“What did he just say?”
Ah, Baek Beomjin introduced himself. And he even responded to me favorably.
“Celebrity? Hardly.”
I offered a suitably hollow humility while I studied Baek Beomjin.
Hair so white it felt artificial.
A somber face where dignity, elegance, and shadow coexisted—Rembrandt came to mind.
A plain, neutral-tone suit that almost looked frugal for a man of his wealth. A silver cane of peculiar design bracing his left side.
Exactly the same as what I saw in [Cthulhu World].
“The same?”
No—something’s off.
The game’s lore gives Baek Beomjin’s age as thirty-nine.
A little too old to be a “youth,” far too young to be “middle-aged.”
But the Baek Beomjin standing before me looked, at once, like an aged elder no one would believe was forty—and like a boy improbably young. I can’t describe his appearance any more clearly than that, even to myself thinking it through now.
What is clear is the alien air about him—so strong it’s hard to believe he’s the same “human” as me.
“I killed him once, long ago.”
Gong Isu’s words bubble up.
Gong Isu was Feast’s Offering from his early teens, right?
One of the enemies who threatened him back then was Baek Beomjin, master of Helistic, and thanks to this Baek Beomjin the kid scraped past death more than once.
In short, a lunatic who fights at full tilt even against a child.
Well, I don’t need Gong Isu’s memories to know Baek Beomjin is insane.
He’s one of the endgame villains that make up [Cthulhu World].
But in a way, he and I are “not yet” anything to each other.
So what do I say to him?
“What were you looking at?”
That’s one of the dialogue choices a [Cthulhu World] player can pick in this situation.
If this is like the game, Baek Beomjin will answer like this now.
“I was admiring those charming siblings.”
Exactly the reply I expected.
“Damn it.”
But there’s a problem.
That voice.
A loathsome voice like a transparent finger boring through your temple to scrape your brain.
A voice that tunnels into the inside of your skull and, hunting for an exit, feels like it’s trying to push your eyes out.
Just hearing Baek Beomjin’s voice makes me want to vomit.
How do you even produce a voice like that?
“Look there. Aren’t they all extraordinarily ideal in appearance?”
“...”
Barely—just barely—I managed to turn my head and follow his gaze.
The main attraction of this preposterously lavish ball is, of course, the Mun siblings, with looks like gold polished by silk.
“Mm, a pleasure.”
“Hahaha, thank you.”
“Oh, what a distinguished guest.”
“Allow me to tell you something remarkable.”
The twelve Mun siblings, excluding Mun Seunghee, were scattered around the hall competing in handsome and beautiful—
No.
They were competing in social influence.
Watching them, Baek Beomjin whispered with a mischievous smile where innocence and craft tangled together.
“It was a finicky job, but seeing them all so well grown—I am most satisfied.”
A chill crept down my spine.
The setup itself doesn’t surprise me; I already knew it. The revulsion and rejection I’m feeling—the alienness—comes from Baek Beomjin alone.
I want to shout at him not to come closer and fire off attack magic. I want to scrap every plan I prepared and kill him right now. Eliminate him, this instant.
Before I could do anything, Baek Beomjin dipped his head slightly and asked:
“How fares Mun Gyeongnam?”
“I killed him.”
Baek Beomjin turned from the siblings to look at me.
“Come to think of it—he isn’t blinking.”
He was arranging the muscles of his face and the placement of his features to generate a handful of expressions, but the basic reflexes a human body should perform were absent.
Even that was only one among the countless parts that made up his alienness.
As if I were staring at a “mask” operating on some grotesque mechanism.
“What did you do with the body?”
Oh, shut up.
I wanted to clutch my head. I didn’t want to hear that voice. My eyes stung. I wanted to scream. I wanted my thoughts to stop. Dizzy. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts...
“I—I threw it away.”
What words are coming out of my mouth?
Everything looked distant and fog-blurred, like a film projected on a faraway screen.
And in that unreal world, Baek Beomjin existed with obscene clarity.
“Answer again. This time, think about what I intended with the question.”
He stared with those unblinking eyes. Those glassy, monstrous pupils reflected the masked face I wore.
I must grant his wish. Question, answer. Question, answer. Question, answer.
What was the intent of his question?
“U-under Ulsan Rock. B-because of a sealing array, r-retrieval is impossible...”
“Good thing a spare was prepared.”
His gaze slid to Mun Seunghee.
[System : ‘Abyssal Madness’ activates. The confusion lodged in your mind vanishes.]
[crackle]
A prickling noise from the spark that snapped off my temple.
The soft music and the voices cut off, and every eye in the ballroom swung to me in unison.
Awkward. But that isn’t the problem right now.
“Damn it. What did you just do to me?”
“I merely asked a question.”
He answered slowly, with the kindly face of an old man.
A voice leaking from his mouth, horrific for how gentle it tried to be.
Rage surged hot enough to burn my judgment. Shame and humiliation crashed in late. My magic started to move in an aggressive pattern.
And at the same time—
[System : The trait ‘Heightened Vigilance’ activates.]
This is a ballroom where the powerful are draped in costly jewels and glittering labels, like a medieval masquerade.
