Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Recognition
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Ian sat on a nearby rock, catching his breath as he watched his companions deal with the villagers.
‘This headache is brutal….’
Even for Ian, unleashing magic on that scale couldn’t leave him unscathed. And since it was a spell cast purely through incantation without a magic circle, the backlash was considerable. Sure, it was just a headache, but this one was massive.
A pain like his head was being split in two. He was pretending to be fine, but in truth, he wanted to collapse to the floor and crawl around right now. If he lay down and closed his eyes like this, he might just pass out on the spot.
This was just from partially summoning the Outer Sea’s environment. On the cruise ship, the ocean had been nearby, so drawing up the black seawater hadn’t been too taxing. But here, in this landlocked mountain valley with not a drop of seawater in sight, the recoil was inevitable.
‘Pulling out an Outer Sea creature would’ve been cheaper in the end.’
Ian let out a long breath and hung his head. Through the spreading black seawater, he caught glimpses of the villagers’ red blood and translucent brain fluid. He moved only his eyes, staring intently at the scene of his companions handling the villagers.
Crunch!
Lee Min-su split a villager’s head with his axe. Kim I-seo blasted their bodies apart with a shotgun, while Kim Yul caved in faces using a hammer formed from water pressure. Kim Mi-ryeo divided the villagers’ bodies into equal parts with her Japanese sword.
A gruesome sight. Yet even with their heads smashed and bodies severed, the villagers kept writhing without dying. It seemed neither the head nor the heart had much to do with their immortality.
So where was the root of their immortality?
“…….”
Ian swept back his wet bangs and scanned the surroundings.
That was when a small hanok house entered his view.
A hanok far too tiny for anyone to live in comfortably. It lacked so much to even qualify as a residence. No courtyard, and the tiles had mostly fallen off, lying shattered on the ground.
But the interior of the hanok, visible at a glance, was remarkably intact.
No, intact didn’t even begin to cover it. Compared to the other houses, it was meticulously maintained—no speck of dust, the wooden floor gleaming with polish. Aside from the collapsed tiles, it was in as good a condition as any hanok village home.
That made it stand out. It was a structure that didn’t fit this village at all.
“Ugh…….”
Ian pressed a hand to his throbbing head and slowly stood. Then he began walking toward the hanok.
“Planning to scout it out?”
Kim I-seo immediately followed. Ian pushed her back and held out a hand toward Lee Min-su, miming a gesture of pinching a cigarette between his fingers. Lee Min-su pulled one from his pocket and handed it over.
“This hanok looks suspicious. I’ll check it out alone.”
“Mind if I come along?”
“We’ve handled the villagers, but their immortality hasn’t stopped. Can’t risk bringing someone with weak mental barriers when we don’t know what else might be lurking.”
Ian slipped the cigarette between his lips and lit it.
Inhaling the acrid smoke eased the headache somewhat. He exhaled into the air and flicked off the ash.
“So I’m going alone.”
“……I’ve got nothing to say to that. Still, just in case—give a signal if anything happens. I’ll come running.”
Kim I-seo spat out the blood pooling in her mouth.
Her tongue was half shredded. The fact that she’d severed it herself to cope showed impressive mental fortitude, but it wasn’t enough. Just hearing the villagers’ mutterings had nearly broken her mind. No way she could face whatever was in that hanok directly and stay sane.
Nothing was confirmed inside yet, but better safe than sorry. If there was nothing, that was good too.
Ian put the cigarette back in his mouth and staggered toward the hanok. The splitting headache, exhaustion, and clinging wet clothes weighed him down, but he didn’t want to collapse pathetically. Forcing his heavy legs to move, he reached the entrance.
The front gate stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open without hesitation and stepped inside.
Immediately, the piercing scent of incense hit his nose. A faint metallic tang of blood wove through it, along with a thicker, revolting stench. If anything, it resembled the smell of a wild dog unwashed for days.
The source was a small Buddha statue in the corner of the hanok.
The statue was coated in red blood like paint. Its eyes appeared to be human ones crudely jammed in—the edges crushed, leaking transparent vitreous humor. The irises were different colors, so at least they hadn’t come from the same person.
‘A Buddha.’
Ian recognized its identity the moment he saw it.
The PPT he’d seen before entering the mountains. The overall sketch of the statue there matched the one before him closely.
The only difference was that one of its arms was covered in shaggy fur like a monkey’s.
“…….”
It was so blatant he couldn’t pretend not to notice. Ian sighed deeply, squatted in front of the statue, and exhaled smoke toward it.
“Do you have a sense of self?”
The question was for both the Monkey’s Paw and the statue.
No answer came. But he clearly saw sweat beading on the Monkey’s Paw. That meant it had enough intelligence to feel tension or fear.
The statue, however?
[……. ……. ……!]
It was muttering something, but nothing intelligible.
Probably spouting Sakyamuni quotes, just like the villagers.
