I Reincarnated Into a Vending Machine

Preparations for the King of the Underworld crusade are steadily advancing in the lamentation hierarchy of the deceased.

The other hunters who found out about my existence seem to have figured out how convenient it is as soon as possible, doubling their daily sales. Several teams were trying to solicit me and Ramis, but it seems they're in a state where Chief Kelli Oil and Chairman Bear are stabbing him in the nail to see how things are going.

I've had those days, but I've been very concerned lately.

It's not necessarily that the king of the underworld doesn't strike any lead, so when people are watching in full alert mode in the middle of the night when they stop walking, they see translucent men coming and going in front of windows and doors every night when they frequently show up in private houses across the street from the inn.

I'm pretty sure he's a Necromancer because he's a translucent body, but he was very heterogeneous to me as I kept observing the demons here.

Others are white or blue-white translucent bodies, but he is overflowing with black mist. And the look on that face is anger. He eats up his teeth, weeps of blood, and is desperate to peek into his private home.

'Why... why can you do that... why!

A curse that exhales with blood will come true if you have your own hair. Even the body of the machine felt so fearful about its impending appearance.

One day, after lunch, Chairman Bear spoke unexpectedly. There's also a gardener next door.

"I hear Hackon keeps an eye on me every night. Was there anything strange lately? Especially around the private house in front of you."

It's just a matter of timing. On the other hand, I was just about to talk to you somehow.

"Welcome"

"Again, something happened. Mr. Hackon, did you know there have been many attempted murders around here lately?

No, the customer talked about it quite a bit. Surely, a widow acquaintance named Seemi was continuously attacked?

"Welcome"

"Did you know? That case has been attacked by many of Mr. Seemi's friends, but after stabbing him with a thick skewer or a small pile on his back, several places have been found, which have not led to death, but the wounds of those who have been damaged every day he pursues are greater. As it is, there will be a dead man soon. Mr. Seemi's house is a private house in front of him."

Oh, so most of the people who were rumoring were talking to you looking at the front?

"And Seemi, the person of the day, asked me to go to the Hunter Association. A pre-crusade period that is also important as a hunter's association. We want a speedy case resolution so that we don't leave any worries behind. I've been entrusted with one of these, so I'd like to ask for your help."

Is the gardener in charge? But why? Isn't this like detective work? Even if the gardener didn't bother to do it, it would be more efficient for a crowded team to gather information together.

"Oh, I did. You didn't know Mr. Hackon. I am a little confident in this hierarchical demon opponent because I can handle protections and light magic that have healing power."

Can the bow also handle healing power and light magic with great skill? One of the chimps changed my eyes on the gardener, but I didn't seem to have identified it yet.

"The Hunter Society is wondering if this is the crime of the less demonic of hatred."

I can tell who it is when the information is provided so far. Every night, there will be no doubt that the Necromancer who was trying to peek into the house was the killer or an associate. Then you should tell me what happened the last few days.

I installed the "LCD panel" of the function and streamed the footage that kept filming that Necromancer every night. I was anxious to see if it was possible to take it as video because it looks like a ghost, but it shows fine.

"This is turning into a grievance demon."

"No, Chairman. Still, it seems painfully conscious. Because if you are completely turned into a resentful spirit demon, there is no way that the attacked will help you. This man... Let's hear it."

Oh, no, no, no! This man only looks like a complete grudge spirit or evil spirit. There's no way that someone like that can talk to me properly. Too reckless.

"Zane."

"Oh, Mr. Hackon is worried about you. It's okay, I've been involved in these cases many times. It is said that souls who have become complete spiritual demons will not be saved. Now there may still be room for Buddhism."

"If that's what Hoxy says, don't worry about it. I got it."

"I'll take care of it"

Chairman Bear seems to have full confidence. Then will I ever pinch my mouth? However, I'll let you see how it ends.

Late at night, watching as usual, the inn door opened and the gardener entered. I'm holding a bow in my hand, so I guess if the discussion fails, I'll be forced to eliminate it.

"Good evening, Mr. Hackon"

"Welcome"

Since there were already dead demons, bone demons and necromancers wandering around, I didn't care if the gardener would be attacked, but the demons just gave her a glance and never came close.

"I haven't used this magic in a long time, but you don't seem to have a problem"

When I stared at her squealing like that, I noticed that there was light overflowing from my body. Is this deluding the enemy's perception?

"Mr. Hackon. Since then, I have gathered information about Mr. Seemi and the people who were attacked, are you interested?"

"Welcome"

Of course, I'm interested. If you know the truth about that hate-stripping ghost, I'd love to hear it from you.

"I want Mr. Hackon to see this one through. And if you can, could you just leave that sight behind, like you showed me before"

I mean, record it, right? That doesn't have to be said. I was going to do it from the beginning.

"Welcome"

"Thank you. So, I'll tell you about the information I got about her. Six years ago, she lost her husband and became single, and she moved to this hierarchy to get a job with one woman."

This horror spot may last a few days with a liver test sensation, but you have the courage to settle in. There seems to be a lot of work to do if you're willing.

"She managed to find a job and work. She knew one man. They said they had a relationship where they lived together for a while and it was smooth and full of sails. He was painting and he was painting a self-portrait, and this is it."

When I spread the round piece of paper that I had removed from my nose, there was a man who looked feeble and feeble. He looks like the type that would be pushed off at a wording if he was in a push sale.

"His name is Chiquina. It was an unsold painting, but one day, the painting was expected by a merchant man to open an exhibition on an arrow tip... and he killed himself."

What, why at that time? You should have seen a glorious future, but why do you need to kill yourself? It doesn't matter what you think. Is this actually a flow of other killings?

"He said the cause of death was death with a brush pattern poking his chest multiple times. He said he was almost certain of suicide. Because his suicide note was also left behind. There they were - dead, but they would never forgive them alone - beaten and written with blood."

That sounds like a spectacular death. I wonder what the hell hatred was enough to stab you to death many times with a brush pattern. Grab a brush with your hand just before you grab glory, poke yourself over and over again, what is the grievance until you commit suicide.

"Mr. Hackon, is there anything you can think of when you look at this portrait"

I got a portrait stuck out in the front, but only with a guy with a thin smile that I can't even look at again and again...... hey, this contour and nose. No, well, you know what?

This man, he resembles a grudging man peeking into a private house every night. I didn't notice because the expression didn't hold the original shape, but the distinctive nose shape and the soothing face match the man.

Instead of replying, stream footage of a man about to become a grudging demon on the LCD panel.

"That's right. You can be sure he's a chicken. Why he remembered his hatred until he turned so much into a grudging demon. I talked to the people who were damaged and I figured it out, but they all had something in common. What do they have in common?"

If it wasn't a vending machine, he'd come out and ask me,

"Why... why can you do that... why"

and vomit words of resentment, a voice stained with men's hatred has arrived.