Even though the black iron dwarf raised his doubts, the man in the trench coat unhesitatingly mentioned that he had taken out a Death Loan.
As casually as the words came out, the harder they hit the surrounding. Instantly, the space in front of the tavern cleared out.
While the effects of a Death Loan become visible to everyone near the end, making it easier for bystanders to avoid this plague-like figure and intensifying the borrower's despair, the crowd had been too engrossed in watching the game earlier to notice the faint shadow that covered the man.
That shadow was indeed the mark of a Death Loan, and it was clear that this loan had entered its final settlement phase. Getting involved with someone in this state could easily drag you into the final settlement process as well.
The black iron dwarf quickly retracted his comment and made it clear he had no association with the man. He earnestly prayed to the God of Death, stating he hadn't seen the shadow at all.
"So-sorry, I don't who he is, and I have no idea what this man just said. I just wanted to play before and that's it. Now I remember, my wife is pregnant. Out of my way, I don't want to stay here enymore."
The dwarf then turned to the trench coat man and, but this time with fear and respect. He declared that since the man was about to die, he had earned the right to use the machine for the next few hours.
The trench coat man was satisfied with this outcome and turned back to the game, diving into one final, intense battle.
An hour later, he stepped away from the machine.
"I don't have much time left, but I kept my promise."
Although he appeared earnest, he was lying and everyone knew the truth—he wasn't out of time. He was out of money to buy more game coins.
"There's still a bit of regret, but life is meant to have some regrets, isn't it?"
The man told the crowd about the dangers of taking out a Death Loan. His life had been decent enough, but because he wanted to live better, he had taken the loan. It was the typical story of someone seeking a shortcut, trying to defy fate.
Though he had reached the peak of his life for a short time, the consequences came crashing down: his child was crushed to death, his company went bankrupt, he was deep in debt with a terminal illness, and his wife had been stolen away by a literal minotaur.
Was it worth it?
For a moment, the crowd outside the tavern, made up of various species, was moved to tears by his story.
Although everyone agreed he deserved his fate, they also acknowledged that his life had been truly tragic.
Only the minotaurs in the crowd who loudly protested, insisting that not all minotaurs were homewreckers. "Not every minotaur is like that. Stop blaming us."
"Anyway, folks, I'm off to kill myself. If anyone manages to beat level seven, let me know at the public cemetery. I've already bought a plot—it's at [XXX]."
Confessing his last words, the man left, though he no longer had the desire to kill himself. In fact, he suddenly felt hopeful about life. But due to the Death Loan, he still had to die.
However, he no longer wanted to jump into a filthy canal and give up his life.
Now, he wanted to die in a good mood. Rumor has it that those who take out a Death Loan don't truly die in the material world. Instead, their souls become servants of the God of Death, like managers tasked with luring other desperate souls into taking out Death Loans.
The man in the trench coat thought to himself that if that were true, he might get a chance to return to this world.
And when he did, he would definitely beat the rest of the levels.
As these thoughts raced in his mind, he pulled out a flintlock pistol and pressed it against his head.
With trembling hand and a quivering eyelid he stood, recollecting his life.
Finally, taking a deep breath he steadied his hands and pulled the trigger.
Bang
With a loud bang, the life of the man-in-trench-coat came to an end...
Or at least, that's what was supposed to happen.
The man's tightly closed eyes slowly opened.
"Huh?"
He hadn't reset; he wasn't dead. In fact, he was completely unharmed, though the pistol was still pressed firmly against his temple.
The bullet had been fired—so where did it go?
———
"When a person falls from the peak of their life to the lowest point, the value difference in positive and negative emotions generated is the essence of Death Value. But if that person suddenly finds hope again, if they no longer wish to die but are forced to because of external reasons, then the value of their death diminishes significantly."
"It's like a gourmet meal suddenly turning into a pile of dung."
"So that's why, even though he was supposed to die, he lived. It's that faint hope and satisfaction at the end that tainted his soul."
Preventing the contamination of the soul pool with low-value souls was, of course, a good thing.
"So, is this newfound joy in death coming from here?"
A young boy in a black trench coat and a tall hat appeared outside the tavern. He looked no older than fourteen, with black eyes and curly golden hair.
His attire seemed ill-fitting, the black trench coat was clearly too large for him, and the tall hat hid half of his face with the shadow. Although, a creepy smile can be faintly seen beyond the dark shadows creeping from his figure, similar to the mark of Shadow Of Death.
———
Outside the tavern, the hustle and bustle resumed.
The young vampire lady, Maya, had quickly started charging people based on how long they played the game.
Though the crowd grumbled and cursed her for being a bloodsucker, it affected her a little. Rather, she accepted it as a compliment.
"There's only one machine. Once we get a new one, prices will go back to normal... What? You're saying I'm sucking your blood? Thank you for the compliment, I'm a pure-blood vampire.
Maya flashed a bright, radiant smile.
But she hadn't set the prices too high; in fact, they were quite reasonable—twenty minutes of gameplay cost less than a pint of beer.
Charging by the minute was just a strategy. The real goal was attracting customers. Maya understood this perfectly. The machine itself had almost no cost, so no matter how much she charged, she profited. And this, after all, was exactly what the god had asked her to do.
It was an exciting new project, rather a change. For someone like her, who had left her original clan, earning the favor of a new god meant a chance to ascend to the level of an Apostle.
"Get off the machine."
Under this time-based charging system, the crowd began harboring resentment toward those hogging the machine, especially the amateur players.
The black iron dwarf, who had been cursing the trench coat man earlier, now found himself the target of the same jeers.
"Well played! Now never play again."
The black iron dwarf's face turned red. Although he had mocked the trench coat man for his poor gameplay, his own performance was even worse. He fumbled around for twenty minutes, barely making it to level three, and just as he was getting into it, his time ran out.
Furious, he hadn't even had the chance to add more coins before the crowd pushed him away from the machine.
"Wait a second. Could you give me this turn?"
Just as the next player, a kobold, was about to insert his coin, a small hand gently pressed down on his.
"What? Kid, you trying to take my spot? I've been waiting forever."
The kobold bared his teeth.
The handsome boy in the black trench coat smiled politely and, under the kobold's angry gaze, tossed out a gold coin.
Instantly, the kobold's fury disappeared.
"See? This was your spot, true. So how did it end up becoming my seat?"