Clearing the Game at the End of the World Chapter 166

Chapter. 10 Lead and silver coins (18)

****

Taang!

Taaaang-!

Two warning shots heard from afar. It was Vex. To be honest, I was worried that the guy, whose shooting skills were not very reliable compared to close combat, would be able to shoot properly, but it seems like he was aware of that and just fired into the air.

Although the bullet flew in the wrong direction, the effect was certain.

Slam!

Chiiing-

Ian immediately woke up and lifted the shotgun from his lying position on the sofa.

Ezel jumps out of bed in an instant and holds a sharp knife to the intruder’s neck.

“That is a very impressive welcome. “Did I wake you up?”

“Ah, of course. My wife appeared in my dream. I woke up just as I was about to put pumpkin pie in my mouth. “Thank you so much.”

“It was nothing.”

White suit and pure white gloves. Likewise the white mask and hat. The man who had previously identified himself as W sounded extremely happy despite the fact that a fatal blade was hanging right in front of his carotid artery.

“I really wanted to talk to you guys at least once. “It happened to be close to where I worked, and everyone seemed to have made an appointment to visit here one after another and talk to each other, so I stopped by.”

The professor glanced towards the door. The door was tightly closed and the lock on the door was also there. There was also an alarm trap that was installed roughly with metal scraps sprinkled on it to prevent any intruders. There was no trace of anything being touched.

A realm where imagination is possible. It wasn’t so fast that it couldn’t be seen.

‘Damn….’

Friend or enemy? What and how should we respond?

During the short confrontation, we tried to figure out all the possible cases, but all we got back was the empty conclusion of ‘unknown’.

A strange phenomenon in the wasteland. It is no exaggeration to say that his logic was extremely weak against the Artists’ Union, which is no doubt at its peak.

“You said you came because it was nearby… Is this really true? “In the first place, did they have any space restrictions?”

The professor somehow managed to continue the conversation while feeling cold sweat running down the back of his neck. He said he came to talk, so first we should see if we can find out anything.

At my doubt-filled question, a small cough came out of his mouth. It was only when I saw his body shaking slightly that I realized it was laughter.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my. You’re telling an interesting story. This is not Gedreutz’s world, this is reality. “I am not a wizard.”

“Then what about here?”

“I walked in.”

“What is the ability to arrive anytime, anywhere, in an instant, just by making an appointment?”

“I just value the time commitment.”

“Why do you collect useless paintings and sculptures?”

“hobby.”

“Why did you come here?”

“As I said before, to a certain extent-”

“Just stop telling me you came here to talk. I’ll drill another hole in your head. Talking without even thinking about answering properly? “Let’s see where the jokes and jokes are, even if half of the brain is gone.”

The muzzle of the gun touched his mask, and the trigger, lukewarm from body temperature, tickled his fingertips.

shoot If you say one more word of nonsense, I will shoot you. I won’t kill you because I have something to find out. At this angle, the left tooth and cheek would be blown off and the face would end up looking like a rag.

A moment of silence. and,

match. match. match. match.

Laughter and trembling like a cough. Applause filled with admiration. As he bowed and clapped loudly, Ezel’s dagger grazed his neck and caused blood to flow, but his admiration did not stop. Although his expression could not be seen behind the mask, his every action showed that he was truly happy.

“bravo. bravo. It’s a good thing I came to see you, after all. I can’t believe I’m still alive like this. It’s truly worth it. The collector’s judgment was right this time. As always. “When I first saw you, I didn’t think you had much value.”

“You’re just talking unintelligible things. Do you not know what conversation means? “I will tell you step by step here, so shall we talk about it one by one from the beginning again?”

“Cool hook, cool hook! Ah, this is exactly what I am talking about. “Even though flowering has begun, it still maintains such a vibrant self.”

Collector. joy. Ego. flowering.

Words of unknown meaning were dancing dizzyingly in my head.

“…I owe you a debt, and I think we’ll be together someday, so it’s okay if I tell you a few things. How would you stand and listen with your friends in an uncomfortable position like you do now? Or would you rather start the ‘conversation’ you’ve been longing for over a cup of warm tea?”

