Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Pure Art
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"You."
The Blue Moon's eyes curved like crescent moons.
"You who wear the mask of a one-eyed man despite having two eyes, disorder on the highway, arch-nemesis of rubber ducks, one acknowledged by greed itself, one who gazes upon me twice and remains unscathed."
All those eyes turned toward me.
"Pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise."
The sky grew tumultuous.
[Run!]
[It's gaze has shifted! Now's your chance!]
[I'll never set foot here again!]
The world warped violently. Like watercolor splashed with water, the entire scene melted away—but the Blue Moon and I were exceptions within it.
"Those repulsive things have fled."
"You know them well, I take it?"
"They're extremists who wander the dimensions, vermin who toy with humans to produce loathsome works. I've intervened countless times, but like lizards, they sever their tails and slither away—false artists, all."
It belatedly dawned on me that the Blue Moon was one of those rare entities that took an interest in humans, pouring affection upon them.
"You've got history with them, then."
Even if that interest drove humans mad, the affection itself was genuine.
"Even a bad connection is a connection. But you who wear the mask of a one-eyed man despite having two eyes, why are you here?"
"They kidnapped me. Filmed a work, too."
As I spoke, I held out the bead toward the Blue Moon. I didn't mention that I'd directed it myself.
'Personal ties would taint an honest evaluation.'
They'd already fled, so there was no official reason for judgment anymore. But privately, I wanted feedback on my first creation.
"I'll take a look."
The Blue Moon's eyes fixed on the bead. After about ten seconds, the air trembled.
"You, you who wear the mask of a one-eyed man despite having two eyes, pitiful child, child toyed with by false artists, child made protagonist of a work utterly meaningless and worthless, child sacrificed to something not even worthy of being called art—truly, so very pitiful!"
"......"
"Among the works of false artists I've seen, this is overwhelmingly the worst trash. This is their domain, so even my eyes can't pierce what happened here. Thus, I can't even fathom the humiliation and rage you endured!"
The Blue Moon began to fade.
"I'll hunt them down and make them pay for wasting my time and soiling my eyes!"
The space around us dissolved, and when it fully collapsed, I returned to reality.
"All done."
I'd escaped a dream where I should have died. Evacuated everyone, averted the world's end.
"This came with me, too."
On the bed I last remembered, I sat up and opened my palm. There gleamed the bead—my creation, born from the dream itself.
"Usage instructions..."
Activate it like powering on, then touch the target's body or make them stare for three seconds or more. The method came instinctively, like breathing. I tested it on myself.
'First, check the time.'
Current time: 10:35 PM.
Activating the bead replayed my film in vivid reality.
'Feels like watching a movie in a massive theater.'
Soon, it ended. I checked the clock.
'10:36 PM.'
My work's total runtime: 26 hours, 12 minutes, 35 seconds. In reality, only one minute had passed.
-Squawk!
"Truly moving."
To badmouth a masterpiece like this? The Blue Moon's brain must be drowned in dopamine, too.
'But does it work on entities?'
The Blue Moon was enormous, and what the others said marked it as extraordinary—maybe it viewed my work directly through the bead.
'Test it on another entity.'
I approached the rubber duck in the corner and activated the bead.
-Squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawk squawwwk!!!
No sooner had a minute passed than the rubber duck went berserk, screeching madly. Even under my watch, it wailed on before abruptly falling silent.
"Overwhelmed with emotion, right?"
No reply.
"Has to be."
Anyway, after spending so long in that dream, sleep evaded me. I planned to pull an all-nighter, tough it out till tomorrow evening, and reset my sleep cycle—when an unexpected guest arrived.
"Phew, finally found you! Wow! Nice upgrade on the digs?"
It was Mr. Shin Young-moon, who'd blown his fortune on illegal gambling and died in a freak accident.
"Come to think of it, I never gave you this address. How'd you find it?"
I'd asked him for one favor: notify me if he ever spotted an entity. But I'd moved without a word, so no new address.
"I checked everywhere. Started with your old one-room and went door-to-door nearby."
"Wasn't that a hassle?"
"Time's the one thing I've got plenty of."
Fair point. Ghosts don't sleep or tire—perfect for grunt work.
"Your visit means you found what I asked about?"
"Yeah, pure fluke. Never thought something like that existed."
"What happened?"
"Well..."
After our home experiment ended, Mr. Shin had wandered the city aimlessly.
