The Vulgar Dancers

"You've been awfully quiet for a while, haven't you? Did you get lonely with me gone? I heard you were searching for me like a man possessed~"

"...Before we get into that, did you do this to these two?"

The woman leapt onto the mattress like a child bouncing on a bed, throwing herself down and humming as she enjoyed the springs with a body that wasn't hers. I pointed at Noa and Isabel, who had been bickering only moments ago but now stood frozen like ice. The answer to my question was obvious.

"Yes. I wanted to talk with you alone. The rest are just in the way."

"You want to talk to me? I don't particularly want to."

I ignored the mask as it patted the spot beside it, inviting me to sit, and lowered myself into a chair instead. After a quick glance at the two people trapped in their own suspended time, I lit a cigarette.

"Are you sulking because I ignored you last time? Ahaha, how petty."

"........"

I glared at the mask while it continued its meaningless banter and exhaled a stream of smoke. It cleared its throat with an awkward hem, as if it wasn't completely oblivious despite acting like a child. Then it rose from its seat, approached slowly, and stood directly before me, staring down into my eyes in silence.

A short, strangely awkward tension filled the quiet. I swallowed hard, and then...

"I really like you, you know."

"...What the—"

With a dull thud, the wooden chair leg scraped against the floor. The mask suddenly straddling my lap was the last thing I expected. The soft warmth of a woman's skin, the heavy perfume invading my nostrils, the light weight pressing against ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my whole body—I let out a small groan before I could stop myself, completely thrown off.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"This kind of woman isn't to your taste? Even after becoming a man, you're still trying to push a woman away."

"You don't even have a gender to begin with. You're just a wooden plank... If you have something to say, spit it out and get out of that body. The perfume is making me nauseous."

I grabbed the small shoulders that had nestled against me and shoved them back firmly. The mask let out a sulky little sound from its throat. Just as I thought I'd curbed its reckless advance, it lunged at me again, laughing softly against my ear. Then it spoke in an unbearably seductive voice.

"That's right. I'm neither man nor woman. You asked about my purpose last time, didn't you?"

"...Ugh?!"

The hot breath against my eardrum made me flinch and pull back, only to find the cold, rough wooden mask staring straight at me. Laughter, excitement, and some unfathomable emotion swirled across its surface as it wrapped its arms around its own shoulders.

"I want to become a witch."

"...What?"

"I'll regain my power, obtain my own body, and become a witch."

It was a dark, repulsive dream that not even kindergarten children would entertain. The villain who appeared in nearly every fairy tale, tormenting the heroes with wicked magic and poison. The word witch—wrinkled, eccentric, malicious—wasn't something to laugh off. Especially not when it came from an entity whose true nature I couldn't begin to guess, rather than some little girl dreaming of becoming a princess.

"You don't need to ask what that means. I made you a promise last time. No matter what worries you have, I won't do anything that harms your era."

The mask cut me off as if it already knew what I would say, then laughed lightly. I tried not to show it, but cold sweat had been trickling down my sideburns since earlier. I had no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠idea what this thing was talking about. That ignorance made me tense, sent goosebumps racing across my skin, and yes—even made me afraid. The eeriness that came from the unknown felt like something no human could possibly endure.

"...Why are you telling me your purpose now? You clearly said you couldn't trust me before."

This was only our second conversation. The mask's voice during our first talk had been completely different from the one I heard now. Back then, using Haemi's voice, it had carried wariness, distrust, arrogance that looked down on me, and open mockery. Now, the voice held trust, goodwill, and a friendly playfulness directed at me.

Was that supposed to be a good thing? This was the same entity that had threatened to take my life in place of semen or alcohol if I didn't offer it during our first meeting. After staying silent for so long, it suddenly shows up, flips its entire attitude, and acts friendly? There was no way this was benign.

The mask nodded as if it understood the suspicions I still harbored, then gently stroked my cheek with a tender hand.

"Yes, honestly I still don't completely trust you. But as of today, we've boarded the same ship, haven't we?"

"Same ship...?"

"You turned the Witch Hunters into Saintesses. That made me think I could trust you at least a little. After all, for me to achieve my goal and for you to keep your life, we'll need to pool our strength together."

Witch Hunters. It was referring to Noa and Isabel. If so, the mask wasn't entirely wrong. I had taken the two members of the organization that knew about the mask and had tried to seize both it and my life, and turned them into Saintesses. It was only natural that the organization would come after me once they learned the truth. Isabel had devised a temporary plan for that very reason: disguise the dead Jaehyuk as the mask's owner, and present themselves as Saintesses born from him.

If Noa and Isabel both took their own lives, it would completely push me outside the mask's shadow. But that was still only a temporary measure. Isabel had said the plan ended there, but I didn't believe it would be that simple. One way or another, if things went according to her plan, the mask would inevitably end up on this small patch of land called South Korea. Even if not, an organization that lost two members wouldn't sit idle.

For those two reasons, a new pursuer from the organization was bound to set foot in Korea, and I had no confidence my tracks would remain hidden. If anything, the odds of them finding me again were even higher.