….gulp.

While I was hesitating, I heard Ezel, who was closest to W, swallowing his saliva. You must have felt a strange sense of intimidation as he adjusted his slightly bloodstained white suit and adjusted his tie. like me.

In an instant, I shared a look with my companions. Ian strokes the trigger and aims the gun alternately at the heart and knee joint. Ezel slowly puts his sword back.

‘It’s 1 to 1.’

Ian chose to attack, and Ezel chose to talk. I don’t know what Bex is doing outside, but it seems impossible to participate in the vote now, so it’s up to me.

The concerns were long and the answers were short.

“…Ezel.”

flinch!

“If you have any leftover tea, please bring it.”

A signal that you choose to have a conversation.

Slam!

With Ian’s dissatisfied groan, the muzzle of the gun rose, and Ezel, with a life-like expression, ran toward the kitchen at lightning speed.

“Do you have any Darjeeling?”

“There is nothing but fake mushroom tea.”

When he talked about the mold-infused water that people in the wasteland often drink, his body began to tremble again.

“ha ha ha. I think we can put a value on your eloquence. “It’s memorable.”

“value? how much?”

“It’s not about the superficial value of money. Um, right. “We can start from here.”

Sweet.

With perfect timing, Ezel placed two cups of tea on the table. Contrary to what I expected, both teas for guests were fine.

As if he liked the warmth, his gloved hand wandered around the teacup and then returned to the desk.

“We create all kinds of art. music. Reasons for collecting rare items from older generations. It’s not just a hobby. No matter how precious alloys or gold nuggets we pile up, we do not feel much value in them. “The value we collect is a little different.”

W opens his mouth in a very excited voice, as if he is truly happy to bring up this story.

Unidentified man. W began the story about one of the most secretive groups in the wasteland in a light tone, as if it was nothing.

****

“Adapter. Ah, the type 3 variant among us. Which one is more comfortable for you? Type 3 variant? Adapter?”

“It doesn’t matter, so just keep going.”

“Then you are an adaptor. In any case, cases where adaptors occur are extremely rare. In some cases, ‘a will strong enough to transcend death led to their second life.’ Well, there was this kind of cartoonish story floating around, and if that were the case, we would have seen a lot more adaptors than we do now. I have seen countless people in the wasteland burning their will to live in the face of death. Some of them showed faint promise, but they failed to take the last step and ended up as ordinary Type 2 mutants. “It’s heartbreaking.”

W paused for a moment and brought his hand to the teacup once again. This time, instead of lifting the teacup, he just gently swept its surface.

“We really studied ourselves passionately. What is type 3 variant? Why do some people become giant monsters and others remain in a human-like form? Are we monsters or humans?”

His voice became stronger in the last question.

“I would like to ask your opinion on the conversation we are having. I am an adaptor, what you call a Type 3 variant. He died during the Great War, was reborn and lived for 6 years, and although faint, I have memories of my past ‘original form’, and I am sitting before you with my own thoughts, will, and purpose. Am I human? Or is it a monster born from the whim of a virus?”

“….”

“Good answer. “Please remember that silence well.”

He seemed to like my lack of response and stopped talking for a moment and quietly joined in the silence. He even seemed to be picking what to say.

“…The story leaked. Let’s come back to the story about value. Through our newborn comrades who succeeded in creating and protecting artists’ unions, we learned that adaptors cross memories like stepping stones at the time of their occurrence. From the moment of death to a 60th birthday party. From the sour taste of the first lemon I ate at the age of five to a car accident at the age of 45. From my first love at age 12, to the memories of being 20 years old and wearing a graduation cap. It’s just going through memories that come to mind randomly, without any rules or forms. That is, the most broken and broken moment in one’s life. Just as Mad Maynie returns to the memories of those who raped her at the college freshman welcome party, the mutant virus races toward an unforgettable conclusion.”

W was resting his chin on one hand and pointing at me with the finger of his other hand. For some reason, the gesture of silently pointing at me as if sharing a secret reminded me of my mother and father, and I became very uncomfortable.

