master. In an era where “alchemist” was practically synonymous with “pharmaceutical company employee,” the mention of tradition felt a little out of place.

“How do you manage the cleaning? It doesn’t seem like you’re using traditional methods.”

Yeomyeong asked as he noted the lack of broom or mop marks anywhere.

[You have sharp eyes. My master does not use traditional cleaning methods. Instead, she employs a special technique.]

“…A special technique.”

Yeomyeong closed his mouth. He didn’t know what that technique was, but he was certain it wasn’t something an ordinary janitor would typically use.

Anyway, as they continued walking, each hiding their own thoughts…

The robed man finally stopped in front of an iron door, located deep within the workshop. If this were a regular hospital, this would be where the consultation rooms were.

[Please wait here a moment. My master is in preparation.]

“…Preparation? Preparing for what?”

This time, it was the Saintess who spoke. She had remained silent ever since they entered the workshop, but now, she glanced between the door and the robed man with a suspicious look.

[You are an important guest. We do not simply receive such a guest without proper preparation.]

As if on cue, sounds began to emerge from beyond the door.

Something crashing, shattering, breaking apart.

It sounded like absolute chaos, but fortunately, the noise didn’t last long.

After about the same amount of time it would take the Saintess to bless a grenade and a gun, the door let out a creaking sound and slowly opened.

The view beyond the door was no different from the hallway—spotlessly white, without a single speck of dust.

The problem was that the space beyond the door was completely empty. There was no sign of the things that had made the earlier noise, and more importantly, not even a trace of the supposed master, the alchemist.

“What the hell?”

Just as the Saintess turned her head in confusion, her senses suddenly twisted.

Her vision warped slightly to the left and right, a sour strawberry scent tickled her nose, a sickly sweet taste flooded her mouth as if she had bitten into a lump of sugar, and even though Yeomyeong was right beside her, his footsteps sounded distant and muffled…

Upon looking over and seeing Seti stagger as well, the Saintess gritted her teeth.

She couldn’t believe this. After coming this far… It turned out to be a trap.

Instinctively, she tried to pull out her gun and fire, but before she could, Yeomyeong’s hand covered hers.

“Wait a moment, just take a break.”

For some reason, Yeomyeong’s voice pierced through the distorted senses and reached her. It felt as if, even in the midst of this distortion, he was perfectly fine.

This might have been a hallucination caused by the distortion, but Saintess obediently lowered her gun.

She trusted Yeomyeong and trusted her belief in him.

Of course, she didn’t forget to throw in one last remark.

“…The hospitality here is really shitty.”

The moment he stepped into the room, Yeomyeong could sense two things—the drug dispersed in the air, and the magic circle secretly at work.

Neither of them was a perilous trap, but the smell of the drug he had been inhaling as he walked through the corridor was a problem.

Was the smell poisonous from the start?

As if proving its meticulousness, the poison and magic worked in synergy, rushing through his blood vessels in an instant and intoxicating his entire nervous system.

If anyone other than Yeomyeong had been here, it would have been a sharp attack that would have been quite difficult to handle.

However, the one here was Yeomyeong.

He was so accustomed to having his senses cursed while fighting necromancers that he had learned to manipulate his own blood vessels with Blood Flow Acceleration.

His body detoxified the poison as it was being absorbed.

Soon after, a woman standing in the middle of a pure white room appeared in his sight.

Was she just out of college? The woman wore a white lab coat and had unrealistic deep pink hair and pink eyes.

“Already detoxified? Impressive. You are indeed a monster who killed Magdu.”

Yeomyeong couldn’t answer because he realized that the Saintess had suddenly raised a gun and aimed it at her own foot.

It was a situation where she could easily hurt herself.

No matter what the pink-haired woman was babbling, Yeomyeong first stopped the Saintess. Despite her senses being distorted, she unexpectedly followed his words without resistance.

She remained silent until the end, though.

“…The hospitality here is really shitty.”

At that, the pink-haired alchemist let out a small laugh.

“Is that your companion? That woman’s a piece of work, too. Almost like the previous Sain—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Yeomyeong drew a sword from his inventory and swung it.