To serve as their accessories, superhumans and well-known ability users from every field had also gathered here, as guards or guests.
In an instant, the ability users rushed in and ringed me.
“You’re Kim Sinhwa?”
“So you really are a lunatic—even for a high-tier mage.”
“Do not move another inch.”
“Mage or not, you can’t handle this many at this range.”
Most were empty-handed or held things too sloppy to be called weapons, but the warning they sent couldn’t be brushed off as a joke.
I’m not in the mood to navigate this gracefully. Either way, I’m in a game with a lot of freedom.
I could choose to kill every obstacle and bolt like an outlaw...
“Uwaah! I’m sorry!”
A short girl popped out of nowhere and wedged herself between me and the ability users.
“Our Director just did something extremely insulting and rude and bizarre, and it looks like Mr. Kim—no, this guest was rightly angered! Everyone, please forgive our Director’s antics!”
Shorter than Curtain Call.
A face and voice that could only belong to someone in their early teens.
Gold Moon, one of Helistic’s officers. She was one of the people who got tangled in that pasta incident last time by accident.
“Guest? We’re really sorry. We’ve worked together before, right? For my sake, could you let it slide just this once?”
Her expression said: You owe me one. Pay up now.
“Our Director will apologize too. Right? Director?”
Now she shot Baek Beomjin a look that said, Hey, you say something too. Now.
He glanced between Gold Moon, me, and the surroundings... then fixed briefly on a point in the hall. Others wouldn’t see it—but I could tell.
Chairman Mun Taeik of Yeonam Group was over there.
Whatever signal Mun Taeik sent, Baek Beomjin gave a light nod, then spoke to me—and loud enough for everyone else to hear as well.
“I must have spoken too hastily because I wanted to befriend you. I never imagined you had such a past in childhood. Forgive me for failing to show proper consideration.”
Damn it. He’s exploiting the fact no one heard the earlier talk—just spewing anything he wants.
With [Spatial Dominion] and [Heightened Vigilance] both active, I could read every face at once—and realized Baek Beomjin’s voice sounded unpleasant only to me.
“No—it’s worse than that.”
They found his voice immensely attractive.
It was like that used-car swindler named Armor I met the other day—if his trait were boosted to an extreme.
Baek Beomjin, with a playful look, extended the hand not resting on his cane.
“Kh—”
For a second I didn’t comprehend the gesture and nearly hurled a spell—
“It isn’t necessary. I overreacted. Thank you for speaking so generously.”
That wasn’t me talking.
“Sinhwa. Calm down! Why are you this shaken?”
[The Crow], one of the other personas tangled up inside me, burst out and spoke in my stead.
“Idiot. Get a grip.”
[The Fox] shoved in too.
Damn it.
How scattered am I?
Even in that rattling fight with Gong Isu, this didn’t happen.
In the end I moved with Baek Beomjin in a way others would read as a simple “handshake.”
“Thank you.”
Still holding my hand, he leaned a touch closer and whispered:
“The host seems uncomfortable, so I’ll take my leave.”
“...Please do.”
“And you understand you’ll need more preparation the next time you meet me, yes?”
He tipped his chin toward his cane as he said it.
Unlike the handshake, that motion was simple to parse, and I could answer appropriately with ease.
“I’ll bring it.”
“Good. Then let’s meet again in a finer place.”
Right after the handshake, Baek Beomjin excused himself briefly to Mun Gyeongha and left the hall with Gold Moon.
Good.
His presence would only get in the way of tonight’s event.
Ah, perfect. The worst.
“You idiot. I knew you’d start something. Can’t even read the room—ugh, tch tch—”
Of all people, I didn’t expect to hear that from Curtain Call.
But I have nothing to say back.
I really did lose my cool and nearly make trouble. With my mood a tangle in too many directions, I took the scolding in silence.
“What did that monster say to you?”
At least Curtain Call seemed outside Baek Beomjin’s range.
“He had the twin of my sword.”
“Twin? Twin of what?”
The oddly designed cane he held—that was the Four Tigers Demon-Severing Sword.
A blade forged to carry the sacred tiger’s force and cut down evil existences.
The opposite of the Four Tigers Righteous-Severing Sword I own—and forgot to bring tonight.
“You saw my blade before, right?”
“That skewer? That was important?”
Curtain Call’s weapon criteria are simple: can it convert her monstrous strength and speed into destruction?
A magic-adjacent auxiliary like the Righteous-Severing Sword would be a trinket to her.
“...For anyone who can use magic or sorcery even a little, it’s important.”
“Hmph. Anyway, keep your head on straight. I’ll cover you for old times’ sake, but I’m not omnipotent.”
That’s what I told Mun Seunghee.
“Damn it, stop teasing me...”
“Colly, Kim Sinhwa—look. Something’s happening.”
Fidgeting the whole time, Baukalak hurriedly cut in and pointed toward the center of the hall.
I’d already felt the shift in atmosphere. At some point, the chatter died and everyone was looking in one direction.
“The Chairman is arriving.”
An elderly man in a powered wheelchair rigged with IV fluid and breathing assistance rolled into the ballroom.
Chairman Mun Taeik.
The slaughter is about to start.
