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Why do humans become Undead?
Why does an ordinary person… someone who isn’t Awakened… become Undead?
Why are 30% of Underheaven’s citizens Undead, and why is that number still rising?
Why is humanity turning into walking corpses, hiding in a vast graveyard?
Not long ago, four anthropologists gathered to argue the point.
The elderly scholar said it was for eternal life.
The former commander said it was for war.
The ex-high-ranking government official blamed coercion.
And the most renowned of them… an artisan who had worked on Reapers since the upheaval… answered like this:
“Mister Necromancer, care to guess?”
“…”
“Haha, too hard? I’ll give you a hint.”
Necromancy and magi-engineering are the keys to humanity’s survival.
The Immortal Reaper Project and Necroshell technology might be the greatest inventions in human history.
But just as Nobel’s dynamite, meant to advance mankind, became a weapon that kills, and as Virgilious’s teleportation for space travel tore open dimensional rifts, there’s a dark face to necromancy and magi-engineering too:
Humans wanting to become Undead by their own will.
‘Postmortem Spontaneous Biotical Rekindling’ is emerging as a social disease.
“Po… post what? What kind of bullshit is that…”
Recently, thanks to medical and technical advances, humans and Undead are growing indistinguishable.
Humans have begun replacing perfectly healthy parts with prosthetics, and red blood now flows in Undead bodies.
As sleeping, dreaming, eating, drinking… every daily rhythm… gets replicated, ordinary citizens can’t tell them apart by sight.
In that world, humans stand at a fork.
Live as a normal human with one or two replacements… or go further… swap in multi-function eyes, strengthen vertebrae, add joints for flexibility, heighten stature for style, broaden shoulders, lengthen legs, enlarge the pelvis, pile on muscle, boost the chest, and supersize the genitals for fashion…
“Enough already?”
Baek Ho glared at the man in front of him.
The man swallowed and pressed on. “Anyway, as I said, human bodies can be modified. But compared to Undead, the limits are clear. Human-grade parts are too expensive, and the body can’t tolerate much. Not so for the Undead… thanks to the vessel, a wide range of mods are possible.”
“…So what have you been trying to say this whole time?”
“Haha. The reason the artisan anthropologist gave for the rise of Undead in Underheaven. Do you know the answer now?”
“I would…”
“Frank knows!”
“Oh! Would you tell us?”
“To become prettier and more handsome!”
“What nonsense. Think a little… “
“Correct! Correct!”
“…”
“Frank is smart!”
“According to recent surveys, half the reasons humans go Undead are cosmetic. Think about it… if you can keep within the permitted human limits and still get a fantastic face and body, who wouldn’t want that? Especially when others can’t tell the difference.”
“There are restrictions if you become Undead…”
“Appearance is fashion now. We’re in an era where you can swap into the look you want. Who wants to fall behind? Haha.”
The man in the gray lab coat with thick goggles was a tech-surgeon.
A specialist who converts human and Undead bodies into machines… or repairs a Reaper’s Necroshell.
“So.”
Baek Ho looked at the metal surgical table. Frank lay there primly, hands clasped.
“This face.”
He pointed at Frank’s face, then at the monitor beside the surgeon… displaying the current ‘it’ actor, Cha Eunhu.
“Turning into that… you’re calling that normal?”
“Yes, perfectly normal.”
“At this point it isn’t surgery… it’s building a chimera.”
“Oh my, a chimera? We mere surgeons wouldn’t dare.”
“Ha…”
Arms crossed, Baek Ho sighed again. ‘This is driving me crazy.’
Yesterday, Sophia’s payment hit. Normally the necromancer keeps it all… but Baek Ho didn’t. He treated Frank like a partner and split the fee, promising not to meddle in how Frank spent his cut.
He regretted it within a day.
He hadn’t imagined Frank would decide on cosmetic surgery.
“Haha, shall we proceed as planned?”
“Let’s go!”
“What should we do? Legally, we need the manager’s permission.”
Frank and the surgeon stared at Baek Ho… silent pressure to sign off.
Reluctantly, he nodded. He’d respect Frank’s choice.
“Very good! Then we’ll proceed as is. As for the date… since Mr. Necromancer came in person, we’ll accommodate… call it one week from now.”
“Alright…”
“By the way, our clinic is prepaid.”
“There’s not a normal man alive with a tongue that long… paying that much upfront…”
The elevator dropped fast with Baek Ho and Frank inside. As befit a commercial megabuilding, ads rolled on wall displays:
“…Show your real skin. The SK-RN-5000 anti-aging serum uses gene recoding technology to…”
“Even thinking about it is absurd. Changing your face to go to an idol concert… how is that right?”
Frank stayed quiet under the scolding, grinning as he stared at the post-op image the surgeon had given him.
“With that money, wouldn’t another Necroshell be better? Or dedicated weaponry?”
“Hehe.”
“Given our situation… weapons before looks.”
“Appearance is also a weapon.”
Baek Ho clenched a fist, breathed deep, and tried again, calmer. “Why that place? What about your usual clinic?”
“Cosmetic work looks best from specialists. And this new place offered a discount.”
“That was the discount?”
