Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: 109. What is Art?
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"Everyone, walk a bit faster."
"Hey, that's... not as easy as it sounds!"
Every time her foot sank into the ground, Song Arin grimaced.
"That's because we don't know when it'll catch up..."
"Can't we just fight and win?"
"We can do it once."
"Once is still fine."
At Song Arin's words, I hurriedly scanned the area ahead.
[Critical: 1]
With one Critical left, maybe we could do something.
But,
"Still, personally, I'd like to hold onto it a little longer."
It came instinctively.
This didn't feel like something to waste on a mere guide.
"...Those things probably won't be affected by mental attacks, right?"
"Who knows. What about the guy just now?"
"More than human, you mean."
Song Arin muttered with a furrowed brow.
"There are already a lot of people here."
"...People, you say?"
"Inside these walls, under the floor, above the ceiling—some consciousnesses are clumped together, wriggling as one."
"You mean people are alive?"
"Can't really call it alive. Even if their bodies are corrupted and their minds broken, if a consciousness exists, I can sense it roughly."
Song Arin closed her eyes, lost in thought, then looked at me.
"Shall we... connect?"
Connect?
"...I don't think that's a good idea."
"Or maybe... try it on Aestheticism."
Song Arin spouted something even more absurd than before.
"Is that even possible?"
"When you meet it, connect me to you."
That really seemed dangerous.
"I'm against that. For now... let's try connecting when it's more dangerous."
Method was a golden opportunity to think beyond human perspectives. Conversely, the person performing Method would, even briefly, hold non-human thoughts.
Since we couldn't predict the side effects if Song Arin was exposed for too long, caution was best.
"...You're worried about me?"
"Of course I am."
At my words, Song Arin averted her eyes and covered her mouth, coughing awkwardly a few times.
"W-What... I appreciate the worry, but... I can handle myself."
"You can't proceed on your own anyway. Take better care of yourself."
"Ahem, uh, got it."
Yoo Daon, Jang Chaeyeon, Song Arin—they all seemed to lack any real self-preservation instinct.
Was that a requirement for joining the Management Bureau?
I kept glancing back to check for pursuers.
The sinking ground had firmed up enough to walk on,
"Ugh..."
But Yoo Daon, walking ahead, pinched her nose and scowled.
"What the hell is this smell..."
"Yeah."
I had to mutter the same, pinching my nose alongside her.
It was an indescribable, bizarre stench. Fishy yet foul, utterly horrific.
As Yoo Daon, Song Arin, and I pinched our noses and looked around, one person alone scanned the surroundings with a serious expression, saying nothing.
"I know this smell."
"Chaeyeon?"
Jang Chaeyeon muttered and assumed a stance.
"Everyone, get ready—"
-Clack, clack.
The sound of someone walking in sharp heels. And then—
"What is art?"
A low woman's voice echoed.
A stabbing pain shot through my temples.
"Urk...!"
I clutched my temple and hurriedly looked at Song Arin, who instantly caught on and turned to Yoo Daon.
"Huh? My body's moving on its own...!"
Yoo Daon pulled an awl from her pocket with a baffled expression and stabbed her own hand.
-Squelch!
"Urgh...!"
Blood sprayed as she groaned in pain, but her eyes stayed wide open, fixed ahead.
"Ahhh...!"
Song Arin clenched her fist and slammed it into the wound Jang Chaeyeon had prepared, letting out a scream of agony.
Jang Chaeyeon—
"..."
She just stared ahead silently.
-Drip.
Blood overflowed from her mouth, and with a spit, she sprayed it onto the ground.
"As expected of the divinities the Management Bureau's been eyeing lately."
A laughing voice came from the distance as a figure emerged.
The white mannequin was drenched in blood, looking almost red, with only a human face perched atop its inorganic body.
The face I'd seen from the plane.
"...Aestheticism."
"I don't like that name much."
Every time she spoke, the headache intensified.
"And waking the mind with pain is a good method, but."
-Thud,
"True beauty is becoming art itself, which means offering one's arms to art—"
Song Arin beside me dropped to her knees, muttering.
Next to her, Yoo Daon was gleefully stabbing her own hand with the awl.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful."
Blood splattered everywhere.
"What if pain itself becomes art?"
Aestheticism muttered delightedly.
-Tap,
Someone tapped my shoulder with a finger.
Jang Chaeyeon was looking at me.
She murmured,
"Leave it to me."
-Bam!
She swung her arm, and with immense force, her body bent in half, collapsing unconscious to the ground.
