Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 001
Chapter Title: Let's Become a Mage (1)
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Long ago, back in the days when Zeus was banging fairies left and right.
In some backwater Greek village, there lived a shepherd named Gyges.
One day, he stumbled upon a magic ring that made him invisible.
Using the ring's power, Gyges pulled off thefts without getting caught, amassing a fortune.
Eventually, he sneaked into the kingdom, killed the king, and took the throne for himself.
What an absurd story.
But the most interesting part is that no one could judge Gyges for his crimes.
There was no evidence he killed the king.
What if a person gained the ability to avoid responsibility for their actions...
Say, for example,
if they became invisible like Gyges and their crimes went undetected.
Or if they got their hands on a grimoire capable of causing events beyond human comprehension.
How would they act?
How should they act?
Someone, please tell me.
No matter how casually you pick your college major based on test scores,
if you're poor or an orphan, steer clear of philosophy.
You'll have to scrimp on food to afford textbooks that are utterly useless.
...Well, sociable types can always borrow from upperclassmen.
To add to that, if you're an orphan without much social charm, definitely avoid philosophy.
[Obscure Philosophy Tome - 34,000 won]
"Tch."
I clicked my tongue while staring at the price of the textbook I needed for class in the bookstore.
Every time the professor nonchalantly told us to grab these basic thirty-grand philosophy books, I regretted testing into college on the promise of orphanage scholarships.
Or, like those memes online, I wanted to bury the professor alive.
Last time I complained about buying too many books, he shot back, "Can't even afford thirty thousand won?"
Made me want to curse the bastard out.
Buy one book, then the next, then another—how does that add up to just thirty grand? He's the crazy one.
I never liked philosophy professors to begin with.
"Studied philosophy at Peking University." "Did a stint studying in Germany." "You should go study abroad too."
They toss it out like it's no big deal.
They're all just rich kids who coasted through cushy lives to their PhDs.
I'm the idiot who picked philosophy over Arabic because my scores were meh.
I left the bookstore and headed to that rundown used bookshop I'd passed earlier.
No money, and I sure as hell wasn't paying full price.
Optimistically speaking, this was near campus—maybe someone from my class bought it, regretted the cost after dropping the course, and sold it here.
I stepped into the dusty old shop with its weathered exterior, run by a bespectacled grandpa.
...Places like this still exist? Kinda refreshing, actually.
No way it had a search computer, so I went straight to the counter and asked the old man sitting there.
"Got that Obscure Philosophy Tome?"
"Look over there. If it's not there, it ain't here."
"........."
...Fair enough. If it's gone, it's gone.
I headed to the shelf he pointed at, stacked with thick tomes, and started browsing.
Looked like a jumble of assorted books crammed together.
Book of Moses? Book of Raziel the Angel? Religious stuff too?
There were some oddly named rarities scattered around. Then one book on the shelf caught my eye.
It was too steely to call a book.
"...What the hell is this?"
I pulled out the iron slab boldly sitting on the shelf.
A cold metallic chill seeped into my palm.
It was on the book shelf, so it had to be a book, but the cover was dark iron.
An iron cover? Some deluxe edition?
...What's it about? The title?
The moment Yohan tried to read the title engraved on the iron cover, the letters shimmered and shifted into Korean.
Mysteries of Insects? Written by Faber?
Curious, I flipped it open and skimmed. Despite the title, it wasn't an insect guide.
A magic book? No, grimoire fits better.
Some kind of occult tome, anyway.
Methods for summoning spirits, necromancy, spellcasting—total nonsense, but entertaining.
...This medieval magic lore comp is pretty fun.
Way more interesting than philosophy texts. Neither helps in real life, so the grimoire wins on fun alone.
I flipped to the intro to read properly.
There was a note from the apparent author.
This book was written by a survivor of the Ninth Crusade and explorer of the arcane arts, chronicling the magics learned during captivity in Damascus. The owner of the grimoire Mysteries of Insects shall become master of a familiar rivaling the 'invisible monster' once served by the mad poet Abdul Alhazred: the Transparent Vampire.
⟨ Mysteries of Insects ⟩
I chuckled without thinking.
Transparent Vampire? What, not even bothering with Invisible Dragon?
Still, it hooked the reader. Me, at least.
Of course, I didn't buy the content. Too old for that, and even if I weren't, no way.
