Chapter 97: The Gacha
A bargain roasted meat stall.
Five succubi were crowded around a table, devouring their meal with a ferocity that bordered on the feral.
"Delicious! Gods, it's so good!" Kula spoke through a mouth crammed with meat, grease smearing her cheeks as she let out a muffled moan of joy. "Scarlett! You're a genius! We're finally eating real food!"
Scarlett puffed out her chest, brandishing a stripped chicken bone like a scepter. Her face was a mask of triumph. "Of course! This is but the first step on our golden path!"
"Once [Succubus Dreams] scales up, we'll eat roasted meat every day! Every meal!"
"All hail the Chairwoman!"
"It seems the days of waking only to eat and eating only to sleep are finally within reach," Mona murmured, her eyes glazed with a vision of a lazy future.
Just as they were sinking into their poultry-induced fantasies, a shadow fell across their table. It was Hans.
"Last night's dream... was quite the experience," Hans remarked.
Seeing their primary investor, Scarlett scrambled to her feet, frantically wiping grease from her mouth. "Boss! You're back! Were you satisfied? Did you feel your soul ascending to a higher plane of existence?"
Hans didn't answer immediately. He looked at the mountain of bones on their table. A single silver coin, completely liquidated into grease and gristle.
"Is your business model simply to earn one meal and then starve until the next?"
Scarlett's smile faltered. "Well... we were celebrating our grand opening! It was a mandatory team-building exercise!"
Hans shook his head and slapped a document onto the table. "I have a proposal."
The five succubi held their collective breath.
"The Sunflower Merchant Guild owns a vacant storefront in a prime location within the Commercial District. I am prepared to lease it to you for three months. Rent: Zero."
The girls stared. A free shop?
"What... what's the catch?" Scarlett asked cautiously. She had learned enough from Hans to know that "free" was the most expensive word in the human language.
"Simple." Hans held up two fingers. "For those three months, the Sunflower Merchant Guild takes a twenty percent cut of all Succubus Dreams revenue."
"That's... it?"
"That's it."
Scarlett felt her heart racing. This wasn't just a proposal; it was a gift from the Spirits.
"Deal!" Scarlett shouted before he could change his mind, grabbing a quill and signing the contract in a blur of motion.
"Excellent." Hans retrieved the parchment. "You may move in this afternoon. I expect you to bring that... specific brand of 'joy' to more residents of Iron Fortress."
With that, Hans turned and walked away. He had a much larger problem to solve.
Watching him go, Kula poked Scarlett's arm. "When he said 'joy,' do you think he meant it in a good way? Why did it feel like he was making fun of us?"
Scarlett slapped Kula on the back of the head. "Don't overthink the details! We have a storefront! CHEER, DAMN IT!"
"OHHHHHH!!"
Five succubi erupted into a deafening cheer, earning a look of pure disdain from the roasted meat vendor.
Hans walked through the streets of Iron Fortress.
Currently, the human economy was flowing beautifully. Merchants brought goods, carried away coin, and left behind taxes. The capital's economy was a river of living water.
But the undead?
Hans watched the patrolling Skeleton Soldiers. Their money hadn't moved. The undead had zero interest in human commodities. They didn't need soft beds, they didn't need gourmet meals, and they certainly didn't care for silk finery. Their gold sat in their pockets like stagnant stones.
This was a gargantuan, untapped market. How do you convince a dead man to part with his coin?
The image of last night's dream resurfaced in Hans's mind. That absurd "King" dream had happened because Hans had requested "infinite wealth." The dream was centered on a symbol of power.
What is the core of an undead soul? Hans wondered.
He stopped, looking up at the heavily fortified Lord's Mansion where Greed resided.
Loyalty.
Loyalty to the Evernight Empire. Adoration for the Supreme Sovereign. Reverence for the Seven Generals. That was their "faith."
Hans's lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. He knew exactly what to do. A brand-new plan, meticulously tailored for the psychology of the dead, took shape in his mind.
The Carpenter's Workshop.
The middle-aged artisan who had once been tricked into a contract by Lily's "innocent" smile was currently carving a wooden owl.
