Judul: "DEATH MORTGAGE: The Hunter's Liquidation"

Chapter 5: The Hero Born from a Lie

An hour had passed since the Shadow Weaver's death.

Outside the entrance of the A-Class Dungeon Crying Cave, the chaos had transformed into a media circus. Dozens of news vans from national TV stations blocked the highway. The red and blue flashing lights of Hunter Association patrol cars swept across the wet asphalt. Camera drones flew about with the annoying hum of a swarm of iron flies, all fighting for the best angle.

In the middle of a siege of microphones and blinding camera flashes, Bagas stood with his head down. His sharp face was deliberately smeared with dust and soot, his golden armor left scuffed. The man was putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

"We… we tried our best," Bagas's voice trembled. He dabbed the corner of his eye, wiping away a fake tear that never fell. His other hand was wrapped around the shoulder of Siska, the Healer, who was currently wrapped in an emergency blanket, shivering in fear. She was partly traumatized, and partly terrified her career was over.

"Didn't the White Tiger team detect the anomaly from the start, Mr. Bagas?" a female reporter with short hair shouted, shoving a recorder so close it almost poked him in the nose. "There are rumors this was purely the scouting team's negligence!"

Bagas lifted his face, looking at the camera with a facade of righteous indignation. "Don't twist the facts. This was an internal Dungeon Break. An S-Class monster, a Shadow Weaver, appeared from a hidden room when the wall collapsed. You all know an S-Class is a natural disaster! We lost Reza, our best Tank."

Bagas took a deep breath, looking down again as if fighting back profound grief. "And one porter… Han Jihan. He wasn't a licensed Hunter, but he was a brave young man. He sacrificed his life, holding back the monster so Siska and I could get out and sound the evacuation alarm. I swear, in the name of the White Tiger Guild, we will cover all of his funeral expenses."

The reporters murmured, busy taking notes on the tragic hero narrative Bagas had just sold them. Bagas's scenario was perfect. He had twisted his cowardly betrayal into a tale of heroic sacrifice that would boost his Guild's reputation by morning.

However, that scenario fell apart the moment the sirens from the Association's command post split the air.

"The Gate is opening! Rescue team is coming out!" a field commander yelled through a megaphone.

The focus of dozens of camera drones shifted instantly. The giant steel gate at the mouth of the cave creaked loudly as it was pulled open by hydraulic machinery. Thick white smoke, a remnant of the mana destabilization, billowed out, sweeping over the boots of the reporters at the front line.

From behind the thick curtain of smoke, the sound of dragging footsteps could be heard.

It wasn't the steady march of an elite Association team. It was the sound of worn-out boots scraping against the asphalt.

A figure slowly emerged through the smoke. Han Jihan stepped out.

His physical condition was the very definition of hell. His cargo shirt was melted and burned in several places. The hole in his right chest, now covered with a thick emergency bandage from the Association's medics, was seeping dark red blood. His face was caked with a layer of dirty green blood from hundreds of spiders. His right leg dragged on the asphalt, supported by a portable titanium brace from the medical team.

Jihan had refused a stretcher. He walked on his own two feet, because his left hand was dragging something that made every single person in the dungeon's forecourt stop breathing.

A deep purple Magic Core, the size of a basketball, that radiated a terrifying aura. The absolute proof of an S-Class boss's carcass.

The camera flashes exploded with ten times the intensity. The reporters' murmurs erupted into hysterical shouts.

Jihan stared straight ahead, his empty, bloodshot eyes immediately finding Bagas in the crowd.

Bagas's jaw dropped. His eyes bulged as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. The ebony staff in his hand slipped and fell to the asphalt with a clatter. Siska, standing next to him, let out a choked scream, covering her mouth with both hands as she saw the 'ghost' they had just sacrificed walk out carrying the heart of his executioner.

"That's… the Porter you said was dead?!" the female reporter shrieked, her head snapping back and forth between Bagas and Jihan.

The Association medics running behind Jihan tried to stop him. "Sir! You need to be on a stretcher! Your internal organs seem to be severely injured!"

Jihan roughly pushed the paramedic's hand away. Every muscle in his body screamed. His brain felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand needles. The high-dose potion the rescue team had injected him with when they found him unconscious on the spider's corpse did absolutely nothing to fix the System's 'Penalty'. Cheap human potions were useless against a cosmic loan shark.

But Jihan forced himself onward. An adrenaline fueled by vengeance ignited what was left of his consciousness. He endured the agony that tore at his bone marrow and continued to walk forward, parting the crowd of reporters who automatically made way for him.

Jihan stopped just three feet in front of Bagas.

A war of nerves began without a single physical blow being thrown.

I want to kill you right now, you bastard. I want to rip open that mouth that used my name to gain sympathy.

But Jihan was well aware of his position. His 'Knight of Light' power was completely gone. Right now, he was just a disabled man living on borrowed time. If he attacked Bagas now, a single magic spell from Bagas could turn him to ash in the blink of an eye under the guise of self-defense. And the Association would undoubtedly defend a licensed Hunter over a low-caste porter.

Bagas swallowed hard. The man in golden armor tried to control his panic. He stared intently into Jihan's eyes. The corners of his eyes narrowed, sending a very clear, threatening message. "You open your mouth about what I did in there, and you're dead tomorrow." A faint blue mana began to glow at the tips of Bagas's right fingers, preparing to cast a 'Silence' spell if Jihan dared to reveal the truth.

Jihan saw the glowing mana. Instead of fear, the corners of his lips pulled upward. A cold, condescending, and cynical smile formed on his blood-streaked face.

Jihan had just mortgaged his soul to a devil. The threat from the cowardly Hunter in front of him suddenly felt like a child's joke.

If he was weak without the system, then he would use something more powerful than a sword in this modern world. Public Opinion.

