Chapter 53 - Neonthe Mirage
Ranked 9th in the world — Neon, the Dungeon Merchant.
A figure so rare he was almost legendary: a merchant, a non-combat class, who climbed all the way to the summit known as the "Sky Beyond Sky."
He was a strange man, a person who carried many different titles at once.
—Neon is ruthless.
When it came to money, Neon was more vicious and sharp-eyed than anyone.
It was said that those who borrowed money from him often experienced horrors that would haunt even their dreams.
Thus, among veteran players, a secret but widespread rule existed:
No matter what, never borrow money from Neon.
Even the prices he charged inside dungeons were absurd.
An absolute dungeon extortionist.
Everything Neon sold was outrageously expensive.
Even a low-grade potion was sold at a price high enough to buy a top-grade potion in a normal village.
’The worst part was... you still had to buy it.’
No matter how expensive it was, players kept coming back to him.
Because few merchants dared to personally make house calls into the deep end of high-level dungeons.
When your consumables ran out, your gear was battered and broken, and you were isolated in desperate circumstances —
what other choice did you have?
Life was more valuable than gold.
Better to get ripped off than to fail a dungeon raid and have your character deleted.
—No, Neon is reliable.
Ironically, Neonwas also known as someone... trustworthy.
His deals were always fair, always honest, always based on mutual trust.
So much so that even among the oldest, most seasoned players, some would refuse to buy or sell unless it was with Neon.
As a merchant, Neon’s credibility was nearly absolute.
To be fair, Jhin also acknowledged that much.
Neon’s items were superior in quality compared to anyone else’s.
His inventory was so vast it felt as though he had everything imaginable.
The most astonishing thing was that he even carried "quest material items" —
the kinds of things that players themselves were still grinding and strugglling to collect.
’Though they were damn expensive.’
But the quality justified the price.
Neon even offered rigorous after-sales service.
For an extra fee, you could purchase the "Neon Care Plus" insurance plan, and he would issue you a one-year warranty with your item.
’Still, no matter what, the nickname that stuck to Neon was a "Mirage."’
In Exodia, there was no land that Neon could not reach.
No matter how dangerous, no matter how isolated the dungeon, if there was a customer, Neonwould somehow appear.
Running out of HP potions and trapped deep within a labyrinth?
Neon would pop up from nowhere, sell you supplies — and then vanish again like smoke.
How could one lone merchant do all that?
He would exist — and then he would not.
He would not exist — and then he would.
Cruel, reliable, omnipresent.
That was why veterans called him the Mirage.
’No — there’s one more thing.’
Before the world collapsed, Neonhad committed a grave sin against Jhin .
Through a trade scam, he had stolen a precious special item from him.
That damned bastard.
Jhin furrowed his brow and asked coldly,
«That scamming son of a bitch — he’s really here?»
As he smiled thinly, a faint but dangerous killing intent began to leak out.
Facing that, Jerryinstinctively began to tremble, not even knowing why.
«So where is Neon?» Jhin asked, his voice growing sharper.
But Jerry couldn’t answer.
His lips quivered uncontrollably.
His complexion drained until he was ghostly pale.
Jhin , sensing something was wrong, quickly grabbed Song’s jaw to force it open—
and was instantly hit by a sharp smell.
A sickly sweet almond scent.
’Cyanide?’
It was the notorious poison, cyanide — the kind you only ever saw in detective movies — lethal even with a single breath.
Foaming at the mouth, Jerry crumpled to the floor.
And it wasn’t just Song.
Across the room, the other traders were either getting cut down by Caleb, or — when trapped — choosing suicide themselves without hesitation.
It was something completely beyond Jhin ’s expectations.
He shouted urgently,
«Stop them!»
«Huh?» Caleb blinked, stunned.
«Don’t let them kill themselves! Block them!»
Only then did the party realize what was happening, rushing toward the traders, trying desperately to force their mouths open.
But it was already too late.
Every trader had already chosen death.
Had they installed suicide capsules in their mouths?
Or was there some contract that compelled them to die under certain conditions?
Cornered, the black-market traders had all chosen mass suicide — and the situation turned hopeless.
TAAANG!
A final magic bullet shot through the air, and the last of the goblin boys fell, lifeless.
Meanwhile, Caleb, who had been dragging the corpses together for inspection, shook his head with a voice full of despair.
«They’re all dead.»
Dead men tell no tales.
And the dead men’s inventories could not be looted.
Searching the bodies with a sour face, Luke muttered,
«But why would they go this far?»
Jhin , too, found it puzzling.
What could have possibly driven them to choose death so thoroughly?
Unless they had been forced to by some kind of binding contract.
...Wait a second.
Looking over the fallen traders, a realization hit Jhin like a hammer.
This had been far too easy.
«They didn’t commit suicide,» Jhin said, voice dropping low.
«What?» Luke turned, confused.
«They didn’t die. They just abandoned their bodies.»
Jhin turned to the party, scanning them sharply.
«Did any of you see a system message when you killed them?»
«What message?» Caleb asked.
«You know — when you kill another player or a monster, you usually get a kill reward or a system notification.»
Only then did Caleb realize and shake his head wildly.
Luke, checking the logs, did the same.
They had clearly stabbed their hearts, speared them straight through —
but no kill confirmation message had popped up.
’That’s impossible.’
They were red players.
They were monsters.
Upon death, they should have yielded experience points and items — without fail.
Yet no such process had occurred.
There was only one conclusion that could be drawn from this.
«As I thought,» Jhin muttered grimly.
«They’re not dead. They just discarded their bodies.»
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