“Hmm, it’s gotten too big. Can we somehow make it lighter?”
I gazed at the [Portable Barrier Generator] filling the entire basement. It had grown too large to stand upright, so I’d split it into two parts and laid them down.
A grotesque assemblage of Buddha statues and rocks, iron plates, all manner of trash, and Eastern and Western occult tools.
Even so, it was already an excessive form—but I’d just now integrated the [Egg Pouch] into this device.
Like something a mantis or spider might spin, a white mass of hardened foam and threads had entwined with the [Portable Barrier Generator]... now it was an indescribable, revolting blob.
“My head’s spinning—I feel like I might vomit.”
But it still wasn’t complete.
One more addition.
If I could add the # Nоvеlight # relic of the [Blood Demon King] here—then not only would it affect the [Mountain Predator], but it would produce a similar effect on other Abyssal entities, creating an unprecedented universal barrier.
“Well, it might not work.”
To be precise, there was a chance of it forming that way. The crafting process assigns random options, and they’d have to land just right. In the game it never succeeded once, so I wasn’t counting on it.
“Phew. Anyway, that’s ready. I wonder how things are going elsewhere.”
If the tasks I’d “requested” of Cheongho-pa and Bong Ilcheon-pa were handled well, I’d hear from them soon.
“Hmm, maybe I should sleep...”
Since leaving the hospital, I’d been nonstop: running here and there, contacting this person, that person—and then at home wrestling with these magical devices. I was utterly exhausted.
My stamina was drained. Ugh, so sleepy... I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. My eyes closed.
I rested my head against the [Portable Barrier Generator] and drifted off...
The fox spoke.
“What’s up? Why’d you just come back?”
“Just come back? From where, just come back?”
“The insane crystal sci-fi device you made for Iha Seo.”
“Ah?”
“If you built it, you should report results, show成果, confirm it’s working—”
“You mean boost her self-efficacy?”
“Yeah. Everyone would cheer, ‘We did it! We did it! Long live the great Kim Sinhwa!’”
The fox’s shadow danced lively on the right wall.
“You don’t need that. It probably won’t be that kind of vibe.”
“It won’t?”
“Yeah. If Iha Seo tried to heal people with it, she’d end up fighting the hospital for ages.”
She could bulldoze her way through, but showing up too conspicuously at Paju Central is risky. They’re one of the most powerful armed groups in Paju.
“Sinhwa’s right.”
A crow’s shadow formed on the left wall, its great beak bobbing cautiously.
“In open combat, we could help—but hospital power dynamics and subtle politicking... teaming up with Iha Seo would be exhausting. She’s been fired up and given a plan. She’ll handle it.”
“So we can’t treat them right away? I thought it’d be exciting.”
The fox on the right shook its head.
A fox on the right, a crow on the left.
They’re other personalities split from my mind—friendlier than the rest, and eager to merge with me. Because they’re slightly less insane, I can talk with them.
I addressed their shadows on the wall.
“I’m glad you accept it. But—how many of you are there now?”
“How many?”
The crow’s reply.
“The personalities parasitizing my mind. Tell me straight. There’s one more, right?”
“Ugh, you noticed already?”
The fox answered.
“....”
The crow regarded the fox dismissively, then said,
“That’s right.”
I recalled the blood-obsession personality in the buffalo mask that once fully took over my body. Hostile personas are extremely dangerous—they subtly influence my actions, trigger catastrophes, or cloud my judgment and lead me into traps.
“I need to know to prepare. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The crow stared at me, then finally spoke, as if resigned.
“I wasn’t certain. I didn’t want to give you unnecessary stress.”
“Uncertain?”
“It’s hiding in your darkness, moving bit by bit. I couldn’t tell whether it was an existing persona or a new one, so I kept quiet.”
“What do you think its goal is?”
“Hmm....”
The crow fell silent. It’s cautious by nature. But I also have an impatient one beside me.
“Maybe it’s just some mad idea? Looks like it wants to spin some dark fantasy.”
“Dark fantasy?”
“You know, like chūnibyō—villains with evil schemes controlling people.”
“That....”
I realized it matched my recent activities: luring crime bosses and deranged doctors, stoking their desires, prompting specific actions. Their actions rippled into the outcomes I wanted.
I voiced this thought, and the crow partially agreed.
“Right, we don’t know the exact sequence, but it could be influencing them.”
“Sequence? What do you mean?”
“Using people’s desires to guide them—and the results might rouse your conscience to spawn a persona to carry out those roles...”
The fox took up the crow’s words and continued,
“Or the persona’s influence on you could let you carry out those acts without remorse. You weren’t like that before, were you?”
I dismissed the notion of “you weren’t like that,” but I couldn’t recall my original self anymore—what I said, how I thought.
“What do you mean, ‘wasn’t like that’?”
“I know you’re trying to rationalize your deeds, but you’re stressed that people you tempted are dying or infected with worms, right?”
“That’s....”
“Yeah, you were ordinary once. Could you really scheme, ‘Several died, several infected, but all according to plan. Heh heh heh—’?”
The crow cut in to clarify,
“A bit overstated, but the noise in your thoughts and feelings is likely madness or another persona influencing you.”
“Every time I act, it’s madness and multiple personalities, huh.”
The fox said I wasn’t originally like this—but now I don’t know who that was, what I sounded like, how I thought.
“Don’t stress too much. Maybe madness isn’t spawning the new persona.”
“What do you mean?”
“A persona with blood-obsession might arise to shift stress from hemophobia; another might form to escape your body and make a new one to handle overwhelming problems.”
“Right—your worries and stresses could spawn new personas.”
“Interesting idea.”
But can someone simply eliminate stress at will? In this Cthulhu World, everything conspires to torment, destroy, humiliate, and kill me.
‘So there’s only one solution?’
Madness, stress, worries—they’re not what’s breaking me. This world is.
This world destroys me. Before it’s too late, I must escape—to return to a safe, peaceful world where I was whole and ordinary.
With resolve, I told the fox and crow,
“I have to return to my original world, no matter what.”
“Mm, right. That makes sense.”
The crow looked uneasy. Why?
“What’s it like there?”
The oblivious fox jumped in,
“Huh?”
“Your original world—what’s it like?”
“What’s it look like?”
These are personalities split from me. Though they share my memories, they’ve developed their own characters.
“Right. I know you keep saying you’ll go back, hoping for it. Is it really that happy and safe?”
“Well—”
I pictured the world before this one: safe, peaceful, where I existed fully as an ordinary human.
“—Of course.”
“So tell me concretely how it differs....”
Rrrring—
My phone rang.
“Hmm, Tudor. Let’s drop this topic—I’ll talk later.”
“Hm, can’t help it. I’ve been waiting for this call.”
...
The fox accepted it without complaint, but the crow watched me oddly.
“Why?”
“Nothing. We’ll discuss later.”
“Okay.”
I waved my right hand—the fox’s shadow faded—and my left hand—the crow’s shadow faded—then answered Tudor’s call.
“Yeah, Tudor. What’s up?”
— Ah, darling. Something fun happened earlier. So I called to share it with my cute darling.
“Fun? That sounds intere—”
Wait—am I dreaming?
A realization struck, like blood rushing from my head. Goosebumps crawled down my skin.
— Darling? Darling? Why’d you stop talking? Everything okay?
Tudor’s voice crackled through the line.
‘Have I been talking all this time to my left and right hands?’
