Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: The Mysterious Core
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Core.
Usually, discoveries like this come with a more dramatic and fantastical atmosphere, but at least in my case, it was different.
The first reason was that I'd never even imagined it would be under the bed, and the second was how it was embedded in the floor, like a parasite burrowing through skin.
And if I had to pick the biggest reason of all...
I don't know.
"What do you mean you don't know? It's something that showed up in the room you formed!"
The most important person involved had no clue.
It was like a drunk driver denying they caused the accident.
If it had been some secret they'd been hiding until now, or a vital spot that would kill them if touched, at least that would make sense.
"You got dementia or something? How do you not remember any of this?"
Even so, I hadn't sensed a thing up until now.
"But doesn't it look super important just from seeing it? It's even stuck in the floor."
If I had to describe it, it's like a crystal stained with blood, with stubborn smears that won't wash off in spots.
I'd never seen a crystal like this in my life.
"You really don't remember?"
Yeah.
"But it's embedded in your body, and you're way too calm about it."
No problems so far, so no big deal.
Hard to argue with that line of thinking.
Of course, there's always the chance the Shop is lying to me.
Hell, at this point, it'd be easier to assume everything it says is a lie.
But it didn't take long to realize that was a pointless worry.
If that core was something helpful to us, it wouldn't have lied from the start. And if it's the Shop's weakness, then whether it lies or not doesn't matter.
So it's just easier to assume even the Shop forgot about it.
I could finish cleaning up and go to bed like nothing happened, but I'm human—the species that built civilization on curiosity and selfishness alone.
I can't reach the Shop's emotionless enlightenment.
"Then... mind if I smack it once?"
Doesn't the Shop protect its own vital spots?
If it doesn't even realize it's there, maybe it's not that important.
No way, for real?
"Yeah."
Do you even know what's important in your own body?
"Hmm... heart or brain? Or maybe the spine."
What about your kidneys? Small intestine? What if your tailbone vanished?
"Uh..."
Same difference.
Of course, removing it might have zero effect on me, but it could go the other way too.
No living thing can fully understand every part of itself.
It's acting all nonchalant, but deep down, it's anxious too.
So the next word out of my mouth can only be one thing.
"Scared?"
You think I'd fall for cheap provocation like that?
"Scared?"
...What kind of elementary school taunt is this?
Since you don't seem to get it, let me explain in detail: I didn't refuse your suggestion because I chickened out.
If I did that and some unforeseen problem cropped up, both you and I could end up in some incomprehensible mess.
In other words, it's not fear—it's my benevolence considering your safety, you fool.
Anyway, a flood of text popped up out of nowhere, and I couldn't read most of it.
The only part I got was that the Shop was pretty pissed.
"Yeah, it could be scary."
What the hell did you even hear?
Let me explain again for your dumb ass—
"Mm. Yeah, goodnight."
Hold up, my explanation isn't over yet.
That night, I slept more deeply than I had in ages.
'Th... that ■■'s core... but ...senpai? Why the hell...'
Because I didn't remember a single dream.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A cloudless sky, sunlight piercing its glory to smack against the blackout curtains.
Normal people would be waking up around now to start their day, but two rooms in the hotel had been neatly tidied long ago.
The early birds' owner walked through the streets amid restaurants prepping for business.
"Squad Leader, what's the point of coming out this early?"
Tae-jun's occasional habit of talking back to his superior irked Se-jin, but the Bureau was full of types like that, so he let it slide.
"The press isn't our jurisdiction anyway, and there's nothing we can do before then."
"Tsk. Tae-jun, why pick fights?"
"...Sorry. I'll watch my tone."
Se-jin wasn't nagging Tae-jun over his speech out of some grudge—he hadn't forgotten they needed to wait for the Shop to open before doing anything useful.
Se-jin turned to Do-hyun.
In times like these, no one bolstered him like his earnest, upright subordinate.
"...Tae-jun has a point, to some extent. Until the Shop opens, there's no real reason to head out early."
"See, Do-hyun? Feeling better already?"
"Yes."
"?"
The conversation didn't resume until Do-hyun's pocket buzzed.
"What is it?"
"Squad Leader, that guy's shown up."
His eyes sharpened.
How many people had that bastard eaten?
And to cut ties with its long-standing grudge, they'd even used spatial rifts.
Riiip—
Space tore open with black paper.
Stepping inside, the familiar screech of Scotch tape and pencil warped reality.
When he came to, a small neighborhood stationery store stood before them.
Ignoring the dizziness, they flung open the trash bin lid out front.
"Hehe! Found ya? I'm gonna eat good!"
Inside the bin was a ragged homeless man, mouth torn grotesquely wide, blood dribbling everywhere.
"Finally caught you, you fucking freak."
This was all for capturing the "Homeless Man in the Trash Bin."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Tale Management Bureau, 21st floor above ground—Research Lab.
Two researchers were having a brief chat.
"Things were nonstop for a while, but it's been quiet lately."
"Tell me about it. Ugh, just two weeks ago, overtime was endless."
"You worked hard..."
"..."
One sipped their tea.
Signal for a topic shift.
"We've already proven multiple times that Tales can be artificially created through experiments."
"Yeah."
"And just spreading stories makes them form pretty easily—easier than expected."
"We were worried it'd leak back then."
If civilians had this chat, the Bureau would come knocking, but it was standard talk for researchers.
It would've been the perfect conversation if it ended there, but it deepened.
"What if... when creating a new Tale, we frame the story like it's existed since way back?"
"...What do you mean?"
"Like, say we make a new Tale about something hiding in trash bins and eating people."
"Okay."
"But we build the story around it having existed for 10 years."
"Oh..."
"Would the Tale fail to form? Or change?"
"Or maybe... our memories, perceptions, and even history could shift."
The lab was already cool from constant AC, but the chill they felt now was different.
A brief silence.
Civilians might chicken out fearing the Bureau, but researchers—Bureau ones at that—dismissed boogeyman tales as fairy tales.
"Wanna try?"
"Sure."
They moved fast.
They commandeered an unused lab, yanked out theory books at random.
Next up: crafting the story.
No writers among them, but it turned out decent enough.
Finally: spreading it.
Pre-internet, it'd be the toughest part, but 21st-century web made it a breeze.
"Posting now."
If caught, severe punishment awaited—but filling intellectual voids with knowledge was worth more.
About an hour later...
Wooo-woo-woo—!
A sudden siren blared.
"Ah, looks like that guy's finally surfaced."
"The trash bin lurker that eats people?"
"Dodged us good for 10 years. Tail finally caught."
"Tch. Can't be helped—'Do Tales naturally dissipate?' research can wait."
On a day that should have been recorded, but no one noticed history's shift so it went unrecorded, the Bureau's brilliant researchers altered history with a new Tale.