That meant I needed power and means to resist the next hunter who came. Using Isabel and Noa—my greatest assets right now—as disposable decoys wasn't a wise choice.

Most importantly, this encounter had proven I held many cards they didn't know about. I couldn't count on drawing a good hand again next time. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I needed to gather new information and new strength. In that sense, cooperating with the mask as it suggested didn't seem like a bad option.

It still felt incredibly uncomfortable, but no one knew more about the mask than the mask itself.

"...I don't completely trust you either. I don't want to die, and I need to protect the people around me."

"That's the spirit~ A healthy dose of suspicion is necessary in any business relationship. You never know when your partner might stab you in the back, right? So let's work together properly this time."

"What do I need to do?"

The mask smiled with clear delight and gently wrapped both arms around me.

"What you need to do is exactly what you've been doing. Turn women into Saintesses, ravish them, and offer me alcohol. In return, I'll recover my power through that alcohol and lend it to you. It'll definitely be useful."

"...That's it? Then what about everything you've taken from me until now? Where did it all go?"

"I've been using it to erode your humanity. But don't worry. Your monstrous mental strength kept your personality completely intact."

".........."

The way the brakes in my mind had stopped working after I picked up the mask. The way my desire control had grown increasingly difficult lately. So it really had all been this bastard's doing... In truth, I'd already suspected as much when Isabel and Noa showed me photos of the "men who picked up the mask." The mask had been making blatantly extractive gestures toward me the entire time.

"Aah, I won't do that anymore. Unlike before, it seems you're willing to do things properly now. Consuming a human's personality takes far more effort than you'd think."

"......"

I looked away from the mask that had been acting so chummy and playful. This alliance was purely for my safety and the safety of those within my reach. I did not trust this thing completely.

I recalled the photos of those men—humanity stolen, desires sucked dry, left as withered mummies. This was a dangerous entity that spoke of how it had killed those men and failed to do the same to me as if it were lighthearted banter between friends.

I would borrow its power and knowledge, but I would not trust it. I etched the warning into my heart: be cautious, always cautious. At the very least, the mask surely knew I was thinking exactly this. After all, from its perspective, it couldn't fully trust me either.

".........."

".........."

We stared at each other in heavy silence, an unpleasant exchange of upward and downward gazes, until the mask moved first to break the mood. It produced my wallet, which had somehow ended up in its possession.

"Ah, hey you...!"

"Ey, no need to look so worried. I won't steal your money. I have zero interest in wealth~ Consider this a gift to celebrate our new friendly relationship. I hope you like it."

With those words, the mask pulled out the black card from inside the wallet. It was the Myth Motel card key—the one Haemi's mother had given me. The mask spun it playfully between its fingers, then spat a sticky, viscous liquid onto the black surface.

From the small gap in the old wooden mask, translucent, glistening mucus flowed out and soaked the card.

"...Ugh... What the hell is that? It's disgusting."

"I liked this room. What do you think about using it as our secret hideout?"

Still smiling slyly while emitting that repulsive fluid, the mask held out the mucus-drenched card key. The moment I took it, the liquid vanished into the card like a sponge absorbing water. The black surface turned pure white, marbled with swirling patterns of black and white like luxurious stone.

The instant my reluctant fingers closed around it, the surroundings began to shake violently.

The table rattled. Water in the plastic bottle rippled, forming droplets. The entire building trembled as if caught in an earthquake. The flickering lights and the crashes of objects hitting the floor swallowed my groan. After one last mad flicker, the lights went completely dark. My vision plunged into blackness, and all I could hear was the mask's laughter as it slid off my lap.

"Wait...! What the hell did you just do?!"

I swung my hand toward the laughter and immediately hit a solid wall much closer than expected. My palm filled with soft volume and enveloping warmth. Hard little nubs brushed my fingertips, followed by the sensation of warm clay. The moment I realized what I was touching, light returned to my eyes.

Overhead stretched a night sky embedded with stars so vivid they looked ready to pour down like jewels. The motel room had transformed into an elegant garden resembling an ancient temple, where nature and marble architecture existed in perfect harmony. A wide space, trees whose leaves gently filtered the sky, and behind me—a massive bed.

Before me stood two women. One held a plate of fruit, the other a bottle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of liquor and glasses. Their jade-green eyes sparkled.

Golden ornaments adorned their heads, chests, and fully exposed nipples. They wore translucent white fabric so thin and light it seemed it might scatter with a breath—wrapped around their breasts, draped around their waists like robes, and worn as veils that hid empty smiles.

It was Isabel and Noa, dressed in outfits that might as well have been complete nudity.

Isabel didn't seem to mind my hand resting on her breast at all. She smiled sweetly and gave the piercing on her nipple a playful shake, making it jingle. Though partially veiled by the white cloth, the feminine curves visible through the sheer material stole my gaze.

The two women, wearing what looked like medieval dancer costumes crudely modified into whore's attire, bowed their heads with elegant grace and spoke in unison.

* *