Jin-woo stood motionless in the blood-soaked square, surrounded by more than twenty pairs of eyes burning with fanatical devotion. Mad Dog Leon remained kneeling at his feet, head bowed in reverence.
A cold blue timer floated in front of him.
[Time Remaining to Secure Territory: 71 hours 56 minutes]
(Seventy-two hours?! That's all I get?! Those guys who just ran away were small fry. If a real mid-tier syndicate or an assassins' guild finds out the new boss of Crow Creek is just some unlucky Korean guy who got hit by a truck, they'll chop me into minced pork before sunrise!)
He had to move. Now.
"Return to base," Jin-woo ordered, his voice low, deep, and ice-cold—like the whisper of the Grim Reaper himself.
Leon's scarred face split into a manic grin. "As you command, Boss! These worms aren't worthy of your time. Form up! Escort the Boss back to the stronghold!"
The walk back to the stronghold was its own special kind of hell.
Crow Creek wasn't a district. It was a rotting medieval slum drowning in its own filth. The streets were nothing but ankle-deep mud mixed with horse dung, rotten vegetables, and things Jin-woo refused to look at too closely. The stench of woodsmoke, open sewers, and unwashed bodies assaulted his nose with every breath.
Dilapidated wooden shacks leaned dangerously against each other. From the dark gaps behind torn rags, hundreds of eyes watched him—hungry, fearful, and desperate.
Jin-woo forced his back straight, hands clasped behind him, and walked with slow, arrogant steps like an untouchable crime lord. Leon and his men formed a tight diamond formation around him, weapons drawn, glaring at anyone who dared stare too long.
Inside, however, he was screaming.
(I just had ten billion won! Ten. Billion! I could've bought a luxury penthouse in Gangnam and still had enough left to eat Grade-A Hanwoo every day for the rest of my life! Instead, I'm trudging through actual horse shit in a world with no running water, no internet, and no hospitals! If I get a papercut here, I'll die of tetanus for sure!)
By the time they reached the stronghold—a ugly two-story stone-and-wood building with a half-broken sign that read "Crow Creek Manor," which was really just a filthy tavern that smelled of sour beer and dried blood—Jin-woo's mind was completely drained.
He climbed the stairs to the second-floor office. The moment the door clicked shut behind Leon, his body betrayed him.
He collapsed face-first onto the heavy oak desk, both hands violently messing up his perfectly styled hair.
"I almost died again… I really almost died again, damn it!"
After forcing himself to breathe until the trembling stopped, he finally opened the system menu. The first thing he checked was his status. He wanted to know what kind of godlike power this body possessed—the same body that had made hardened gangsters flee in terror just by standing there.
[Host Status]
Name: Ryu Jin-woo
Title: Boss of Crow Creek (Effect: Passive Low-to-Mid Intimidation Aura)
Strength (STR): 5 (Equivalent to an average unfit adult male)
Agility (AGI): 6 (Barely enough to outrun a small dog)
Jin-woo's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
(What the hell?! That terrifying aura was just a title effect?!)
He slammed the desk with a loud bang.
(STR 5?! This is the stat of a basement-dwelling nerd! If that giant boss hadn't chickened out earlier, I would've been decapitated on the spot!)
Death was breathing down his neck, and the 72-hour quest was already counting down. He had no time to feel sorry for himself.
The only thing he could rely on in this world wasn't muscle.
It was money.
His trembling finger swiped straight to the gacha menu. The limited banner glowed with seductive purple-gold light:
[Limited Banner: Descent of the Hell Sovereign (SSR Rate Up!)]
Cost: 10,000 Premium Coins per 10 rolls
"10,000 coins per ten rolls… I have ten million. That's a thousand pulls," Jin-woo muttered, a deranged smile spreading across his face. It wasn't the smile of a cool mafia boss. It was the smile of a psychotic whale ready to smash the gacha with his entire life savings.
He began spamming [Roll x10] like a man possessed.
Clatter… Clatter… Clatter…
No golden light. No epic effects. Only pathetic trash materialized on the desk.
Three N-Rank Rusted Iron Nails… Five Common Bandages… One half-rotten apple…
His left eye twitched violently.
He kept rolling.
Fifty pulls. A hundred pulls.
