"With skills like these, this curseling's core should be perfect for creating a mule-type curse slave to smuggle goods, right?" Ace muttered, arriving at the bus stop. He couldn't understand why the curseling's curse core wasn't more sought after to make curse slaves with it.
'Master, at the mortal tier, its abilities are weak,' Dame Wasp began, her tone tinged with dry precision. 'It can only pull mortals into its paint domain, but the skill breaks if the painting its haunting is touched or moved, throwing it out of the painting severing the connection between the curseling and its domain. Its powers may seem dream-like, but they're heavily limited. Moreover, at the mortal tier, it lacks the curse energy needed to fully unleash its abilities. Since curse slaves can only embed mortal-tier cores, they see little value in this one. It's rare but not desirable.'
Ace frowned, crossing his arms as a cold breeze brushed past. "How reliable is the C.I.B. when it comes to the information they post in curse exorcism requests? If this curseling is so weak, why didn't the investigators handle it themselves?"
The reward attached to the request nagged at him. From everything he'd learned about the phantom paint curseling, it seemed far too feeble, especially considering its lack of offensive, attack-type skills that could pose a threat to curse users. The C.I.B. investigators, responsible for verifying and cataloging this curse exorcism requests, should have been able to deal with it effortlessly.
Yet here was a $100,000 bounty on its head. Even if the C.I.B. had state funding to spare, the amount didn't add up. Something about this request didn't sit right with him. Still, the phantom paint curse core was too tempting for Ace to let go. With it, he could create a toy summon capable of protecting his entire family in a pinch. Letting this one slip away meant losing a rare chance to secure a curse core with space-type-ish abilities—a resource so scarce that even billions of dollars couldn't guarantee one. In the 'World of Curses,' money wasn't the problem; finding high-quality resources was.
'Master, the information on the curse exorcism request is legitimate,' Dame Wasp assured him, her tone matter-of-fact. 'The reason the C.I.B. investigators posted the request is because the curseling is incredibly agile and good at hiding. They weren't about to waste days combing through the winery's estate for such an insignificant target. Instead, they passed the task along with a bounty to the curse exorcism request board. And the cash reward? That's not from the C.I.B.—it's from the owner of Wesley Winery Resort & Spa.'
Ace's frown eased slightly, though he still felt uneasy. Dame Wasp continued, sensing his lingering doubts. 'Master, the C.I.B. wouldn't risk conducting a top-secret mission here. If they were caught, it wouldn't just endanger themselves but also jeopardize one of their most efficient—and cheapest—methods for dealing with curselings across the country. They rely heavily on the trust of rogue curse masters and those from the "World of Curses."
'Their numbers are too limited to respond to every curseling-related incident across the country. Losing that trust would cripple them. As much as they despise rogue curse users roaming like ticking time bombs—ready to cause chaos over something as trivial as waking up on the wrong side of the bed—they're powerless. They have no choice but to depend on them. That's why they wouldn't dare compromise the legitimacy of the curse exorcism request board.'
Ace nodded slowly, absorbing her explanation. It made sense, but the feeling that something didn't quite add up still nagged at him.
"Is the owner of the winery a curse user?" Ace asked, narrowing his eyes as Dame Wasp mentioned the reward for the curse exorcism request being funded by the owner.
'No,' Dame Wasp replied, her voice calm but matter-of-fact. 'But the winery's owner has a net worth of $350 million—'
Ace cut her off with a tired sigh, shaking his head. "So, he's on the C.I.B.'s wealth watchlist. The rich really are this country's favorite children."
The wealth watchlist: a catalog of the nation's wealthiest individuals identified as potential targets for rogue curse users or curse terrorists. These people were particularly vulnerable to curse users because of their mortal status, immense wealth, and influence over the economy. The list was maintained by the C.I.B., law enforcement, financial institutions, and other organizations tasked with safeguarding the country's economic stability.
At least, that's how the C.I.B. justified it. The reality, Ace thought, was far more self-serving. The list wasn't just about protecting the rich—it was about monitoring them. The government feared what might happen if the wealthy turned to the 'World of Curses' to cheat death.
The rich had a singular fear: dying. If someone with their resources discovered the 'World of Curses,' they wouldn't hesitate to buy immortality—or at least eternal youth and health.
Sure, awakening as a curse user came with risks, but the 'World of Curses' offered other methods. Through curse sacrifice rituals and other dark arts, even a regular curse user could extend a mortal's lifespan and vitality. On the curse web, it was widely speculated that the wisemen of the Curse Council had used such methods to control kings in the past.
However, that theory was shaky. After all, the Curse Council weren't the only ones with access to those techniques. Any capable curse user could grant a mortal a long and healthy life, if the price was right.
Regular cursed means could extend a mortal's lifespan to 130 or even 150 years, all while maintaining perfect health. But beyond that limit, things turned dark—requiring forbidden curse methods that often involved human sacrifices.
History was riddled with accounts of wealthy individuals sacrificing thousands of innocent lives to push their lifespans beyond natural limits. And it wasn't just about living longer. The rich could also use their wealth to buy the loyalty of curse users, eliminating rivals or manipulating events to suit their interests.
This was the real reason the government kept the wealthy and influential under close watch. These individuals posed a greater threat than small time rogue curse user. History had repeatedly shown what mortals were willing to do for just a few extra years of life.
If there was any silver lining, it was that the government imposed extra taxes on the rich to protect them from the dangers of the 'World of Curses' when actually they were using it to monitor them. But even with the C.I.B. keeping a tight leash on those in the wealth watchlist, the rich always found ways to get what they wanted.
They would simply go to countries with lax regulations and little regard for human rights—places where health, youth, and even immortality were just commodities for sale.
Ace's jaw tightened as he thought about it. He did not mind them using wealth to increase their lifespan and youth but to sacrificing human lives for it, that was were he drew the line. The sheer audacity of it all was infuriating, but it was the reality of the world he lived in.