Weapon seller in the world of magic

One of the robots floated closer, its mechanical voice smooth and emotionless.

”Inmate 73812, there has been a smoke alert in this section. You are requested to report to the interrogation room for questioning. Please comply.”

”Smoke alert?” Sungjun sniffed, ”But I don’t smell any smoke though...” The smoke was already gone and absorbed by the robots. Hence, his argument seemed valid.

However, the robot acted as if it didn’t listen to his words. It simply said, ”We repeat. Please cooperate with us and follow us to the interrogation room for questioning. Please be aware that any resistance will result in the removal of monthly visitation privileges.”

For a brief moment, Sungjun froze—not from fear, but from curiosity.

”Monthly visits?” he repeated quietly.

That didn’t make sense. He remembered clearly what Seongha had told him back when they discussed her father’s imprisonment—how she hadn’t been allowed to see him for years because the deepest layers of the prison, below level-4, permitted no visitation. Even Steve had mentioned something similar: the lower you went, the more cut off you became from the outside world.

And yet... here they were, threatening to revoke a privilege that supposedly didn’t exist.

Maybe it was an automatic system line—a mechanical warning repeated out of routine. Or maybe... There was something more. Perhaps certain inmates did receive visits, but under very specific circumstances—like signing a confidentiality agreement. Regardless, he isn’t here to solve the mystery anyway.

”Fine,” he said finally, standing up slowly, stretching his arms as if annoyed. ”Lead the way.”

Sungjun walked between two towering robots with his hands cuffed. The corridor stretched long and sterile, with white lights gleaming off titanium-steel walls. On the way, he found many life signatures, spotted some faces in the darkness as they woke up from their sleep, but quietly watched him.

After a few minutes, they stopped before a reinforced steel door with AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY glowing above it in red. The lead robot scanned its ID chip; the door split open with a hiss.

Inside, the room had faint yellow lighting and a small desk at the center. But what caught Sungjun’s attention wasn’t the décor—it was the person sitting behind that desk.

It was a woman, not a robot.

She had long, silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, with an elegant face that seemed both calm and cold; however, she had eyes that glowed faintly blue. Her uniform was pristine—white with gray accents, marked by a badge that read CAPTAIN – NOVA. She held a tablet in one hand, reviewing data lines scrolling across it.

Sungjun blinked once, genuinely caught off guard. ”Well, that’s a surprise,” he said, his tone carrying a faint smirk. ”Didn’t know there were human officers down here. Much less a female one.”

Her head tilted slightly, and when she spoke, her voice was soft—but unnaturally even and robotic.

”Inmate 73812, I am not human. I am a Gynoid, Series-F Operator, Model Twelve. Codename: NOVA. My designation is floor supervisor of Level 6. You may address me as Captain Nova,” she said, surprising him. The robots don’t usually answer him. They just say whatever they want. But she was actually conversing with him, claiming herself to be a Gynoid, a feminine version of an Android, a humanoid robot that runs with an AGI.

”Captain Nova, huh?” Sungjun murmured, lowering himself into the chair opposite her as she gestured. Up close, she was too real—the subtle reflection in her pupils, the faint pulse at her neck, even the delicate scent of synthetic perfume. She didn’t seem like a simple humanoid robot from the fictional works. She seemed like a human soul born in a robotic body. If not for her speech and her bionic lens in both eyes, Sungjun would have been convinced that she is a human officer who was pretending to be a robot.

”A gynoid... and this perfect?” he thought. ”Pavel’s labs never even came close to something like this. We were the forefront of AI and robotics, and even then, such realism was impossible. Just what the hell is this prison hiding?’

Before he could dwell on it, a robotic arm descended from the ceiling, attaching slim electrodes to his temple, chest, and wrist. Nova glanced at the screen, then at him.

”We will now begin a polygraph test,” she stated, tone unchanged. ”Any attempt to lie will result in disciplinary action and punishment according to Level-6 regulations. Please answer truthfully.”

