Chapter 169
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 169
Chapter Title: Red Bow, White Arrow
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Honestly, in my previous life, music was nothing more than the raucous rhythms spilling from my earphones or some background track—neither more nor less.
The world was brutally harsh even for a child who’d grown into an adult without so much as a single backer, let alone parents.
In my desperate struggles to scrape by and claim my share of life, I forgot how to seek comfort or even check if I’d been wounded. Before I knew it, I was standing lost and adrift in some unknown place.
The name I myself had forgotten how to call out—that guy—first began to listen to music...
It started in that barren purgatory, where the only pleasures were heart-pounding battles and grueling training that made me feel my death all over again, even though I was already dead.
Nostalgic Ghostly Melody.
A ghostly tune yearning for home.
The peculiar old man, who introduced himself as nothing more than a lingering note that hadn’t faded away, always just sat in his domain thumping away on a massive log.
I learned that this huge log was called a geomungo—or sometimes gayageum—and that with it, I could work all sorts of magic. Until then...
The old man, with his pale, drooping eyebrows, would seat me before him and simply play his notes.
On the first day, unlike the other cranky ghost bastards, I thought this one was at least letting me rest a bit, so I dozed off hard.
By the tenth day, I meditated while listening intently, treating it as background music.
But on the fifty-first day, some emotion surged up inside me, and I burst into heaving sobs.
What was so unjust? What was so dearly missed?
It was a life with nothing to miss, nothing left behind.
What had filled this dead body so full? Tears poured out as I emptied it all.
Watching me silently as he played through all twelve pieces, the ghostly musician finally produced a golden plaque and began teaching me his secret arts.
From that moment on, music became inseparable from me.
Music was like transparent spring water, and melody its reflection in that water.
Through notes, I learned to empty myself; through music, I tended the wounds that appeared in the void.
Even if the whole world deceived me—even if I deceived myself—no performance born from within me could be fooled.
Music created a time that was more honest and true than anything in the world, a time just for me.
That’s why any instrument capable of crafting such moments was like another self to me, a priceless treasure without equal.
Unless it captivated my eyes and pulled my hands, I could never produce that boiling passion in my playing.
That’s why, in my previous life, when the geomungo I always carried finally shattered after reaching the end of its lifespan, I swore off them entirely and never touched one again.
Unless it was an instrument that made my hands and heart race with ecstasy as I played... it could never create that deep immersion for me.
That’s why I was so thrilled to find the obsidian flute in this forest of heroes.
It was a completely different instrument, with a wholly different tone...
But it was the first since burying my geomungo in my past life that seized my hands and eyes like this.
And yet, such a precious find...
Shattered to pieces in the golden hands of that bonehead who rolled in from who-knows-where.
“...Kkhuhk!”
Just recalling it brought back the agony of loss, heat rising unbidden.
As an artist, as a performer who loved music, as someone who’d found even a sliver of salvation in musical arts...
I couldn’t just stand by.
At the very least, I had to rip out his spine, make a flute of it, and let out some steam for my lost child—or this rage would never subside.
“A so-called God of Musical Arts who can’t even show the bare minimum of respect or etiquette toward it. As one who loves musical arts, as one insulted by it, how could I possibly stand by?”
A god neglecting his divine duties.
A god blind to his own station.
He might’ve gotten away with such recklessness under the mere name of “god” until now, but not in front of me.
It reminded me all too well of those corrupt, low-rank martial artists who rampaged like they alone defined justice, drunk on their innate status and power. All the more reason.
“And yet... you’ve lost all sense of fear and ‘again’ stick your stiff neck out before me? O Goddess of the Crescent Moon.”
Even though the intruder barging into this scene of righteous discipline was a beautiful goddess, it only fueled my anger.
It made me resolve to shatter not just her body, but her mind to pieces.
At that thought, my rage-twisted lips curled into a smirk, and the blazing heat in my eyes cooled to icy calm in an instant.
[I’ve delayed my vow even for those you protect, out of respect for divine duties. In that time, what sprouted in your tiny head wasn’t remorse, but arrogance?]