Standing there reading felt awkward, so I took the book to the counter.
Just because it piqued my interest. Looked fun.
Normal impulse buy, but something I rarely did.
Orphanage days: no cash for personal books.
Now: only buying required texts. Time to splurge on something I want.
Required books? Skip class without 'em. Whatever.
I plunked the near-iron slab on the counter.
Thud.
"How much?"
"......?"
The old man squinted briefly, like Did we have this?, then adjusted his glasses and said calmly,
"...From that shelf? Thirty thousand won."
Pricey for a used shop, but I'd guessed from the fancy iron cover.
Still, four thousand cheaper than the philosophy book.
"Cash only? Bank transfer?"
"...Card's fine."
Surprising for the rundown vibe.
No bag needed.
Outside, it was dark. Winter nights fall fast.
Head home, grab dinner.
Saved four grand—canned tuna on the way?
Huddled against the chill, book tucked under one arm, I walked the night streets.
Then someone grabbed my upper arm, shoved me aside, and brushed past—with a girl on his arm.
Caught off guard on a wide sidewalk, I glared at the guy's back as he sauntered off coolly.
Too ridiculous to get mad. Just baffled.
Asshole's peacocking for the girl. Hope you trip and die.
To defend myself: I'm not some psycho wishing death over a shove.
Everyone's had that moment, right?
When some jerk bumps you, you think, "Drop dead."
It's exaggerated— not literal murder lust, just "stub your toe" vibes amplified.
...So I wasn't seriously hoping this showboat's guts spilled out in front of his girl.
"Kyaaaaaaaah!"
"Uwaaaaaah!"
A piercing scream of shock, then agonized wails as pain spread—echoing together.
Like a beast pinned by a wolf's jaws, the man's body lifted into the air. Blood streamed from his neck, legs dangling unnaturally.
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
Not understanding but desperate to live, he flailed wildly to fend off whatever had him. But—
Slash—
"A- Aaaaaaaaah!?"
Whatever it was didn't like the struggling; his arm tore clean off, bone and red flesh exposed, blood spraying.
"Heuaaaak—!"
Chunks of neck flesh ripped away, dropping him to the ground. Not dead yet, despite the gash.
"U- Uwaaaaaah!"
Gushing blood, half-mad with survival instinct, he screamed, trying to stand and flee—but couldn't balance without the arm.
...Then the slaughter by the 'invisible something' began.
His body split open boastfully, blood, guts, organs splattering everywhere.
That's when I snapped to.
Not fully sane, but...
The surreal horror thawed my frozen panic; I regained control.
I spun and bolted. Ran for my life.
No scream—save the breath.
Maybe fear overload flipped the switch.
Instead of panic, pure survival mode.
I didn't pull out my phone to film like other bystanders.
Could be me next. No time. Just get away—farthest, fastest.
Ran till my lungs burned.
Ducked into an alley, gasping, dry-heaving, spitting bile.
"Haa... haaak... Keuk—ptui."
Legs shaking, cold air stabbing my lungs.
Worse, lugging the iron book—right arm screaming.
"Huu..."
Relief hit: safe for now.
Then—
Step.
Presence behind me. Goosebumps. Teeth chattering.
...It followed.
Gripped the cold iron book tight with trembling hands.
Too late to run. Pointless fight, but I won't go down easy.
One good smack with the edge.
"........."
Slowly turned. Nothing. Empty alley.
But...
"Kak..."
A beastly growl, hot foul blood-scent breath on my face.
The invisible 'something' was definitely there. Transparent.
Stomach churning. Gonna puke.
"Haa—haa—!"
Heart pounding, pupils dilating. Visions of the guy's gruesome death overlapping.
Chilling slime trailed down my cheek.
"—!"
It licked my face.
"Grrr~."
"Uh...?"
Once, twice—like a huge, playful pup with its owner. Then paused, waiting obediently.
"Gyaak~?"
Brain blank, strength fled; the book slipped from my hand.
Thud—
Coincidence? Or reminder?
Pages flipped open.
The owner of the grimoire Mysteries of Insects shall become master of a familiar rivaling the 'invisible monster' once served by the mad poet Abdul Alhazred: the Transparent Vampire.
⟨ Mysteries of Insects ⟩
I couldn't laugh anymore.