Sungjun gave her a small nod and leaned back with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. He thought, ”Fine. Let’s see what your machine thinks of truth.”

Gynoid Nova’s gaze stayed locked on Sungjun as she began. ”Question one. What was the reason for the fire in your cell? Our report states that several books were partially burned.”

Sungjun leaned back in the chair, his cuffs clinking softly against the armrest. His expression was blank, almost bored, as he replied. ”I wouldn’t know. I was asleep. The cell had some sort of noise-canceling spell, so I couldn’t hear anything. When I woke up, it was already filled with smoke.”

Nova’s gaze flickered to the polygraph display. The lines remained perfectly stable.

”No spike in heartbeat,” she said, her tone unchanging. ”It is true.”

Sungjun tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips with success.

”Of course. Because I’m not lying. Even criminals have their own code of conduct.”

Ding!

[Resistance passed.]

”Next question,” Nova continued, the faint hum of her processors filling the pause. ”It was noted that when guards entered your cell, you were not present. Where were you, Inmate 73812?”

Sungjun met her gaze calmly. ”I already answered that,” he said. ”I was sleeping on the bed. But when the fire started, I woke up suddenly and ran into the corner in panic. You think I’d just sit there and burn alive? There is a thing called survival instinct, you know?”

Then he leaned forward slightly, his tone sharpening with mock irritation. ”You should probably update your software and hardware. Seems like your system’s got a bug, not only does it create a fire hazard and threaten my life, but now, it’s repeating questions just to frame me in trouble.”

Nova’s expression did not change. Her mechanical pupils dilated briefly, scanning his face. Then she looked back at the polygraph readings. Again—steady.

”Heart rate stable. Pupillary response is normal. Cortisol fluctuation within tolerance. Result: truth.”

There was a brief pause, then she looked up at him again. ”You may return to your cell, Inmate 73812.”

Sungjun gave her a polite nod, ”Always a pleasure, Captain Nova.”

Two escort robots entered and guided him back through the same sterile corridor. As the cell door sealed shut behind him, he sat down on his bed, exhaling softly. The corner of his lips then curved upward into a smirk as he thought in his head. ”These ones are much easier to handle than human officers. So predictable.”

But in the next second, his gaze darkened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ”Still... their response time was too fast. The moment I left, they detected it in under a minute. Level-7 must be even worse. The alarms rang all over the place the moment I stepped out of the elevator.”

He rubbed his temple thoughtfully. ”Before I go down there, I need to clean up my tracks here. If only I had Eva, sigh... I could’ve hacked the entire system by now and walked straight out with Dongsik.”

Sungjun leaned back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the system interface floating before him.

”Anyway,” he muttered, ”it doesn’t matter anymore. As I have already stepped inside Level-7, I can teleport there directly. However...”

His gaze moved to the holographic screen, showing his Overlord’s Authority skills, more specifically, the ones saved under his Overlord’s Dominion skills.

He tapped the Teleportation, and a new window unfolded:

[Teleportation Portal]

Available locations: 3

Slot 1: Home (Base Residence)

Slot 2: Cell 1 (Level-2’s dining hall)

Slot 3: Cell 2 (Level-6’s cell)

Rubbing his chin in thought, ”I can’t change slot 1, because that would be my ticket to return home. So, if I had to pick one for level-7, I need to replace one, and the only thing I can replace it in the Slot 2. But, if I use the second for Level-7, I’ll lose access to Level-2 completely. That means I cannot pass any instructions to Steve to cause a disturbance later on. The Knockout drug I gave him will go to waste. And to pass him the message, I would have to wait for the monthly visit.

He fell silent for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. ”No way I’m wasting time here for so long.”

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, he made up his mind. ”Fine,” he thought. ”Let’s go ahead.”

He clicked on Slot 2 and then clicked on remove. Then, he clicked on blank, and the system asked him to choose the location from memories.