Chapter 184
Chapter 184
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 184
Chapter Title: Dopamine
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1
A mirror signifies gazing upon oneself, self-objectification, enlightenment, self-awareness, attention, and the like.
But the bathroom mirror is the exception.
The bathroom mirror represents the polar opposite: humanity's baseless self-confidence, the failure of self-objectification, an excessive overestimation of one's own appearance, ignorance, and blindness.
And in my vicinity lurks a being worthy of the title "The Bathroom Mirror of the Korean Peninsula."
Sim A-ryeon? No—even Sim A-ryeon pales in comparison and must be deemed normal by contrast.
The Bathroom Mirror of the Korean Peninsula. The lord of blindness.
That protagonist is none other than.
"This Marquis is the marquis of Yuldo Kingdom."
"……."
"Furthermore, the greatest under heaven and the unparalleled genius of past and present!"
The Sword Marquis, an old coot with an uncanny talent for draining the listener's sanity every time he introduces himself.
"Old timer."
"……."
"…Marquis."
"Hmm? Oh ho, Undertaker comrade. There you are. This Marquis failed to sense your presence. As expected of the comrade who has cultivated the supreme inner energy of the Three Hans—your ability to suppress your aura is no mere trifle!"
"……."
My temples were already throbbing, but I couldn't just run away.
There was a deep reason for this.
It was the 671st round. No Do-ha, the Sword Marquis's dedicated civil servant and the old man with maxed-out social skills limited to seniors, had unfortunately collapsed from Void Poison infection.
For a pathogen to crawl into No Do-ha of all people, when there was no one else in the world to infect—truly a microbe of remarkable courage.
In any case, thanks to that, I was the only one left who could negotiate with the Sword Marquis old coot and secure a deal.
If you're asking whether the National Highway Management Corps lacks talent that badly… yeah. It does. What do you expect in an apocalypse?
The talent pool on the Korean Peninsula after the collapse of civilization could go toe-to-toe with the state of Shu right after the Three Kingdoms debacle.
Explanation over.
"Marquis, it's your turn this week to grace the Gimhae Plains and bless the soil with your footsteps, so why did you vanish without a word? This is about to ruin the entire spring harvest."
"Pah! It's precisely because you're obsessed with such vulgar enterprises that the world has fallen into such chaos! This Marquis bears a far weightier mission!"
If we scrap those vulgar enterprises, the entire populace around Busan starves to death.
And once Busan falls, the whole infrastructure of the peninsula collapses like dominoes.
I etched the character for "endure" into my heart and plastered on my salesman smile.
"…I failed to comprehend your intent, Marquis. If even you deem it weighty, it must surely be a grave matter."
"Ha ha. Now you're speaking sense. This is why I cherish you, Brother Jang."
"If it wouldn't be presumptuous, might I inquire as to the nature of this weighty mission?"
"Of course!"
Clack.
The Sword Marquis drew something from his sleeve (yes, those ridiculously long historical drama sleeves) and placed it on the table.
"Behold! If you only knew the ordeal this Marquis has endured on account of this bizarre and pernicious thing!"
I saw it.
The item the Sword Marquis called "bizarre and pernicious" was indeed peculiar if you just looked at its exterior.
First off, the stalk was elongated. And clinging to the stalk were dozens of small, round things like bug eggs.
The stalk was green, the "eggs" yellow.
Question here. What is this?
"…Marquis."
"Yes? What is it, Brother Jang?"
"Isn't this just… rice?"
Correct.
The "bizarre and pernicious thing" was none other than rice. The original form of "rice," something no Korean could possibly mistake.
At my retort, the Sword Marquis let out heavy sighs.
"Heaven help us. Even a man like Brother Jang cannot discern its true nature at a glance?"
What drivel—like a ghost gnawing on perilla seeds.
"My apologies. This one's insight is still too shallow… What is this thing that looks like rice?"
"Opium."
"Pardon?"
"Opium, I say. Have you never heard of it? Inhale it carelessly, and calamity strikes—it's a fiendish substance!"
No.
I knew exactly what opium was. Slice open a poppy pod, and the plant's sap flows out; refine it, and you get opium.
It even works as a painkiller, so old folks in rural areas secretly grew it in their kitchen gardens.
Legend has it that, true to the Korean habit of turning anything into namul side dish, there was once such a thing as poppy namul in ancient times.
The problem was that the plant before my eyes looked like rice no matter how I turned it.
"So, what Your Excellency means is… that if one chews and eats these bizarre, rice-grain-like things, it produces the same effects on a human as smoking opium?"
"Precisely! Ah."
The Sword Marquis tossed it out casually.
"But the effects aren't exactly identical to opium. No addictiveness."
"—Hold on."
My hand unconsciously grabbed the Sword Marquis's shoulder.
"…? What's wrong?"
"No addictiveness? Did you just say this rice-opium has zero addictiveness?"
"Indeed."
"Marquis. If this is truly a plant akin to opium—a sort of narcotic component—then consuming it would make people feel extremely good. Right?"
"Mm. Yes."
"But the fundamental issue with all narcotics lies in addiction and dependency. The more you consume, the more you crave, tolerance builds, and without it, your brain rewires so you feel no happiness at all. Let's call all these side effects 'addictiveness' for convenience."
"Do as you please."
"I'll ask again. Marquis. Does this rice-opium truly have absolutely no 'addictiveness' whatsoever?"
"Heavens. I told you it does—why keep asking?"
"……."
Flash.
Equations raced through my mind in an instant.
Narcotic - addictiveness - all side effects = ?
"No way! Then this isn't a narcotic at all!"
"Hm?"
The Sword Marquis tilted his head.