"I need you to build something for me," Hans's voice rang out from the doorway.
The carpenter looked up, his expression a mixture of respect and lingering wariness. While he had been "press-ganged" into the guild, his income had indeed skyrocketed. Hans's "limited edition" trinkets had given his craft a purpose.
"Chairman. What are your instructions?" The carpenter set his tools down.
"I need carvings," Hans said, walking into the shop and picking up a small wooden bird. "But not these trifles."
Hans pulled a sheet of parchment from his vest, displaying several blurred silhouettes. "I need eight statues. Eight unique masterpieces."
He pointed to the silhouette in the center. "This one is the Supreme Sovereign of Evernight."
The carpenter's hand gave a violent shake.
Hans pointed to the seven figures surrounding him. "And these are the Seven Great Generals. Pride, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Gluttony, and Lust."
Hans's voice dropped to a low, commanding register. "I require perfection. Each statue must be carved from the finest heartwood. The detail must be flawless. I want every undead who gazes upon these to feel the absolute majesty of their leaders."
Sweat began to bead on the carpenter's brow. Carving the Sovereign and the Generals? If I slip a chisel, I'll be purified into ash.
"Chairman... I... I don't dare..."
"Money is no object," Hans interrupted. "I will pay you a price that will make your grandchildren rich. Furthermore, this isn't a chore. it's your ticket to immortality. Your work will be known across the Empire."
The carpenter went silent. He knew he couldn't refuse.
"And one more thing," Hans added. "I need a Lottery Box. Wooden, with a mechanical lever. One pull, one tag falls out. And I need one thousand small wooden tags."
"Nine hundred and ninety-two shall be blank. The remaining eight shall be engraved with the unique sigils of the eight Leaders."
The carpenter listened, having no idea what Hans was planning. But he nodded all the same.
"Three days," Hans stated. "I expect the prototype by then."
Three Days Later.
In the very heart of Iron Fortress, a brand-new stall appeared overnight.
A long table was draped in black velvet. Upon it sat eight lifelike wooden statues, arranged with religious care. The statue of Kaito sat in the center, his expression radiating a cold, sovereign authority. The Seven Generals flanked him, each captured in a pose that exuded power.
Beside the table stood a massive wooden board. Written in the boldest, most eye-catching script was:
[THE CALL OF EVERNIGHT — PROVE YOUR LOYALTY!]
[ONE DRAW: TEN COPPER COINS!]
[COLLECT THE SIGIL — TAKE YOUR COMMANDER HOME!]
[LIMIT: ONE STATUE PER MODEL PER DAY! SUBJECT TO AVAILABILITY!]
Hans stood behind the counter, wearing a benevolent, welcoming smile. Sinclair and Tate stood beside him as "Sales Associates."
It didn't take long for the bizarre stall to catch the attention of the undead. A Skeleton Knight trotted to a halt, the Soul Fire in its sockets pulsing violently as it locked onto the statue of Kaito.
"Human. Explain this," the Knight intoned.
Hans cleared his throat, his voice dripping with practiced reverence. "Honored soldier! The Sunflower Guild has launched this initiative specifically to celebrate the infinite loyalty of our citizens! For the small tribute of ten copper coins, you have a chance to draw a Sigil of Conviction from this sacred box. Should you succeed, you may claim the statue as a physical testament to your devotion!"
Hans pointed to the mysterious gacha box.
The Skeleton Knight looked at the statue, then at the box. Ten copper coins? To the Knight, that was pocket change. But to own a likeness of the Master...
That was a glory beyond words.
The Knight reached into its armor, pulled out ten coppers, and placed them on the table with a sharp clink.
"I shall draw. Once."
The Skeleton Knight reached for the lever. Around them, more undead began to gather, their hollow gazes fixed on the spinning wooden tags.
The smile on Hans's face widened. He knew the Undead Empire's first "money printing machine" was officially online. And he was the one with his hand on the switch.
Of course, Hans didn't tell them one small detail: he hadn't actually put the Sovereign's sigil into the box today. Every day, at least one statue would remain on the table—a lonely, "unobtainable" bait to ensure the undead returned tomorrow with more coin.
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