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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 2: D & F (2)
The bar was filled with pounding music.
Sophia watched Baek Ho from beneath her hood, studying his face closely.
'He really does look like the Commander.'
Cigarette smoke drifted in front of his black eyes, calm and unreadable.
His dark hair was carelessly pushed back, and though his skin was clear and pale, his strong features gave him a strikingly masculine appearance.
'And the Reaper sitting across from him…'
A massive build, muscles straining beneath his skin.
Thick, jet-black prosthetic arms gleamed under the light.
His hair was neatly slicked back with oil, and the dazed expression on his face softened what might’ve been an otherwise intimidating presence.
“Heh…”
Sophia let out a chuckle without realizing it.
The two looked mismatched at first glance—but there was an odd harmony between them.
She’d heard they’d been best friends back when they were still human.
It seemed that bond hadn’t faded, even now—as a necromancer and a Reaper.
Maybe her stare had been too obvious.
Baek Ho and Frank turned their heads toward her.
Sophia quickly looked away and took a sip of the beer in front of her, pretending she hadn’t noticed.
'I should get going soon.'
She hadn’t come here for anything serious—just curiosity.
The son of the strongest necromancer alive.
A cadet once expected to lead commanders on the front lines.
And yet, he’d walked away from all of it. Just disappeared.
Baek Ho.
Until she saw him in person, she had thought of him as just another lucky man born into a prestigious bloodline.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
Maybe it was the Baek Family’s unique bond with Reapers—but the more she looked at him, the more he felt different.
Not as a woman looking at a man, but as a Reaper attuned to mana—she found herself drawn in.
If there were more Reapers with the same level of mana sensitivity she had… it would’ve made life unbearably exhausting.
Tap—
Sophia lightly moved her left hand, resting on the table.
Her embedded SmartCore activated, and a holographic augmented reality display appeared before her eyes.
Visible only to her, the interface could be operated with just her gaze and neural signals.
[Commander, I’ll return now.]
She sent the message and stepped out of the bar.
＊ ＊ ＊
Baek Ho was still looking outside the window, searching for something.
But the only things his sharp gaze caught were neon signs and staggering drunks. No target in sight.
“Hmm?”
Something soon caught his attention.
The brown-haired woman he’d seen in the bar—Sophia—was walking down the main street, her hood pulled low.
‘A Reaper, here of all places?’
Around Sophia’s heart, a dark indigo haze shimmered—an aura of mana, its hue and density revealing its strength.
It was something only Baek Ho could see—a congenital ability unique to him.
As he followed her with his eyes, something else caught his attention—and it wasn’t good.
Down at the far end of the alley, right by the wall, Frank was surrounded by three men.
“Haa…”
Baek Ho pressed his temple and stepped outside the bar.
Shhhhhh—
Rain poured down like static, heavy and humid in the air.
Baek Ho moved toward Frank, neon lights flickering off his soaked coat.
Just then, the man with dreadlocks punched Frank in the gut.
“Damn, this guy’s like a rock!”
The other two held onto his arms.
“He’s not even fully augmented—how the hell is he this tough?”
“If we try to jump him, we’ll just get our asses kicked…”
“Doesn’t matter, he’s an undead! He can’t fight back against humans!”
Frank looked down at them with his usual dazed expression.
He didn’t seem to feel any pain—nor did he seem inclined to fight back.
“How much do you think we’d get for both legs?”
“Who’s got the axe? Hand it over.”
From afar, it might’ve looked like an uncle surrounded by rowdy nephews, but the words being exchanged were cruel.
“Should we start by gouging out the eyes?”
“Great idea. Mind if I do it?”
The man with dreadlocks frowned at his companions’ chatter.
“This is why I hate working with rookies. Don’t you idiots know to check the SmartCore first? Always go for the hands.”
“Oh—right, right. Sorry, boss.”
As they were busy appraising Frank’s body, a translucent screen appeared in front of his eyes.
-[What are you doing?]
At Baek Ho’s message, Frank rolled his eyes around.
Spotting Baek Ho standing not far away, he replied.
[Thinking about whether to kill them or not.]
-[No killing.]
[What about just hitting them?]
-[They’ll die from that too. I’ll take care of it. You just sit tight.]
Baek Ho stepped through the rain.
Sensing someone approaching, the men turned their heads.
“Huh?”