"What an odd reaction. When did this Marquis ever call it a narcotic? I said opium. Opium has ever been the insidious plant brought by Europe's vile imperialists to ravage the Central Plains…"
"Cultivate it immediately! This!"
Grab. Now I clutched both his shoulders.
"Head to the Gimhae Plains, catch up on the delayed farming, and grow this—whatever it's called, rice-opium or what have you!"
"What?"
The Sword Marquis snorted derisively.
"Hah! This source of all evil should be burned at once, but out of regard for Brother Jang's face, this Marquis deigned to report it—and now you want me to cultivate it myself? Impossible! No matter what, I shall never grow it!"
"We'll cultivate this and distribute it to Europe's imperialists to settle our ancient grudge."
"I shall cultivate it right now, brother."
Two weeks passed.
The Sword Marquis threw himself into farming with unprecedented zeal, so the rice-opium (addictiveness ZERO) sprouted vigorously.
And we immediately commenced testing.
"Um, why did you summon me, Guild Leader?"
"The Sword Marquis swore it has no side effects whatsoever, but if it's a scam, you'll have to handle the fallout, A-ryeon."
"Eek… I've been super busy lately. I only came because you personally asked, Guild Leader…"
"Yeah. Thanks."
I brushed off Sim A-ryeon's words.
Ever since her inauguration as a saintess from the North, she'd taken to flaunting how "I'm seriously swamped" around everyone.
In any event, the new drug testing site drew a crowd from all walks of life.
Among them was No Do-ha, who had just risen from her sickbed.
"But is it really possible for an opium with absolutely no side effects? I understand that the very mechanism by which opium induces pleasure fundamentally damages the brain…"
"I don't know either. According to the Sword Marquis's testimony, it's a plant he stumbled upon in the Void. Anything can happen in the Void, so maybe a side-effect-free narcotic was born there."
"Sounds like total bullshit…"
I agreed.
But if it wasn't bullshit?
Then we'd need to revise the very concept of "narcotics." Just medicine. A panacea, even.
"Alright, everyone. Pay attention."
The people gathered at the testing site all turned to me.
"First, we'll conduct tests on five prisoners from the National Highway Management Corps jail afflicted with 'murder addiction' anomalies. We'll test the rice-opium's effects in solid, liquid, and gaseous forms."
"……."
"In case side effects manifest over the long term, the experiments will run in 1-year, 3-year, 10-year, 20-year, and 50-year increments. Yes, Sim A-ryeon over there. Why are you raising your hand?"
"Guild Leader… couldn't I try inhaling a bit just for testing…?"
"No. Commence testing."
The prisoners were isolated separately.
Dark isolation chambers. Prisoners entered rooms where nothing was visible beyond pitch blackness.
Each was given a bundle brimming with rice-opium.
-Send me out of here!
-I was wrong! I swear I'll never kill an innocent life again! Please forgive me!
Bang bang—.
Faint thuds against the walls echoed weakly, too subtle for ordinary ears.
Before each of the five chambers sat a "red button."
[Press to advance 1 year.]
Pressing the red button made a full year pass inside the chamber.
Twice for two years. Two hundred times for two hundred.
Theoretically, billions of years were possible.
Naturally, the chambers and buttons themselves constituted a single anomaly.
No need to drink water or eat inside—no risk of starvation.
But sleep? Impossible.
Escape without someone opening the door from outside? Impossible.
A perfect prison.
One of the National Highway Management Corps's most frequently used anomalies.
With this, they could impose a thousand-year sentence and actually detain criminals for a millennium.
Crime rates plummeted after its introduction. Life sentences became more dreaded than death.
"Then, Corps Commander No Do-ha. Execute the 1-year sentence first."
"Sigh. Understood…"
Click. No Do-ha pressed the button before Chamber 1.
The banging inside accelerated wildly—bangbangbangbangbang—.
But only for a moment. The wall-thumping ceased within 0.01 seconds.
"One second has passed. Shall we retrieve him…?"
"Yes, bring him out."
Corps members approached and opened the door to Chamber 1.
Typically, inmates finishing their "sentence" emerged insane.
It was only natural. Confined alone for as short as two months or as long as 150,000 years (there was a real case), no one could stay sane.
Drooling, muttering endlessly to themselves, or mentally dead like corpses.
But this time was different.
"Huh?"
The Chamber 1 inmate appeared perfectly fine.
He was munching away on the preserved rice-opium grains.
"Has a year already passed?"
"……."
"Whew, what a relief. I was so bored I thought I'd die. Ahaha. So I'm free now, right? I swear I'll never commit a crime again!"
The Chamber 1 inmate grinned broadly.
No signs of psychosis or Void Poison infection anywhere. The inmate truly looked healthy, utterly free of side effects.
"Hmm…"
"Mm."
No Do-ha and I exchanged glances.
We proceeded to the next tests immediately. No Do-ha pressed the red buttons 3, 10, 20, and 50 times respectively.
Results.
"I'm finally free!"
"Moga-seo Christ! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"I'll live a good life from now on!"
Incredibly, every inmate released after serving their sentences exhibited "sound mental and physical health."
Even with Sim A-ryeon mobilized for thorough checks, no side effects were found.
The inmates had endured isolation in the chambers, feeling only bliss while consuming nothing but rice-opium.
"Undertaker Awakener. This is…"
"Yes."
I nodded to No Do-ha.
"Cultivate it en masse. Right now."
"……."
"From now on, this new plant will no longer bear the sinister name 'rice-opium.' It shall be called 'Dopamine.'"
I am invincible.
The Sword Marquis is a god.
And Dopamine can be mass-produced.