Puhak— Her left ankle was severed, and blood splattered. It was in exactly the same spot as where the Saintess had planned to aim.

Despite losing her balance and collapsing to the ground, the alchemist still spoke with a grin.

“Oh, did I upset you? Sorry. But I think I can afford a little prank on the one who killed my frie—”

This time, it was the right ankle.

“Your temper… Well, you already know it’s not a deadly poiso—”

Next was the left arm. Her pristine white lab coat turned bright red before she finally shut her mouth.

The air was thick with the stench of blood.

After he carefully held and laid the two girls, who were in a state of confusion, down on the ground, the alchemist spoke again.

“Again, it’s just a prank. The poison will naturally detoxify in 10 minutes.”

“I don’t feel like playing around with someone like you.”

“…Is that so? It seems like we get along pretty well, especially when it comes to cleaning. But let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”

The alchemist said that and picked up her severed left arm, which was lying on the floor.

She placed the arm on her shoulder, and as blood gushed out, the wound began to regenerate at a rapid speed.

It wasn’t as fast as the KGB’s Holy Relics or Dzhugashvili, but it was still beyond ordinary regeneration.

After regenerating her severed ankles in the same way, the alchemist dusted herself off and stood up.

“So then. Sir? Should I show you the evidence that you killed Magdu?”

Evidence? When Yeomyeong remained silent and just stared at her, she added.

“The number you called right in front of the workshop. That number was for Magdu alone. It swore to keep it until the day it died.”

“…”

“The fact that you have that number means… Magdu is dead, and it left it to you. Simple deduction, isn’t it?”

Yeomyeong shook the blood from his sword and responded.

“Did you call me Dragon Slayer earlier just to test me?”

The words were spoken by the robed man at the entrance. The alchemist shrugged, confirming his suspicion.

“There have been people tracking that number recently. It won’t hurt to be more careful, right?”

People tracking the number? Yeomyeong naturally thought of Sancho. Had he been traced back already?

Well, they weren’t a proper information guild, and expecting such finesse from a Knight Order that was now partly a gang was asking too much.

Regardless of Yeomyeong’s thoughts, the alchemist continued speaking.

“When you didn’t react much to the Dragon Slayer remark, I was sure. You killed Magdu and received this number from him. How is that possible? What exactly happened?”

Instead of explaining that Magdu’s physical demise and his soul’s end were different, Yeomyeong pulled a dragon’s heart from his inventory and said.

“Magdu died like the way Magdu would. That’s all.”

It was a short summary, but more than enough. Nothing could serve as better proof than the massive dragon’s heart in his hand.

“Like Magdu… That blockhead really died like a blockhead it is, huh? Ha, you must be strong enough for it to acknowledge you.”

The alchemist reached out and gently ran her hand over the dragon’s heart, as if mourning a lost friend.

Yeomyeong didn’t stop her. He didn’t know what kind of connection she had with Magdu, but he could at least give her time to grieve.

After she had enough time for mourning, the alchemist turned to Yeomyeong.

“What do you want me to do with this heart? What did Magdu tell you?”

“It said you would help me implant the dragon’s heart into my stomach.”

“…What?”

Her face twisted instantly as if something was terribly wrong with what he had said.

“Magdu’s heart is practically a factory producing twisted mana. You’re not even a necromancer—why implant it in your stomach? No, more importantly, why not just make it into a potion?”

Instead of answering, Yeomyeong showed her. He chanted the spell Magdu had left him, and his hand ignited, releasing a blue ghost fire.

“Tuskegee’s Ghost Fire? You are a necromancer? No, that’s not it…”

The mana of the World Tree, sleeping within his veins, flared up along with the ghost fire, which consumed his entire right hand.

Realizing something, the alchemist clapped her hands and immediately grabbed Yeomyeong’s left wrist.

Then, she abruptly infused mana into him to inspect his blood vessels. It was very rude that losing her head wouldn’t have been surprising if it had been any other superhuman instead of Yeomyeong.

After examining his blood vessels, her expression hardened.

“What the hell are you? Are you the World Tree’s husband or something?”