A microphone was shoved in from the side, bumping Jihan's cheek. "Sir! Mr. Jihan! You survived an S-Class monster? The Association team said you were found on top of its corpse! Did… did you kill it?"

Bagas immediately cut in, his voice rising in panic. "Everyone, back off! Make way! He's just a regular porter, he must be in deep shock! His mind is addled from the dungeon miasma. Let me take him to the Association hospital right now!"

Bagas reached out, intending to grab Jihan's collar and drag him away from the cameras.

With a swift movement that sent a searing pain through his shoulder, Jihan swung the massive Core in his hand, slamming it hard against the back of Bagas's hand and making the man flinch back with a hiss.

"I'm perfectly fine, Team Leader," Jihan's voice finally cut through the noise. It was hoarse, heavy, but full of a forced arrogance.

All the cameras instantly focused on Jihan's face.

"Thanks for running away first and locking the door from the outside," Jihan continued, his eyes looking straight into the nearest camera lens, not at Bagas. "Thanks to your cowardly actions, I didn't have to bother holding back my real power so I wouldn't hurt you guys."

The crowd was silent for a few heartbeats as everyone processed Jihan's statement. Then, in the next breath, it was as if a shockwave bomb had detonated in their minds.

Jihan's comment triggered a media firestorm. Dozens of reporters elbowed each other, shouting overlapping questions.

"Real power?! Are you a Hunter who falsified your rank to hide your identity?"

"Mr. Jihan! Is it true the White Tiger Guild abandoned you when the boss monster appeared?"

Jihan learned to wear a social mask in seconds. He realized the sickening reality of this world. The truth about a poor, sacrificed porter wouldn't sell. People would feel sorry for a moment and then forget. But a lie about a "Mysterious Super-Powered Hunter" who was betrayed? That would be an absolute shield that would make any Guild afraid to touch him openly.

Jihan lifted his chin, forcing his posture to be upright even though his broken ribs were stabbing him from the inside. "I'm just a regular guy trying to earn some extra cash as a porter. But since our nation's proud elites pissed their pants at the sight of an S-level spider monster… I was forced to step in and clean up the mess they left behind."

Bagas's face turned beet red. A vein bulged on his neck. His pride as a top-tier Hunter was being trampled on live national television.

"You bastard, Jihan! Shut your mouth!" Bagas roared, losing control of his hero persona. "Stop making shit up! You're just a broke porter! You must have just gotten lucky and the monster died in a dungeon trap!"

"Lucky?" Jihan laughed softly. It was a dry, hollow sound.

He lifted the S-Class Core high, then dropped it to the ground.

BRAAAKK!

The asphalt under the core cracked. A small shockwave of crystal energy washed over the reporters' feet, making them take a step back out of pure intimidation.

"You call slaughtering an S-Class boss by myself lucky?" Jihan looked at Bagas with the kind of condescension one would reserve for filth. "You try it, Bagas. Go ahead. Go in there by yourself and bring back a core like this and show it to my face with your 'luck'."

Bagas froze. His mouth hung open but no sound came out. Every camera recorded the pale face and the cold sweat pouring down the elite Team Leader's forehead. He couldn't argue. The Core was physical evidence that no logic could dispute.

Jihan had won. Public opinion had completely turned in his favor. He had secured his position as the "Hero Hunter" who had been hiding in a porter's uniform. The hashtags MysteriousHunter and WhiteTigerCowards were already trending worldwide in real-time. In the eyes of the world, he was now an untouchable entity.

He had successfully manipulated the situation. He was safe. His sister would get better hospital facilities with the auction of this core. Everything was perfect. This lie was truly sharper than any sword.

However…

Suddenly, a bone-deep chill crept up the base of Jihan's neck.

The roar of the reporters, the clicking of cameras, and Bagas's shouting suddenly sounded distant and muffled, as if his ears were plugged with water. His vision started to blur. The painkiller from the Association medics had completely worn off.

In the middle of a world that was spinning in slow motion, a very familiar neon blue panel pierced his vision, ignoring the laws of reality, floating right in front of his face.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION FROM THE DEATH BANK]

[Client: Han Jihan.]

[Biometric Analysis: Effects of a foreign local anesthetic (Human Potion) detected attempting to delay a legitimate Bookkeeping Penalty.]

[This action violates Article 4, Section 2 of the Loan Contract: The Borrower is strictly prohibited from manipulating pain, which is the rightful property of the System.]

[Forcing execution of the first-stage penalty…]

[Late F*e Interest: Central Nervous System Damage (Effect: Temporary Paralysis).]

[Thank you for your business.]

Jihan didn't even have time to curse.

The arrogant smile that had been plastered on his face froze. His eyes widened in horror as he stared at the virtual screen. The pain that had been forcibly held back by the system slammed into his central nervous system like a freight train hitting the wall of his skull at full speed.

"Mr. Jihan! Which Guild will you choose to—"

The reporter's question was cut off by a wet, horrifying coughing sound.

COUGH!

Jihan doubled over. It wasn't red blood that came out of his nose and mouth. It was jet-black blood, as thick as hot asphalt. The blood dripped heavily, staining the street, and giving off a foul stench like a carcass that had been rotting for days.

"Sir… Mr. Jihan?!"

Panic erupted again. The Association's medical team screamed and pushed forward.

But it was too late. The joints in Jihan's knees gave out. His body lost its balance. His vision went completely dark. In the last second of his consciousness, Jihan realized a sickening truth: he might have successfully deceived the entire world with his act, but he could never deceive the loan shark who held the deed to his life.

The young man's body collapsed backward. Jihan's head hit the asphalt hard, his body seizing uncontrollably in a pool of his own black blood, recorded and broadcast live to millions of televisions across the entire country.