Transcendence (3)
Life is always a continuous series of repetitions. Having lived nearly ten thousand years, I feel a sense of déjà vu in almost everything. The blessing called forgetfulness keeps me from going mad, but repeated or intensely etched memories sometimes slip out from under that blessing's shadow. Even after coming to Earth, similar things had happened a few times. Just because the dimension was different didn't mean the events were all that different. The last lump incident was the same—the things that occurred weren't much different. The only change was in me.
"Tut. I've done this quite a lot."
In fact, reverse-tracing someone's traces and research materials like today wasn't my first time. If anything, it was my specialty. Studying spatial mana and magic, collecting data—it was practically the same as reverse-tracing. The reason was simple. Spatial mages had endured long-term oppression from the four-element school magic association, and their records were mostly hidden away or written in mysterious ciphers. Honestly, it was annoying from my perspective, but they had no choice. Unless you were a once-in-a-century genius like me, the side with superior numbers held the advantage, and they always lived under oppression due to their numerical inferiority. If they openly published books or research materials on spatial magic? Well. Ancient mages were barbaric, so spells would probably rain down from all directions immediately. Humans killed off those with opposing ideologies and burned their materials plenty of times, but elves took it even further. Guys who lived and died by magic—would they tolerate a different kind of magic, a dangerous magic? Thanks to that, my studies essentially began with reverse-tracing the cipher-like materials left by previous generations of spatial mages. I repeated countless reverse-tracings and shoddy decodings, but one in particular stuck in my memory.
It was a record left by a human spatial mage named Charlotte Eritha. At the time, it hit me like a fresh shock. She believed spatial mana could advance living beings by one step, and if wielded properly, humanity could surpass its limits. To cut to the chase, her theory was wrong. More precisely, it made sense under the theories of her era, but by the time I found it, it couldn't be applied to reality—and shouldn't be. Spatial mana is a power from the gods' domain. And the gods' will—at least if my thinking was right—didn't take kindly to breaking the limits of a species. So they watched that foolish, arrogant attempt... and in one moment, delivered punishment.
"……So what happened?"
Chen Zuiyuan, who'd been listening to my story, asked. The gentle melody of classical music from the cafe flowed into my ears. With concentration earplugs in, I dipped my head slightly. I could see faint ripples in my coffee. Keeping my gaze fixed on it, I continued.
"She died."
Charlotte died buried underground with her research materials. She must have realized in her final years that her own work was wrong. But scholars sometimes make irrational, idiotic decisions. Even knowing their theory is flawed and practically impossible, they push forward. Chasing that razor-thin, threadbare possibility. They don't see it as wrong. Proving their theory is ultimately about proving themselves. In the end, she became a monster. A punishment worse than turning into the flesh lump that people here call a Melting Flash. As far as my knowledge went, Charlotte wasn't the first scholar to realize the taboo, but she was the first to break it. Most never dreamed of injecting spatial mana directly into their bodies for evolution and species transcendence. Maybe it stemmed from her being human while we were elves. Elves had a superior environment to humans, but at least in magic, humans started from a deficient position. Short lifespans, not even proper mana at birth—an unfortunate lot. But precisely because of that... they crave evolution and transcendence. Even if it puts their lives at risk.
"…Interesting."
Chen Zuiyuan rested his chin and spoke after hearing my tale. It was a story that surfaced after he'd gone through all the materials he'd uncovered. Charlotte's account had shocked me back then. After all, I—a genius born among elves with everything handed to me—could never understand her. The human species ultimately refused to accept or resign itself to their limits. Ten thousand years ago, and now. Charlotte's will had carried over even to Earth's humans.
"It's frustrating. I've got suspicions, but no hard evidence."
Chen Zuiyuan thumped his chest in frustration. What he'd found was a community site used by high-ranking officials, including Han Myung-hun, who'd died in the incident. It required navigating club memberships and dedicated passwords, making access extremely tough—but he'd somehow cracked it. When I asked how, he grinned and replied, 'Professor, did you forget? I do research in China.' He was a reverse-tracing master rivaling me. In the niche of cyber warfare, he even surpassed me. Honestly, I'd always prided myself on my internet savvy, but today I had to set that pride aside. Anyway, he'd pulled out key features from the site and spotted correlations among words that seemed like ciphers.
"Honestly, just glancing at it, you wouldn't have a clue what was what. If not for those keywords from the notebook you mentioned."
Among the internet records he'd dug up was Han Myung-hun's blog too. It looked like he'd posted there up until just before the ritual, then stopped—suggesting he only wrote when he was still sane.
"Most of it was philosophy-related."
He shared books he'd read and exchanged thoughts with others. Han Myung-hun posted a lot of philosophy books, mostly about humanity and humans. He seemed the same breed as Charlotte. Never satisfied with his station, always yearning to climb higher. Trying to punch through the ceiling imposed on him. Without realizing only ruin lay beyond. Humans hadn't changed much over thousands of years. Only their methods, approaches, and knowledge differed.
"You know the side effects when humans take in spatial mana beyond a baseline threshold."
Han Myung-hun's channel videos, blog, and their private community—all pointed to one thing. Species transcendence. Evolution into a mighty mage surpassing even elves.
"Did it succeed? For Deputy Director Han Myung-hun."
Chen Zuiyuan muttered to himself. Honestly, my take was negative.
"Don't know."
But that remained to be seen. We still lacked concrete proof. And today, we were off to get it.
Ding-a-lang— The final member of our journey had just stepped into the cafe.
"Nice to see you again."
It was the axe hunter from Incheon. First time heading outside Gyeonggi or Seoul for me. My routine didn't involve much travel anyway—maybe just to the Elf Management Bureau in Seoul. Truth be told, I was clueless about Korean geography. I barely even knew our destination today.
Guiding to Dangjin Bus Terminal. Toll: approximately 3,500 won.
Dangjin in Chungcheongnam-do. I didn't know the details, but I'd heard from the hunter it was a port city with a sea view.
"Too urgent last time for proper greetings. Nice to meet you again. Hunter Huh Song-hyeok."
He tapped the navigation and gave his name. On the way to the car, I'd heard the situation: Baek Seol-yeon had hired him to join us.
As director now, she must be swamped. Makes sense—practically the entire upper echelon had been wiped out, so the workload was insane.
Vroom— Huh Song-hyeok turned the ignition, prepping to roll out. The car's condition wasn't great even as a polite exaggeration, but way better than the bus.
"We're off."
With that, he followed the navigation's lead. About an hour's drive ahead.
Our reason for heading to Dangjin was simple.
"There's an orphanage in Dangjin sponsored—and directly operated—by Deputy Director Han Myung-hun."
For some reason, three years before the mass suicide incident, Han Myung-hun had started running an orphanage. Not built from scratch; he'd taken over operations of an existing one. It was pretty well-known—mages occasionally appeared on the news claiming they were alumni.
"What's going on there?"
Chen Zuiyuan's voice trembled with unease. I stayed silent. We still didn't know the truth. But somehow... it felt like that orphanage would tell us.