"Then it hit me—unjust as hell. Was my mahjong really that bad? So I headed to the library for books. Mahjong manuals and such. Computers would be ideal, but ghosts can't use 'em, right?"
"Books are the same issue, no?"
"With books, if someone else reads what I want, I just peek over their shoulder. Nothing else to do, so I stuck around."
Mr. Shin became the library's resident ghost.
"Plus, reading along with folks made time fly, sharpened my mind too. But recently, I saw something weird."
While roaming the stacks, he'd witnessed a woman reading a book—then vanishing on the spot.
"She was standing fine, reading away, then poof—gone. Book even dropped to the floor."
"Was the cover black by any chance?"
"Yeah! How'd you know?"
"The title?"
"Uh, didn't catch it—freaked out and bolted. Been hunting for you since."
"You're a ghost. What scares you?"
"Ghosts get exorcised by the living sometimes. Why not a book that eats ghosts?"
"Wouldn't put it past 'em."
I had a pretty good idea what entity it was.
"I'll check it out soon."
"Ahem, so I did good, right?"
"Yes, very good."
"Then... one little reward?"
I stared right at Mr. Shin's face.
'Bold guy.'
Most folks beaten half to death would harbor massive grudge—anger, fear, changed behavior. Not him.
"Ghost perks, or just how he is?"
"Pardon? What?"
"Nothing. So, what reward?"
"I wanna read mahjong books. Buy some and read 'em for me? Library's dry on readers lately—getting stale."
"Won't YouTube lectures be better? Tons of pros upload there."
"Oh! Never thought of that! Please!"
But first, a curiosity.
'Can I show my work to ghosts, too?'
I stepped close to Mr. Shin.
"Wanna see this?"
"What's that? A bead?"
I activated it. Mr. Shin stared—and collapsed.
"Blugh! Gah! Grrblflargle!"
Even as a ghost, he convulsed wildly, then passed out.
"Ugh... uuuugh..."
"With us?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"Remember why you blacked out?"
"N-No... just felt like some godawful boring movie got force-fed into my brain, bit my tongue wanting to die, but... nothing specific."
Mr. Shin was dopamine-drenched, too. Made sense for a gambling addict.
"Watch some mahjong lectures. Starting now."
"Ah! Thanks!"
After bingeing mahjong lectures at my place, Mr. Shin bid farewell.
"Off to the parlor for real games. Heh heh! Eyes are opening now!"
Once he left, I prepped something new.
"Just stare at this bead? That's it? For 150,000 won a day!?"
"Yep. Nothing weird—don't worry."
To test my work further, I hired day laborers and showed them the bead.
"Hng? Hng? Hnnng? Blugh!"
Every participant stared three seconds or more—then screamed weirdly and fainted.
"Ugh, felt like peering into a forbidden abyss."
"Like watching the most disgustingly boring movie ever—wanted to gouge my eyes out."
"Like eating trash with my eyeballs. This normal?"
No one remembered what they'd seen. But some subconscious residue lingered.
"I get it now."
Modern brains, soaked in dopamine, can't handle pure art.
"That's why they faint—only the unconscious retains it."
Some woke startled at me.
"You're... dressed? Thought you were naked for some reason."
"Not gonna strip and dance suddenly? No clue why, but felt like you might."
Tragic, really.
"In a dopamine-saturated world, is there no room for pure art?"
I poured this sentiment into a film forum post.
[Human Dopamine Circuits and Primal Stimuli: The State of Modern Man, and the Lost Path of Pure Art]
[Author: IAmTheDebater]
Too many insights—hit character limits, split into threads. On the 15th...
[ID Blocked by Commercial Film Manager.]
[Duration: 7 Days / Reason: Spamming & Nonsense]
"Not permanent."
Not bad.
I knew the entity from Mr. Shin's description the instant he spoke. Time to retrieve it—but I'd changed my mind lately.
"Do I really need to?"
Browsing communities, reading posts, the thought struck. After some deliberation, I decided to check it myself—but deprioritized, so no rush.
"Test this first."
To survive entities, I'd sought five things.
Knowledge, power, means, status, wealth.
Had knowledge, power, means, wealth. Only status left—and I'd acquired it via the trader last time.
"Legacy of the Great Author."
A safe-grade entity: infinite ink.
But its true power was this.
"Any text written with it becomes undeniable truth to the target."
The perfect entity for claiming any status in the world was now mine.