"Smart one too."
The mannequin muttered appreciatively, meeting my eyes.
"Impressive, really. Not many humans can converse with me sanely. Even being generous, you'd need a Containment Team leader or branch chief."
"..."
"What are you, exactly?"
Gritting my teeth against the shattering headache, I scanned the surroundings.
Yoo Daon's blood had already turned the ground around her red, and Song Arin clutched her broken arm, groaning in pain.
"...If you're curious, stop this nonsense first and talk to me."
"Bold kid, trying to negotiate with me?"
First, I had to defuse this situation.
The manual said as much.
If I could discuss art and move it, we might get out.
We hadn't found the mask yet.
No running either. So, I had to try this.
Aestheticism met my eyes, and the mannequin's shoulders shrugged.
"Fine, whatever. You intrigue me especially."
She crooked a finger at me without breaking eye contact.
"Art is becoming a single statue; I must stand still like a statue."
"..."
The two froze like statues.
"Especially those eyes of yours."
"...I've heard my eyes are special plenty of times."
"Ah, not that trivial stuff."
She waved the mannequin's hand as she replied.
"Normal humans, in a spot like this, close their eyes, go mad, or beg for their lives."
"..."
"But."
The mannequin's finger touched my eye.
"Argh...!"
Like someone sawing open your skull.
The intense headache left me unable to breathe.
It met my eyes.
Freckled eyes curved into crescents.
"That look in your eyes. Knowing full well your puny strength can't even save your life, yet desperately devising ways to find the right answer without losing hope. I like that."
"Urgh... Ah...!"
"And someday, realizing that struggle is futile—that's art too. Finding the answer to the end and becoming better—that's art as well."
I prefer the former, it muttered, finally looking away.
Its finger lifted, and only then did the headache ease enough for me to speak.
"Huff... Huff..."
"Now, shall we talk about art?"
"..."
"My art."
She reached toward the ground.
The man who'd screamed at us earlier rose from the floor.
"Is humanity."
"...What?"
"Without you, I'm nothing. It's because of you that my art continues."
-Boom!
The man swelled like a balloon and burst.
No blood sprayed.
"So, to me, art is you."
-Shatter!
The manual unfolded, and before I could react, Aestheticism swiped her hand, sending it clattering harmlessly to the ground.
"Shh. You talk too much."
Aestheticism picked up the manual, muttered, and politely handed it to me.
"..."
I took the manual from her and looked at the translucent window above my head.
[Name: Aestheticism]
[Age: -]
[Specialty: Art]
[Talent: Art]
[Background: Fun to see this, huh?]
[Weakness: Why not just chat?]
"What?"
As I stared in shock at the text overhead, it spoke again.
"Come on, tell me your take on art."
"..."
Art.
Honestly, I'd never thought deeply about art. The music I listened to was just popular stuff, and paintings? Only famous ones everyone knew.
I slowly opened my mouth.
"My idea of art is..."
"Yes? Art is?"
"Honestly, I don't know much about art."
"Ah, that happens. Especially kids these days probably know even less."
"But I think I can give you the art you want."
"Oh? Really?"
The way to awaken minds.
[Method: 1->0]
Purple threads sprouted from Song Arin's head, statue-still.
I connected them to Jang Chaeyeon.
Song Arin's body twitched, life returning to her eyes.
"Song Arin! Wake them up in order—Chaeyeon, then Daon!"
I kicked the mannequin in front of me and drew my gun.
[Critical: 1->0]
The world slowed, the mannequin's solar plexus glowing.
-Bang!
I pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The bullet flew straight into its solar plexus,
-Ting!
And bounced off like nothing happened.
"Now that's a neat trick."
As it muttered, Song Arin, sweating coldly in pain, looked at Jang Chaeyeon.
Jang Chaeyeon's hand twitched, then reached out.
A world of graph paper unfolded before us.
[Coordinate Rip: 3->2]
[Coordinate Rip: 2->1]
[Coordinate Rip: 1->0]
Three times in a row, immense force tore the space around it.
"Oh my, oh my, oh my."
It laughed delightedly as the mannequin shattered.
The pieces scattered, reforming into massive flesh clumps that poured down,
[Chronos's Shield: 10 seconds]
An invisible barrier blocked the falling flesh.
"You all are pretty fun, huh?"
"Everyone, run!"
I yelled urgently, and the three dashed past Aestheticism.
"Ahaha! Fun kids!"
It laughed like a child, and we could only run.
Hoping its interest and curiosity would be our escape.