My neck was broken.
But why am I still conscious?
I thought deeply about it, but I couldn’t figure out the reason.
After all, my body still wouldn’t move.
‘I’m definitely dead, but…….’
I had never thought about the afterlife.
I just assumed that everything would end with death, and yet, why am I left in this state?
‘What a shame. There are still so many men I haven’t met yet.’
A woman in a red dress looked at Miyako, who was hanging from a tree branch.
“Oh my, look at this interesting thing.”
“…….”
“How unsightly. You were already ugly, but now you look even worse. Oh my, just look at those flipped-up eyes. And that tongue sticking out! Pfft! You’re really hideous. It’s not easy to be this ugly, you know?”
Her face was mostly covered by a fan, revealing only her eyes.
But no one in this world would question her beauty.
“Of all times, you had to meet me looking like this. Talk about bad luck. This just makes the comparison even worse, doesn’t it?”
Though only her eyes were visible, sometimes one can tell a lot from a little.
There was no need to peek beneath the fan to know that she was a breathtaking beauty.
Even the subtle aura she exuded was enough to shift the entire atmosphere of the place.
“But this is interesting. There aren’t many suicides who stay conscious like this… Did you really want to be beautiful that badly? Ah, I see, you wanted to be like me, didn’t you?”
Miyako had always had a complex about her appearance.
Whenever she saw beautiful women, she couldn’t help but feel hostile.
But strangely, she didn’t feel such resentment toward the mysterious woman before her.
Instead, what she felt was……
‘So, there really are women this beautiful in the world. I bet every man would line up for her. I’m so jealous. I envy her… I envy her so much it’s driving me crazy.’
Jealousy.
And awe.
She didn’t understand why a dead person like herself was feeling such emotions or even thinking at all.
But she decided not to dwell on it.
She had always hated complicated things.
“Honestly, I don’t get why humans are so obsessed with their shells. Once you strip them down, they’re all the same inside.”
‘Hah, as if she’s not human herself. But then again… does it even matter if she is or isn’t? A woman like her must have had men falling at her feet from the moment she was born. How could she possibly understand how miserable it is to be born ugly?’
“Pfft. Hahaha! This is why humans are so amusing. So, you’re saying you feel wronged for being born ugly, right? Then I’ll give you a chance. A chance to be reborn as beautiful as me.”
‘R-Really?’
“Of course! I mean it. But there’s a condition. Nothing in this world comes for free, you know?”
‘Tell me! Whatever it is, I’ll do it!’
“Great! Then, kill a thousand people. Not one more, not one less. Kill exactly a thousand people, and I’ll make you just as beautiful as me.”
‘A thousand people… I can do that! I can kill that many easily!’
“Hahaha! Good, good. Let’s see how well you do.”
With a flick of the red-dressed woman’s finger, Miyako’s once-broken neck stretched and elongated until her body finally fell from the tree.
Twitch.
Slowly, Miyako stood up.
The woman in the red dress handed her a red mask.
“Here, cover that mouth of yours. It’s hideous.”
Taking the mask, Miyako asked, “A thousand people. If I kill exactly a thousand, I can really be like you, right?”
“Yes. That’s right. Why? You don’t believe me?”
Miyako shook her head.
After witnessing a miracle firsthand, there was no reason to doubt.
“No, I’m just happy.”
With those words, Miyako walked away.
The red-dressed woman watched her go, lowering the fan that covered her face.
“I keep telling them, it’s not about the shell.”
As expected, her face was breathtakingly beautiful—enough to send shivers down one’s spine.
Except for one part.
From her nose down, instead of a human mouth, she had five grotesque, beast-like mouth filled with sharp, needle-like teeth.
The horrifying, grotesque mouths moved like tendrils, slicing through the air.
“……Mr. Tae-Seong! Taeseong! Are you alright?”
“How long have I been like this?”
“Huh? What are you talking about? We were just having a conversation. You spaced out all of a sudden, so I got worried.”
‘Time hasn’t changed at all.’
To Taeseong, it felt like more than a year had passed.
But in reality, not even a minute had gone by.
And then he realized something new.
‘The old man who came to mind when I first held the sword… that wasn’t me.’
It was the memory of someone he had killed.
Taeseong was simply recalling the memories of those he had consumed.
‘Right. It did feel too foreign to be my own memory.’
And now, he had a better understanding of what those mysterious crystals—those soul cores—actually were.
‘I still don’t know the exact difference between those who trigger my memories and those who don’t, but…….’
This was already a significant discovery.
On top of that, his physical abilities had improved drastically.
It felt as though his entire body was brimming with power, like he had been reborn.
To test it, he casually swung his hand at the wall beside him.
It was a light movement, no more than a swat at a fly.
CRACK!
A deafening noise echoed as a handprint was left on the wall.
Eunha stared wide-eyed, looking back and forth between the wall and Taeseong.
“T-Taeseong…? What the hell was that?”
“I was just… testing something.”
“First with the Mangtae Harabeom, and now this… Taeseong, do you have some kind of ability to steal or absorb others’ powers?”