The once-pristine oak desk quickly turned into a garbage dump: cracked wooden mugs, suspicious R-rank health potions that smelled like goblin urine, a single boot with a hole in it, and seventeen loaves of moldy N-rank bread.
Jin-woo's breathing grew ragged. Cold sweat ran down his spine.
(Are you serious?! I dumped my entire life savings into this and all I get is actual trash?! Is the pity system broken?!)
Just as his finger was about to slam the button for the two-hundredth roll—
A flash of crimson light burst from the screen.
A small item materialized directly into his hand. A blood-red emblem engraved with sinister reaper patterns.
[System Notification: Congratulations! You have obtained 'SSR Contract Emblem: Blood Queen (Isabella)']
[Note: This world does not allow creation of life from nothing. The system is initiating 'Fate Intervention.' Your SSR character is currently en route to you via maximum-level coincidence… Please await delivery.]
"Huh? Fate Intervention? Await delivery? Is this a fucking courier service?!"
Jin-woo gripped the emblem tightly, about to curse the system for not working like the game, when
BOOOOM!!!
A violent explosion shook the entire building from the first floor. The wooden floor trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. Screams, clashing steel, and the wet sound of tearing flesh erupted from the tavern below.
Jin-woo's heart nearly stopped.
(What the hell now?! The enemies are attacking before the 72 hours are even up?!)
On shaking legs, he crept to the second-floor balcony and carefully peered over the railing.
The scene below made him forget how to breathe.
The tavern had become a slaughterhouse.
More than ten masked assassins in black leather lay dead or dying in pools of their own blood. The last three were desperately charging a lone figure standing calmly in the middle of the carnage.
A flash of long silver hair.
A massive crimson scythe sang through the air.
In one fluid motion, it sliced through the first assassin's sword, arm, and torso. The second man didn't even get to scream before the blade reversed and cleaved him from shoulder to waist. The third tried to flee—only for the scythe to hook his ankle, yank him back, and split him in two with a brutal overhead chop.
The woman didn't even look winded.
She wore a tattered black dress, her blood-red eyes glowing like cursed rubies. With lazy elegance, she spun the giant scythe once, flinging fresh blood off the blade in a graceful crimson arc.
This was Isabella—the legendary reaper of the underworld.
She flicked the blood from her scythe in annoyance, having only ducked into this rundown tavern to escape her pursuers and accidentally massacred them all. Slowly, she raised her crimson eyes to the second-floor balcony.
Their gazes locked.
The atmosphere grew suffocatingly tense.
Isabella narrowed her eyes. (This man… He didn't even flinch at the bloodbath. He stands there with his hands behind his back, radiating overwhelming pressure. Did he deliberately lure my pursuers here to test me?)
Meanwhile, inside Jin-woo's head:
(Holy shiiiiiiit! Who the hell is that scythe woman?! She's carving people up like vegetables! And why is she staring at me?! I didn't do anything wrong!)
His legs were frozen in fear. His sweat-slick fingers trembled uncontrollably, accidentally letting go of the object he was holding.
Clink… Clink… Clack.
The SSR Contract Emblem: Blood Queen slipped from his hand, fell from the balcony, bounced across the bloodstained floor, and rolled to a perfect stop right in front of Isabella's boots.
The Blood Queen stared down at the glowing red medallion. Her eyes widened in shock.
It was the legendary emblem of the Hell Sovereign—the ancient symbol of absolute dominion over the underworld.
She looked back up at the man on the balcony.
Jin-woo remained perfectly still (because he was too shocked to move), staring down at her with an empty, emotionless expression (because his soul had already left his body).
In Isabella's eyes, it was the most domineering declaration possible. This man didn't fear her blood-soaked scythe in the slightest. He had simply tossed the Contract Emblem at her feet as if saying, 'Not bad. Want to become my piece?'
A slow, beautiful, yet dangerously twisted smile bloomed on her lips.
She gracefully dropped to one knee in the pool of fresh blood, lowered her head, and rested the giant scythe beside her.
"What a magnificent setup… Pretending this was nothing but a filthy tavern just to lure me here and test my worth." Her voice was sweet like honey laced with poison. "Isabella gladly accepts this Contract Emblem… My Lord."
From the balcony, Jin-woo could only blink rapidly.
(…My hand was just sweaty. But… we survived, right?)
[System Notification: SSR Delivery Complete!]
[Isabella's Loyalty has started at 100% (Obsession Level)]