Honestly, I hadn’t had time to deal with Instructor Artemis anyway.
Just yesterday, I’d spent blissful hours with Atalanta, and not even two days before that, I’d been reveling day in and day out with sea nymphs in an undersea dragon palace.
“....!!”
Whatever the truth, Artemis’s shoulders trembled faintly at my whispered telepathy in her ear.
[Shall I show everyone the virgin goddess dancing lewdly?
That display you gave before me that day was truly fantastical.]
“D-don’t...!”
As I casually raised my hand as if to activate a curse, Artemis paled white, quaking in terror.
To onlookers, it looked like a fierce stare-down between us, but I pierced through to the fear and faint longing in those black pupils.
[Or perhaps... you came seeking such disgrace?]
“S-stay away!”
As I took a step forward, Artemis flinched back in alarm.
The goddess of the hunt drew a silver bow and arrow from thin air, aiming at me, and everyone around swallowed hard.
But I merely smiled coldly and took another step.
[How was the time without my call? Your aroused body, sweat trickling down, the flesh’s unquenchable craving no matter how you writhed—how desperate and sweet was it?]
“W-warning! I warned you! Stay back!”
Like the serpent’s deadly venom that had defiled her pure body that day...
My insidious whispers made the goddess’s delicate form defy her will, recklessly replaying that day’s ecstasy.
‘...Huh, was I always this sadistic?’
Truth be told, it was immensely amusing—and quite tantalizing.
I wanted to rip off that arrogant mask, see the goddess writhe at my slightest gesture.
‘But no, I must hold back.’
This was a place surrounded by gods watching. Even if Zeus owed me, pushing too far would make me no better than vermin.
The plan was to humble the clueless intruder, make Artemis retreat in fear and tarnish her dignity and honor.
Then sow discord between Apollo and her, isolate her even on Olympus, and slowly make her rely on me...
Seemed that goal would be easier than expected.
“Step back now, Goddess of the Crescent Moon. This is my final warning.”
“U-ugh...!”
If she didn’t retreat, what would happen?
With her body already under my control, Artemis had only two paths.
Dance lewdly in ecstasy before all eyes at my command...
Or withdraw as warned and watch her brother be torn apart.
‘Fool... didn’t expect you to leap into the trap yourself.’
I held complete control of the situation.
Gods, steeped in individualism and hedonism, had no pretext to intervene when I had every justification.
Even if they did, they wouldn’t unless I openly challenged Olympus.
And rightly so.
Who would dare defend a so-called God of Musical Arts who insulted another artist’s music by smashing their heart-like instrument?
No one but this foolish moon goddess charging in blindly for her blood kin.
‘A feat rivaling the myth of the ancient performer who felled the sun and moon that disturbed the heavens.’
The myth of the ancient performer in the Music Palace who struck down the sun and moon flashed in my mind.
“....”
“....”
The arrow tip, trembling so subtly before me that no one else would notice.
Tracing up its line slowly...
Artemis’s eyes twisted in turmoil—fear that her body would betray her any moment, anticipation of the pleasure at that fear’s end, and horror at herself—filled me with deep satisfaction.
-Twing!
“Eek!?”
Her shaking hand finally slipped the bowstring, and the silver arrow aimed at me flew straight for my heart.
“...Heh!”
Her shocked face suggested it was an accident.
Accident or not, Artemis would pay dearly.
-Swoosh!
The silver arrow hurtled toward me in a blink.
But whether to block or dodge, I had no reason to fear it.
As I pondered her punishment under accelerated thought and swung my hand...
-Clang!
In that instant, someone slipped in and blocked the silver arrow with a shield.
“No one move.”
A gray-haired goddess stood before me with her shield raised, declaring in a stern tone for all to hear.
“Athena will now take control of this situation.”
With that, the goddess lowered her shield.
Zeus’s eldest daughter, rival to Ares, goddess of technique, strategy, tactics, and wisdom, fixed me with a quiet glare.