Touhou: Dragged Into A Death Game, I Summoned Kaguya! — Chapter 208

Chapter 208: The Ringmaster: You’re Actually Paying?

Night fell over the twisted carnival grounds. The garish, blood-red lights of the Grand Performance Area flickered to life, casting long, unnatural shadows across the dirt. The second day’s performance was about to begin, and the air buzzed with a sickening mix of anticipation and dread.

By the time Haruto, Kaguya, and Youmu strolled up to the venue, the majority of the surviving tourists had already filed inside the massive tent. Only a small, miserable cluster of players remained huddled near the entrance. Their reason for loitering was simple: they were dead broke. The admission fee wasn’t particularly steep, but the ticket booth strictly demanded Paper Ghost Coins—the currency of the dead.

In a massive survival instance like the Circus, there were usually a few veteran players hoarding paper money, willing to trade it for life-saving ghost artifacts. Unfortunately for the wretched souls trapped outside the velvet ropes, their pockets were entirely empty. They had squandered every last artifact and resource just surviving the previous death games.

Haruto cast a lazy glance over the pathetic assembly. He recognized quite a few faces. Most of them belonged to the exact same players who had scoffed at his fortune-telling stall the previous night, loudly declaring him a cheap scammer trying to fleece them.

The moment the trio’s footsteps crunched against the gravel, dozens of bloodshot eyes snapped toward them in unison. Recognition flashed across the crowd. Their gazes were a toxic cocktail of greed, bitter jealousy, intense scrutiny, and desperate longing.

“You…” A middle-aged man wearing a dirt-stained, bluish-gray jacket stepped out from the trembling mob, pointing a shaking finger. “You’re the three who were buying up ghost artifacts on a massive scale yesterday, aren’t you?”

“What’s it to you? Looking to pick a fight?” Haruto drawled, his tone dripping with casual disdain.

Beside him, Youmu’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Her thumb flicked upward, resting lightly against the hilt of her katana, Roukanken. The subtle click of the blade shifting in its scabbard echoed like a gunshot.

The middle-aged man flinched, instinctively stumbling a step backward. Terrifying rumors about this specific trio had been circulating through the player camps all day. Whispers claimed they had engaged in a high-stakes life-and-death gamble and emerged completely unscathed—even going so far as to slaughter one of the monstrous Circus staff members in the process.

“No, no, no! Please, don’t misunderstand!” he stammered, forcing a stiff, ugly smile onto his face as his eyes darted nervously between Haruto and the half-drawn sword. “It’s just… yesterday, you took so many ghost artifacts from everyone. Now, a lot of people here can’t even afford a basic admission ticket. And I remember… when you were selling information last night, you strictly demanded ghost coins, right?”

The moment the man finished his thinly veiled accusation, a wave of self-righteous agreement surged through the desperate crowd.

“Exactly! You made an absolute fortune off us yesterday! Are you really just going to stand there and watch us die because we can’t get inside?”

“We’re all players trapped in the same hellhole! Don’t be so damn selfish!”

“Just hand over some of those ghost coins! Think of it as paying a toll to avoid a disaster!”

Emboldened by their own numbers, the mob grew restless. The sheer weight of their collective desperation mounted, pushing them forward like a pack of starving wolves. A few of the bolder players shoved their way to the very front. Two men, their eyes crazed with panic, actually lunged forward, reaching out with filthy hands to search Haruto’s pockets by force.

Just as their grimy fingertips were about to brush against his clothes—

Whoosh—

A blinding arc of silver light tore through the dim air.

Two agonizing shrieks erupted simultaneously.

One man’s arm was cleanly severed right at the elbow. The other player’s entire shoulder was sheared off in a single, flawless motion. Hot, crimson blood sprayed across the dirt in a gruesome fan as the severed limbs hit the ground with a wet thud. The very hands that had dared to reach for Haruto now lay twitching in the dust.

Youmu’s katana was already resting perfectly back inside its sheath. She stood beside Haruto with absolute stillness, her posture so relaxed it looked as though she hadn’t even moved a muscle.

The chaotic mob fell into a dead, suffocating silence instantly.