“…”

“There’s a limit to how much elixir one can take. Your veins are stuffed full of World Tree mana. Do you even know how much this is worth? Like this, you can’t even drink a common folk herb potion, let alone handle a dragon’s heart.”

In other words, his body was so saturated with elixirs that, to take in more, he would have to change his physical form entirely.

Yeomyeong didn’t deny it. He was well aware of his condition.

“Implant the heart in your stomach to extract twisted mana, and at the same time, increase your total mana capacity in a way that doesn’t rely on elixirs… Definitely sounds like something a power-obsessed dragon would come up with.”

Saying that, the alchemist released Yeomyeong’s wrist and stood up.

“Alright. I’ll help. But it’s going to be expensive.”

“A fee? You’re putting a price on a friend’s final request?”

“A friend is a friend, and a job is a job. You know what I’ve learned after living this long? Never do what you’re good at for free.”

“…”

Yeomyeong didn’t reply and instead turned his head to check on the Saintess and Seti.

Just as the alchemist had said, the two were slowly recovering from their sensory distortion.

That was a relief. If she had lied, there would’ve been no stomach transplant—just her death.

Looking back at the alchemist, Yeomyeong spoke.

“I’ll pay whatever the fee is. And one more thing—I have a personal request.”

“A request? Just in case you forgot, you can’t take any more elixirs.”

“Not an elixir. It’s about artificial lifeforms.”

“…Artificial lifeforms?”

As the saying goes, showing something once was better than a hundred words. Once again, Yeomyeong immediately took out the Egg Ghost from his inventory.

With a soft thud, the hollow egg-shaped head and the headless body fell onto the pristine white floor.

“Holy Molly…”

The alchemist examined the hollowed-out skull with an intrigued expression. When she retrieved the circuit chip and the cultivated liver inside, she let out a short exclamation of admiration.

“This… This is incredible. The fusion of cutting-edge Earth technology and alchemy… I never even imagined something like this.”

“Is that all you figured out?”

“No, no. I’ll need to study the circuit chip and the flesh in detail. This brain-like piece of meat is probably—”

“Not a brain. It’s a cultivated liver.”

“…A liver??”

The alchemist, her face full of shock, examined the flesh again before furrowing her brows.

“If you eat a superhuman’s liver, you’ll become a superhuman… Earthians really love their superstitions.”

Clicking her tongue, she called out to the robed man waiting outside the door.

“Take this to Room 1.”

[Understood.]

“And don’t even think about tasting it. Toss it straight into the tank. We don’t know if it’ll come back to life.”

[…]

Looking slightly frightened, the robed man quickly gathered the Egg Ghost’s corpse and hurried out of the room.

Watching him disappear down the pristine white corridor, the alchemist spoke again.

“I won’t charge you for that. Honestly, I’d pay you to let me research it because it’s interesting.”

“Do as you like.”

“Why are you so fickle? Come on, let’s act like adults, shall we?”

Unable to see through his Blood Tears Illusion, the alchemist seemed to have mistaken Yeomyeong for a middle-aged man.

It was only natural. Not only was the illusion powerful, but she likely hadn’t even considered that there could be another disguise beneath the mask.

“Come to think of it, we haven’t introduced ourselves yet.”

The alchemist opened the conversation, staring intently at Yeomyeong, expecting him to introduce himself first. However, he coolly replied.

“The one who brings it up goes first.”

“You… aren’t very popular with women, are you?”

Yeomyeong didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at the two girls still recovering from their poisoning—Seti and the Saintess, both wearing the faces of middle-aged people.

Realizing her mistake, the alchemist corrected herself.

“Let me rephrase that. You’re not very popular with young women, are you?”

“…”

How did someone like this end up as Kahal Magdu’s friend? Wouldn’t it make more sense if she was best buds with Mara instead?

Regardless of Yeomyeong’s doubts, the alchemist cleared her throat and introduced herself.

“I am the last true alchemist of this era, the master of all cochineal insects—Rashik.”

Her introduction was exaggerated and absurd, but Yeomyeong didn’t laugh.

More precisely, he couldn’t laugh.

The moment he heard the name Rashik, a certain alias struck his mind like lightning.