“Yo, that was fast.”
While the two looked unfazed, the one with the dreadlocks grimaced.
“Shit… I told you to move faster…”
With his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, Baek Ho sent Frank another message.
[No need to make this messy with punks like these. Just use this.]
He pulled a revolver from his pocket and aimed it at the men.
“If you don’t wanna die, keep your han—”
Click—
The man with dreadlocks twisted his right hand downward, revealing a gun barrel.
The other two pulled out submachine guns from inside their coats and aimed them at Baek Ho.
“......”
A message from Frank popped up in Baek Ho’s view—
-[Hehehehehehehe]
Frank’s lips curled like he was holding back a laugh.
“Goddamn it.”
Baek Ho’s brow twitched.
Being mocked by Frank—who he usually called an idiot—hit surprisingly hard.
He forced a calm expression as he spoke.
“Put your weapons away. I’m giving you a chance.”
The three men snorted.
“What the hell is this idiot saying?”
“Should we just kill him?”
The man with dreadlocks shook his head at his companions’ suggestion.
“Killing a human just makes things messy. Let’s just—”
Bang!
Baek Ho’ fired his revolver.
A bullet struck the man with dreadlocks in the neck, spilling blood.
“Shit!”
“Y-You fucking psycho!”
The remaining two pulled their triggers.
Rounds erupted from the muzzles of their submachine guns.
But something blocked the bullets—metal screeched, sparks flew.
Their eyes widened as they looked up.
Frank had reached out his right arm, intercepting the gunfire.
“Wh-What the…?”
“T-That’s…”
They weren’t shocked because the bullets were stopped.
It was what his arm had become—a rounded shield completely covered in metal.
A deep, electric blue glow pulsed through the circuitry where power should’ve been flowing.
“T-That thing!”
“Necroshell!”
A mechanical prosthetic powered by mana.
Having a Necroshell meant only one thing—
An Awakened Undead.
A Reaper.
“A Reaper…? Here…?”
Ordinarily, undead couldn’t harm humans.
But Reapers were different.
They could kill.
“Frank’s a liiittle bit mad now.”
“P-Please don’t kill us!”
“We’re sorry! We really didn’t know!”
The two dropped their guns and threw themselves to the ground.
“We didn’t know you were a Reaper!”
“Please, just spare us!”
Baek Ho looked down at them with a blank expression.
“What gang are you affiliated with?”
“We’re not in a gang!”
“Then what?”
“We’re just drifters, trying to scrape by day to day!”
Baek Ho gave them a once-over.
Other than the guns they’d dropped, their clothes were rags.
Completely different from the guy with dreadlocks, who wore clean clothes and had mechanical implants all over his body.
“That guy was your boss?”
He pointed with his chin toward the body on the ground.
The man with dreadlocks didn’t move.
His eyes were lifeless, blood from his neck mixing with rainwater and spreading across the pavement.
“Y-Yes! He told us what to do!”
“We were just following orders!”
“Is that so?”
Baek Ho scratched his side with the muzzle of his revolver.
“You just confessed, with your own mouths.”
Baek Ho reached toward the man with dreadlocks.
From his palm, black mist seeped out and coiled around the man’s neck.
With a faint sizzle, the embedded bullet was drawn out, and the wound began to close.
“Ghk! Kekhk!”
The man they’d assumed was dead suddenly shot up, choking and clawing at his throat.
The two men on the ground gaped in stunned silence.
“H-Holy shit!”
“What the hell?!”
‘A Reaper and a necromancer? Are you serious right now?’
That alone was shocking, but the real issue was something else.
No matter how skilled a necromancer was, bringing someone back from the dead wasn’t as easy as snapping your fingers—it took a complicated ritual.
Which could only mean one thing:
The guy with the dreadlocks had been undead from the start.
“I-I’ve been kissing up to a damn undead this whole time?!”
“No wonder he always avoided humans!”
“Shut it.”
Frank smacked the back of both their heads.
The blow knocked them out cold, and they slumped forward.
Groaning, the man with dreadlocks rose unsteadily to his feet, his body still trembling as if something had just let go.
“P-Please, have mercy—”
“Yeah, yeah. This is you, right?”
Baek Ho extended his left hand. A hologram projected from the back of it—a wanted notice, but without a mugshot.