Everyone stared in sheer, unadulterated horror at the two men writhing and screaming in pools of their own blood, and then shifted their terrified gazes to the petite, expressionless swordswoman. Not a single soul dared to breathe too loudly, let alone take another step forward.

Haruto lazily swept his gaze over the frozen crowd, his lips curling into a mocking smirk. “Anyone else want to try their luck?”

Dead silence answered him.

Reaching a hand into the empty space beside him, Haruto casually opened a dark, eye-filled Gap. He pulled out a thick, heavy stack of blood-red ghost coins and fanned them out brightly in the air, the crisp paper rustling enticingly.

“Really? No one wants them?” he asked, his voice dripping with faux innocence. “I’m a very kind and generous person, you know. Whoever speaks up right now gets this entire stack.”

Seconds ticked by like hours. Still, there was absolutely no response. The players’ pupils trembled violently. They weren’t idiots; they knew this wasn’t an act of charity. It was a lethal trap. If any of them dared to reach out for that money, their fate would undoubtedly mirror the two bleeding out on the ground.

The middle-aged man in the bluish-gray jacket shrank back into the crowd, his face pale with sheer terror. He had arrogantly assumed that with the sheer weight of numbers on their side, this small trio would be forced to yield to the pressure. He never in his wildest nightmares imagined they would strike with such lethal, unhesitating brutality. The sword draw had been so impossibly fast he hadn’t even registered the movement before two of his impromptu allies were permanently crippled.

A few yards away, the Circus Troupe Leader stood behind the ornate ticket booth. The towering, sinister Ringmaster leaned against the counter, watching the bloody spectacle unfold with immense, gleaming interest.

“Sigh, what a pity.” Haruto shook his head with exaggerated regret, tucking the thick wad of cash back into his coat. He stepped forward, walking directly toward the entrance. “True kindness always goes unappreciated in this day and age. Since you don’t want my charity, don’t block the damn way. Move.”

The crowd didn’t dare utter a single syllable. They scrambled backward in absolute terror, parting like the Red Sea, utterly terrified that making eye contact would bring the silver blade down upon their own necks.

The Ringmaster chuckled darkly and stepped aside to let the VIPs pass. But just as he crossed the threshold, Haruto suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned around and lazily pointed his finger at five specific individuals cowering within the mob.

“I-I’m innocent!” one of them shrieked, dropping to his knees. “I… I didn’t do anything! I didn’t say a single word just now, I swear!”

“Yeah, boss! I admire you greatly!” another cried out, weeping. “How could I possibly join these suicidal fools?”

The five players Haruto singled out shook their heads frantically, waving their hands in the air like panicked rattle-drums, convinced their execution had just been ordered.

“What the hell are you idiots thinking?” Haruto rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m taking you inside. Consider it premium after-sales service.”

He had specifically chosen these five. They were the rare few who had actually paid for his fortune-telling services the previous night, and more, they had kept their mouths shut instead of joining the mob’s self-righteous accusations just now.

The five players froze, utterly stunned. When the realization finally hit them, they burst into tears of joy, bowing repeatedly in wild excitement. This was an unimaginable windfall—a literal ticket to survival handed to them on a silver platter.

In stark contrast, the faces of the remaining players twisted into hideous masks of resentment. If everyone was locked out to die together, they could have found some twisted sense of psychological balance. But watching a select few get hand-picked for salvation shattered that fragile cope. Their chances of survival had just plummeted to zero while those five were guaranteed safety. How could they possibly accept this?

Why do they get to live while we have to die?!

But with the bloody lesson still groaning in agony on the dirt before them, not a single person dared to curse aloud. They could only swallow their venom, suppressing their boiling malice deep inside their chests. They glared at Haruto’s back with bloodshot eyes that practically spat hellfire.

The lucky five quickly noticed the murderous glares aimed at them. Emboldened by their new VIP status, they immediately fired back at the crowd.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Who was it that thought they were so damn clever yesterday?” one of them sneered. “Weren’t you all saying he was definitely a scammer and that only brain-dead fools would fall for his tricks?”