Only Taeseong could see the soul cores.
To others, his actions must have seemed bizarre and incomprehensible.
Since he never bothered hiding it, Eunha’s sharp deductions didn’t surprise him.
If anything, he was impressed by how close she had come to the truth with so little information.
“……It’s probably something like that. Even I’m not entirely sure yet.”
“So, you zoned out earlier because of that too?”
He nodded silently.
“That’s an insane ability… And to think you were only rated Epsilon? That doesn’t make sense.”
Eunha pondered for a moment, then continued.
“No way. There’s no way the higher-ups would overlook something like this.”
“…….”
“It’s probably best I don’t get too involved in this. But tell me, do Taesan or Harin know about your ability?”
“They probably don’t.”
Holding her forehead as if she had a headache, Eunha let out a sigh.
More than anyone else, she had witnessed Taeseong’s abilities up close and knew for certain that he was far from being someone of mere ‘Epsilon’ rank.
However, there had to be a reason why he was designated as such.
Whatever that reason was, the higher-ups had judged him to be Epsilon, which meant—reading between the lines—that they wanted it that way.
So far, getting involved in matters like this had never ended well…
“I won’t report anything for now. But if the team leaders ask me directly, I’ll have no choice but to tell the truth. You understand what I mean, right?”
“Yes.”
Honestly, from Taeseong’s perspective, it didn’t matter much.
“I think it’s better if I step aside for now. I’ll go check on Haeyoung, so take your time and finish what you need to.”
“Yes.”
Left alone, Taeseong finally identified the source of the uneasiness that had been gnawing at him throughout his conversation with Eunha.
It was the memory of the red mask.
1,000 people… I might have already killed even more than that. But… what was that?
The woman in the red dress.
It didn’t take a genius to realize she was the one who had given birth to the red mask as an entity.
But the unsettling feeling Taeseong had wasn’t just because of that.
She was definitely looking at me.
It wasn’t just his imagination.
In the red mask’s memories, the woman in the red dress had unmistakably locked eyes with him.
Brushing it off as mere coincidence would be too naive—her gaze had been far too deliberate, too direct.
Most of all, Taeseong himself was sure of it.
That thing had been looking right at him.
It would have been easier to dismiss it as a mistake, but no matter how hard he tried, the eerie sensation wouldn’t fade.
Did she anticipate that someone would see the red mask’s memories? No… Is something like that even possible?
The more he questioned it, the deeper his doubts grew.
And just as he realized how pointless it was to question the possibility, his thoughts came to a halt.
“Useless.”
Possible? Was it possible for an ordinary human to use telekinesis, regrow severed limbs, and get caught in bizarre dimensional shifts?
In a world where the absurd had become the norm, debating possibilities was nothing but a joke.
Yeah, no need to overthink it.
There was always only one answer.
Get stronger.
Mediocre strength only invites more enemies.
Overwhelming power, on the other hand, turns everyone into allies.
Having settled his thoughts, Taeseong moved to join his teammates.
“You’ve sorted things out?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. We’ve decided to stay here until the Japanese administrators arrive. They should be here by tomorrow at the latest, so moving carelessly might only make things worse.”
“I agree.”
“Good. Just rest for now. I’ll take care of everything here. Let’s regroup tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
Taeseong exited the basement with Gi-jun, while Eunha sealed the red mask in a sketchbook and helped Haeyoung to her room.
Early dawn.
Taeseong, awake from his sleep, glanced at Gi-jun, who was snoring loudly.
“Hrrngh… Captain… I missed you so much…”
Perhaps due to exhaustion from recent battles, Gi-jun was in a deep sleep.
After watching him for a moment, Taeseong got up and stepped outside the inn.
A narrow alley, barely wide enough for a single adult man to pass through.
The path was bathed in a carpet of blue moonlight, and Taeseong walked along it slowly.
“……”
Step. Step.
The dissonant chirping of insects among the dew-laden leaves.
The dense forest beyond.
And… a presence.
“Stop hiding and come out.”
From behind a large tree, a towering woman in a wide-brimmed hat peeked out shyly.
“Po… po… po…”
“You’ve been watching the inn for a while now. Seems like you have something to say. Is it because of the others that you didn’t come directly?”
“Po… po… po.”
“You were afraid they’d be scared of you?”
“Po.”
“Interesting.”
It was late at night, and Taeseong had moved outside for one reason only.
His still-sensitive body couldn’t quite ignore the presence of the Eight-Feet-Tall Ghost, who had been observing him from afar.
“So, what do you want to say?”
“…Po. Po.”
The Eight-Feet-Tall Ghost waved her remaining arm.
She was gesturing him over.
Without hesitation, Taeseong approached.
It wasn’t recklessness—just confidence in himself.
As he reached her, she suddenly grabbed his hand.
Then, with clumsy movements, she began to write something on his palm.
“This is…”
One letter. Then another.
Though awkward, each stroke was filled with sincerity.
T H A N K.
Y O U.