“Yes.”
“Ha… With that money, wouldn’t a change-arm upgrade be better? You could install a new Speedbackbone.”
“No. I like this face.”
“Why that face of all things?”
He scowled at the photo. No matter how he looked, that face didn’t match Frank’s hefty frame.
“It’s the trend.”
“…”
“…Free the soul trapped in smog! Engrave the warrior’s soul passed down from ancestors onto the blade. The ultimate katana that connects past and present! Kakkoi Genbu-72!”
The doors opened onto a typical megabuilding arcade. They threaded past shops into a narrow corridor. Soon… a thick iron door, and a Reaper lounging in front, fiddling with a pistol.
Sensing them, the Reaper stood.
“Eek!”
Frank flinched… the Reaper’s face unfortunately resembled the very face he was trying to buy.
Baek Ho snorted. “It really is a trend.”
He patted Frank’s trembling back, then addressed the guard. “We’re here to see Holiday.”
“Are you a necromancer?”
“Yes.”
“You may go in.”
The Reaper palmed the iron door; it slid aside.
Baek Ho left Frank there and entered alone.
The shop was packed with antiques… objects from a distant age, dust-caked and useless: paper books, plastic cups, banknotes, cell phones, and more.
Retro collectors would salivate. Baek Ho didn’t. To him, junk was junk.
Weaving through stacks, he reached a table where an old man sat… sharp eyes, neatly trimmed beard, old-fashioned glasses perched on his nose as he inspected a relic.
“Holiday.”
At Baek Ho’s voice, the old man looked up… real eyes of protein and collagen, not mechanical optics… sharp as pins.
“Long time no see, Mr. Necromancer.”
“I see you swapped the guard.”
“I heard the friend who used to be there turned Mad Eater.”
“Tsk, tsk… that stuff will do it.”
Baek Ho drew a golden revolver from his coat and set it down… the boss’s Undeadog piece.
“You’ve brought stolen goods again,” the old man said, adjusting his glasses and examining it. “Hmm. Limited edition by Soultech. For soul bullets. Many say its flashy exterior makes it impractical in the field.”
“So how much?”
He held up one finger. Baek Ho’s brow creased.
“Less than I expected?”
“Each item’s numbered, so they’re hard to source. I’m giving you a good price because you’re a necromancer.”
“Fine. Add some cash and get me one car.”
“Same conditions as last time?”
“Yeah. No tracking, no autopilot. Needs to be tougher.”
“It will have to be a modified vehicle again. I have one in mind. Price is about this much… does that suit you?”
He held up five fingers.
“That’s too much. I’m short.”
“As I said, Mr. Necromancer, I can offer interest-free installments.”
“…Show me first.”
Holiday waved his left hand through the air. A black, blocky SUV bloomed in hologram… crude compared to modern lines, a three-pointed star on the grille.
“This was a design by a company called Benz before the Great Catastrophe. They called it the G-Wagen. It was pricey. The shell is classic, but the internals are updated. Most importantly, a high-strength nano-alloy coats the entire exterior and frame… ordinary bullets won’t scratch it.”
“Oh… not bad.”
“That’s not all. It has several special features…”
By the end of the pitch, Baek Ho was chewing it over. The sum was heavy for an impulse buy… but not buying might gnaw at him. Ask his sister? His aunt? For them, this would be pocket change. If he asked, they’d wire it without a word.
But pride.
When he’d left home, swearing he wouldn’t become a commander, he’d also sworn off help.
‘Right. I won’t fold over this. Using the family’s weight for money…’
“Holiday.”
“Yes, Mr. Necromancer.”
“Give me a discount.”
“Impossible.”
“Between us?”
“What are we to each other…?”
“I’m Baek family. It’d be… disappointing.”
Kugugugu…
The rumble of trains bled through the office window again. Baek Ho sprawled on a torn sofa, working his Smartbone.
He blinked. One commission and he’d leveled up. In Underheaven, money truly was everything.
“Where else can I find easy cash…”
In the end, Sophia’s request was pure profit. Dangerous moments… sure. But those might’ve happened anyway. His mother had once said: to live as a Baek requires that much resolve.
“Frank, what are you even worrying about?”
He looked over. Frank lay belly-down on the mattress, brooding over two celebrity photos… Cha Eunhu and Timothy Shalladu. Both famous for their looks.
“I’m deciding which face is better. The Reaper we met said this style’s popular now.”
“Let’s not even start.”
He turned back to the screen, logged into the Fixer Association site, and checked public C-rank jobs. Even without direct clients, the quality was better than D-rank. Where D had felt like finding a missing cat, C leaned more toward catching the one who killed your pet.
“Hm…”
Nothing jumped out… when someone rapped at the door.
Knock knock…
Baek Ho didn’t move. Usually Frank would have bolted up… but this time he didn’t budge, too absorbed in grafting his face over the photos and practicing a handsome expression in his head.
‘That lunatic…’
He got up and headed to the entrance, pulling on a smile. “Welcome. D and F, who handle everything except murder… “
He stopped. An unexpected person stood there.
“How have you been?”
A woman whose mechanical parts didn’t show through skin. Sophia.
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