“Exactly!” a woman chimed in, crossing her arms. “And just now you tried to use mob mentality to bully him into paying your way? Keep dreaming! The only reason you even know the survival rules is because he couldn’t bear to see you all wiped out on day one! He can literally kill ghosts—his strength is in a completely different dimension from trash like you! Luckily, I still have a working conscience. I want to live, but I’d never join you clowns in throwing a tantrum.”

“Hehe, completely dumbfounded now, aren’t you? Can’t get in?” another taunted, waving mockingly. “Well, enjoy the outside. We’re going in first~”

The five of them chimed in one after another, venting their frustrations. They had long despised this toxic group of players. Under normal circumstances, they would never dare provoke a mob, but now? With an unimaginably overpowered big shot backing them up, why the hell should they act cowardly?

The mob, their faces already twisted in ugly rage, turned a sickly shade of pale. Yet, out of sheer, paralyzing fear of the yawning Gap and the silver-haired swordswoman beside Haruto, they swallowed their pride and didn’t dare utter a single word of rebuttal.

Haruto looked at his newly appointed spokespeople with immense satisfaction. He certainly hadn’t saved them for nothing; having a dedicated hype squad was always a plus.

Instead of rushing inside, he casually strolled up to the ticket booth. He glanced at the rusted price board, did a quick mental headcount of his group, and pulled two crisp, red ghost coins from his pocket, sliding them across the counter.

“Keep the change,” Haruto said smoothly.

The towering Ringmaster blinked, visibly stunned. The monstrous entity clearly hadn’t expected this terrifying, rule-breaking anomaly of a player to actually pay the admission fee voluntarily.

Just as the Ringmaster reached out with a clawed hand to take the bloody bills, a loud, obnoxious commotion erupted from the back of the crowd.

“Move! Everyone get the hell out of my way! Don’t block the path!”

A man wearing an absurdly flamboyant suit and a tall top hat shoved his way through the desperate mob with extreme impatience. The players, who had just been humiliated and were currently suppressing a massive bellyful of explosive rage, instantly found their perfect scapegoat. Without a second thought, they swarmed the arrogant newcomer, raining down a vicious flurry of punches and kicks.

“Agh! Get off me!” The flamboyant man shrieked. In a blind panic, he activated a high-tier ghost artifact, his body flashing out of the dogpile and reappearing right next to Haruto in an incredibly pathetic, bruised state.

“Damn it! You filthy peasants dare to hit me?!” he roared, his top hat crumpled. “You’re finished! I’m telling you, every single one of you is completely finished!”

He shook with absolute rage, pointing a trembling finger and cursing violently at the mob. He had never expected to be brutally jumped the very second he arrived at the venue.

Panting heavily, he turned around to brush off his ruined suit. His eyes suddenly landed on Kaguya and Youmu standing near the entrance. He froze instantly. The anger vanished from his bruised face, replaced by a disgustingly eager, beaming smile.

He rushed forward, puffing out his chest. “Ah, beautiful ladies! Do you need a gentleman to escort you inside? I might not have much else, but I have plenty of money to spare!”

Kaguya blinked slowly, her dark eyes shifting sideways to look at Haruto.

Haruto stared back, genuinely confused. He had literally just finished dealing with a massive mob trying to guilt-trip him into paying for their admission, and now, out of absolutely nowhere, this flamboyant idiot was volunteering to foot the bill?

He gave Kaguya a subtle, knowing look.

The immortal princess immediately understood the assignment. A sly, mischievous glint flashed in her eyes, and she offered Haruto a quick, imperceptible wink.

Kaguya delicately cleared her throat, adjusting her posture to look as helpless and elegant as possible. She turned her stunning gaze toward the bruised man in the top hat.

“My, my,” she said, her voice dripping with sweet, aristocratic charm. “Are you absolutely sure you want to buy tickets for all of us, kind sir?”

“Of course, my beautiful—”

Before the man could even finish his grand declaration, Kaguya abruptly turned her back on him, her face instantly dropping the sweet act. She nodded with deep satisfaction, her goal completely achieved.

At that exact moment, Haruto casually reached out and snatched his two red ghost coins right back out of the Ringmaster’s clawed hand.

He pointed a thumb at the bewildered man in the top hat.

“You heard the man,” Haruto told the Ringmaster with a shameless grin. “He promised it himself. The VIP tickets for my entire group are on his tab.”