The Maggot Princess.

An enemy of the “protagonist” from the author’s notes in the Academy.

In the story, the Maggot Princess appears on the first day of the protagonist’s second year.

A terrorist who poisoned the entire Academy—voted by readers as the worst villain.

She even tried to drug the heroine right in front of the protagonist, ruining their relationship.

…

Encountering someone directly tied to fate for the first time in a while, Yeomyeong hesitated to speak.

Should he kill her here? But was it right to kill someone for a fate that hadn’t yet come to pass?

As he wrestled with his unsettling thoughts, Rashik spoke again.

“Hey? I gave you my name. Now it’s your turn.”

“…”

Yeomyeong clenched and unclenched his fist as he stared into those unreal pink eyes.

The distance was so short that it wouldn’t even take a second to draw his sword from the inventory and slash her neck.

Truth and lies, future and present, all swirled in his mind in that brief instant.

However…

Yeomyeong has no intention of expressing that concern through his sword. He had no intention of surrendering to fate, nor would he spill blood over a future that had yet to arrive.

Clenching his fist, he finally spoke.

“My name is Cheon Yeomyeong.”

“…?”

Rashik’s expression twisted slightly. It was a name she knew well.

“…The Dragon Liberator? No, wait, he’s just a student. Are you a namesake? It must be a hassle to have the same name as someone famous.”

“…”

Yeomyeong didn’t bother correcting her misunderstanding. Let her think what she wanted.

“By the way, do you have an alias or anything? Earthians love that stuff, don’t they? One-Man Army, Star Entrails, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t.”

“The one who has killed Kahal Magdu has no title? That’s kind of shocking. Or… is that just how the world works?”

Mumbling to herself, Rashik pulled out a notebook and pen from her bloodstained lab coat. The notebook was pristine, untouched by blood—perhaps thanks to a good lining.

“Alright then, Cheon Yeomyeong? Let’s settle the bill. Material costs will be significant. Transportation fees… eh, everything’s from the black market anyway, so that’s fine.”

Rashik suddenly shifted gears, scribbling down calculations.

Something about Starbloom Flowers, something about King’s Peak…

Writing down item after item and their prices, she finally tore out the densely filled page and handed it to Yeomyeong.

He took the paper and read it without objection. He had come prepared to empty his entire fortune—yet surprisingly, the cost wasn’t as high as he expected.

However, at the very bottom, one phrase caught his eye: [Labor Fee Not Included].

“…Labor fee?”

“Oh, that. It’s practically free.”

“Didn’t you say you never do what you’re good at for free?”

“I said practically free. Not completely free.”

After shaking her finger in response to him, Rashik beckoned him closer with a mysterious expression.

“You… must have come from a good lineage, huh?”

“What?”

“If Magdu acknowledged you that much, you can’t be just any ordinary superhuman. And judging by how much of the World Tree’s fragment you’ve consumed, you must be rich too, huh?”

“…”

Could she be asking for blood? Yeomyeong furrowed his brows slightly but thought he could spare that much.

However, the next words that came out of Rashik’s mouth were far beyond what he had expected.

“As a fee for my work, I need… exactly 30ml of your semen. Not more, not less. How about it?”

“…?”

What? Semen? Yeomyeong furrowed his brows in disgust as he scanned the price list, and just as their eyes met, Rashik looked at him confidently.

Bang!

A bullet flew from behind Yeomyeong and pierced Rashik’s thigh.

“Arrghhh!”

Unlike Yeomyeong’s clean cuts, the blessed bullet that pierced Rashik’s thigh caused her to roll on the floor, clutching the wound.

Wounds inflicted by a blessed weapon couldn’t be regenerated immediately. Yeomyeong, remembering the Maggot Princess’s weakness, turned his head indifferently.

As expected, the Saintess, who still hadn’t recovered from the poison, was blowing on the revolver’s muzzle.

When their eyes met, the Saintess shrugged her trembling shoulders and said.

“You know, right? I’ve got that sickness.”

“…The kind of sickness where you want to shoot someone every time you see a bastard?”

“Yeah, I think it’s incurable.”