“Charged with attempted murder, sentenced to undeath. Later served as regular infantry, then deserted. Current charges: abduction and destruction of undead, illegal prosthetics trafficking and brokering. Impressive résumé.”
“T-That’s not me…”
Baek Ho raised his revolver and pointed it at the man’s forehead.
Or more precisely, at the heart of the undead behind it—his Life Vessel.
Destroy that, and not even the best necromancer could bring him back.
“Let’s just kill you and check.”
“W-Wait—!”
He stopped mid-sentence.
‘No way this guy would really shoot. Not when the bounty would drop by half. Right?’
But then he locked eyes with Baek Ho.
And something in that gaze made his blood run cold.
It was like staring into a dimensional rift—pitch-black, endless. The kind of thing you didn’t come back from.
At that moment, he knew—Baek Ho wasn’t bluffing. That trigger was as good as pulled.
“...Y-Yes! That’s me! Please, don’t kill me!”
Baek Ho smirked slightly at the desperate confession.
“Good. I’ll let you live.”
“Thank you!”
“But.”
He tapped the man’s right arm with his finger.
“This Gunarm, I’m taking it.”
“...Huh?”
“I’ve been staring out that damn window for two days just to catch you. Let’s call it payment for the drinks.”
＊ ＊ ＊
Rumble—
The whole place shook as a train rumbled past the window.
The building’s lower floors were right next to the rail line, so the noise was no joke.
“A fee, huh? Ridiculous.”
Baek Ho hung his black leather coat on the rack.
“Yeah, daylight robbery.”
Frank muttered.
He took off his sleeveless long coat and draped it over the only window.
Only then did the noise from outside finally quiet down.
“How long do we have to keep chasing around bottom-feeders like this... Tsk.”
Baek Ho dropped the blood-soaked Gunarm onto the desk.
The impact knocked a nameplate off the corner, sending it clattering to the floor.
Etched on it were the words: Fixer D.
“Well, at least rent’s paid. Time to earn some grocery mon—”
“Frank’s tired.”
Frank collapsed onto the mattress shoved into the corner of the room.
Baek Ho shot him a glare, then dropped onto the torn-up couch beside the desk.
The whole office amounted to a single window, a desk, a mattress, and a torn-up couch.
Just one human. One undead.
“Fine, we’ll rest a bit and the—”
“Baek Ho.”
“What?”
“How about we quit this fixer gig.”
“Why?”
“Business sucks.”
“It’ll get better.”
“Then how about we go outside the city? Hunt monsters and sell the parts.”
“No.”
Baek Ho lit a cigarette, the filter pressed between his lips.
“With our skillset, we wouldn’t last a week out there.”
“Oh, come on.”
“This isn’t school anymore. We’re just another run-of-the-mill necromancer and a dime-a-dozen Reaper. You know it. You’ve seen it.”
“......”
Frank couldn’t argue with that.
“So what now? We’re barely scraping by.”
“Right? Maybe we just pray all the fancy fixers upstairs kick the bucket.”
“What about a broker? You said necromancers were in demand. And—”
“Doesn’t matter if I want to or not. We need the cash.”
Baek Ho pulled a large box out from under the desk.
Inside, it was full of plush dolls that looked like puppies.
“Let’s get started.”
He grabbed one and placed it on the table. After breathing dark mana into it, the doll blinked to life.
These animated dolls were the latest trend among city residents—and a top side gig for necromancers.
Beep—
He turned off the doll and handed it to Frank, who pouted before folding a cardboard box lying nearby. With his massive hands, he squeezed the doll inside and taped it shut with effort.
“It’s too small. Frank is sad.”
“How about jjajangmyeon for lunch tomorrow?”
At those words, the corners of Frank’s mouth twitched.
“…Okay.”
Scratch—Scratch—
For a while, the tiny office was filled with the sound of doll-making.
Then—footsteps.
A customer had arrived.
“Oh!”
Frank jumped up, tossing the box aside. He bolted to the door, yanked it open, and shouted.
“Welcome! Fixers D and F—We do everything but murder!”
Baek Ho stood up too, snuffing out his cigarette as he turned to greet their visitor.
And right then, a woman with brown hair peeked out from beside Frank.
“Is this the fixer office?”
Large eyes. A hint of a smile. No visible mechanical parts—her appearance was clean, unmodified.
It was Sophia—the Reaper from the bar.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Hestia
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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