According to the Management Bureau agent who’d gone mad at the mere sight of it, the statue’s mental assault was far worse than the villagers’. The agent must have encountered villagers too, so piercing through that and still suiciding here proved both the Buddha’s strength and the agent’s own mental prowess.
Ian silently prayed for the agent’s soul and tapped the statue’s smooth head with his pistol.
Attacks that worked on a Management Bureau agent wouldn’t faze Ian. Physical assaults might be another story, but Mysteries that burrowed into the mind were his perfect counter.
For him, it was welcome news. He wouldn’t have to worry about mental attacks or hypnosis going forward. Hell, he could even fake vulnerability to strike first.
He hadn’t met many psychics yet, but some surely manipulated minds. Fine if they were allies, but enemies? No mercy needed. Kill when the moment was right.
He hadn’t killed anyone yet, but he wouldn’t hesitate if necessary. He’d steeled himself long ago.
“Whew…….”
Ian stubbed out the nearly finished cigarette on the statue’s forehead and tossed it carelessly to the floor. He didn’t care if it caught fire.
Screech.
He unslung his bag and drew a long kitchen knife.
Primate Slayer Knife.
The Monkey’s Paw was a primate’s hand, after all. This should kill it in one stroke. If not, it’d hurt like hell—no big loss.
‘The Monkey’s Paw clinging to the Buddha’s hand suggests the wish granted it alongside the Laughing Buddha.’
A reasonable suspicion. Ian dragged the knife’s blade lightly across the Buddha’s surface, grimacing.
In stories featuring Monkey’s Paws, reality-warping twists were common. Like a college student wishing for love, only for everyone at school to switch genders. Or wishing for popularity and getting it only from the same sex.
This incident was probably similar.
A little girl’s wish for happiness every day. The Monkey’s Paw granted it through this absurdity called the Laughing Buddha.
Thus, a grotesque village of immortals was born—eternally living, dismantling visitors into masks, donning them for laughter and joy.
Ian had no idea what this place was originally like.
Maybe a cult, or a reclusive hamlet. Or they’d lived elsewhere and the wish relocated them here.
Whatever. The Mystery’s arrival made it irrelevant now—just backstory MacGuffin. No point speculating when he couldn’t verify. Honestly, he didn’t care.
What mattered was handling the Mystery. Ian first placed a hand on the Buddha’s head and swapped grimoires. The black one shifted instantly to the Hand of Recreation.
Not for use around Management Bureau agents, but no eyes now. Ian opened it without hesitation and chanted.
“Be reborn.”
Crack!
The statue compressed into a disc, then rolled into a rod and stowed in his bag.
Statue handled. Only the Monkey’s Paw left. Ian closed the grimoire, reversed his grip on the knife, and aimed at the furry hand.
“……Huh?”
Then, a strange symbol caught his eye.
A small mark etched into the Monkey’s Paw’s palm. A black geometric pattern, tattoo-like, glowing faintly. Instinctively, Ian knew what it was.
“A magic circle?”
The moment he said it, a long needle shot from the pattern, aiming for his forehead. Ian jerked his head aside, dodging, and plunged the knife into the symbol.
Squelch!
The sensation of piercing flesh. The Monkey’s Paw convulsed, then went limp. The needle embedded in the ceiling trembled and faded.
“…….”
Ian stared coldly at the blood-soaked pattern.
*
“Found you.”
Eddie, who had been sitting with eyes closed, slowly raised his eyelids and muttered.
Too bad the ambush failed, but he’d memorized the face—no big deal.
“The young man who asked for directions back then.”
Not a familiar face, but not a total stranger. He’d let it slide before, but now he had reason to track him down. Hell, even reward him.
“…….”
Hard to believe he owned an Outer God’s grimoire. Not certain yet.
But carrying a grimoire. Casually slaying a strong Mystery, one-shotting his own handmade Monkey’s Paw. Plenty of circumstantial evidence.
‘Even if it’s not an Outer God’s grimoire, doesn’t matter. He’s high-level for sure—killing him and taking it helps.’
With intel secured, no need to linger in this country. Perfect timing—he’d be drained from chained spells.
Eddie stood immediately and sketched Ian’s face on paper.
He held the perfect likeness to a mirror and chanted.
“Find him. Your grudge lies here.”
Whirr.
The magic circle inside the mirror glowed, activating the spell. Eddie overlaid it on a Korean peninsula map to pinpoint Ian.
‘Gyeongsang Province. But not residential. We met near the hotel, so his home’s probably in Gyeonggi.’
Confirmed. He fixed the mirror to the map and prepped combat Mysteries.
If no movement in three hours, go kill him. If moving, wait till he stops and ambush. No blood or hair for remote strikes—unfortunate.
No matter. Mages took a week to recover from overload. Finish within that.
“Finally, I’ll have a grimoire of my own.”
Eddie chuckled softly and lit his cigarette.
The acrid smoke flowed down his throat and out his mouth.
That gray, beautiful fog felt like a blessing upon him.