“What were you…? Looking at that, does it look like a mafia?”

“Me? Mafia? Ha ha ha ha ha! Ah, it’s worth it. You’re very wrong. My archetype was a failure, an outsider, and a hippie. Should I say Yeokmasal….? I couldn’t easily stay in one place. Even if you find a job with difficulty, you suddenly leave. I got married and settled down, but then he left again. The desire to return to his home, a wealthy businessman, and the desire to not return to the home that coldly ignored his mother, who committed suicide, were both there. He, who had been wandering around his house all his life like a fly with its wings ripped off, died in the bombing. I remember him arriving at the last moment when he was eighteen. From the age of five, he thought, ‘I will become a great businessman like my father, who always wears a stylish white suit!’ It was that night when a boy with a dream stole his father’s stylish white suit and put it on. The wife, who was falling apart due to her husband’s frequent infidelity, began to turn to alcohol and drugs, and in her eyes, blurred by darkness and drugs, the man in the white suit looked just like her husband. Her wife, desperate for his affection, clung to the man in her white suit, and when her embarrassed son pushed her away, she felt completely abandoned….”

Taang-

W, aiming at the lower neck with a white glove, imitated the sound of a gunshot with his mouth and explained the tragic ending.

“…In that way, I was reborn. A wanderer who wants to return home but cannot. A man who hates himself, but somewhere in his heart he dreams of becoming a businessman wearing a white suit like his father, something he dreamed of as a child. A man who can go anywhere, but cannot return home. “It is what was created by combining those keywords.”

W talks calmly as if it were someone else’s story. Maybe it really is someone else’s story. When he was born, that memory was a vague memory of a man different from himself.

How would you feel if you had a memory of someone you didn’t even know in your head, and your life was determined by that memory?

Often in the community, people say, ‘I want to be that kind of variant.’ There was a time when I read the same article and had similar thoughts, but now I felt like I could never think like that again.

“How is it. Although I have no one to protect at the risk of my life or a goal to achieve at the risk of death, I have succeeded in becoming an adaptor. What is important is the strong omission in the object’s memory, and the ‘reference points’ in the memory that allow the memory to trace back to that point. There are many people who have suffered trauma, but most of them trace their memories back to that point and then lose consciousness. Well, it’s a memory I want to forget. “It means that only those who truly cannot forget, must not forget, or overcome something can reach that goal.”

“…I have a general idea of ​​your past and the goals of the Artists’ Union. Type 3 variant… So, do you want to increase the number of adaptors?”

“To be precise, we want to increase and protect.”

“So what does that have to do with the art you collect?”

Crunchy-

Instead of answering, W dragged the note in front of me and quickly sketched and wrote something down.

Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Rodin’s The Thinker. The Last Supper. Van Gogh’s Starry Night. The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo.

Then it was a whistle. For Elise. Titanic title song. Other famous songs by Michael Jackson and others that you may have heard at least once, even if you don’t know the exact title.

“Now, what comes to mind?”

The professor looked back at the memories that had just come to mind. During art class in elementary school, I saw a drawing of a woman without eyebrows. When I was in middle school, I had an upset stomach and sat on the toilet, thinking that maybe the person thinking was actually sitting on the toilet. I remember crying while watching Titanic. I remember installing it to try to imitate the moonwalk.

“…Memories are really interesting. At first glance, it looks like a cross-section, but it is actually very three-dimensional. One memory is intertwined with another memory, and that memory is intertwined with another memory. Since we are not omniscient gods, we cannot know what memories are involved in the life of a dying person. However, these works of art that everyone has seen, heard, appreciated, and felt happy about are a part of our common memories, and are a part of our memories that can serve as reference points. Isn’t that what art is all about? Expressing emotions that cannot be explained in words through an abstract medium. “There is nothing better than this to stimulate the memories of someone who is dying.”

“…That value refers to something that will be remembered by many people.”

“You understand quickly. As a habit, you joke constantly. It’s quite funny, and his unique speaking style is memorable enough. If you become famous and your speaking style becomes widely known, just recording the voice of the person called ‘professor’ will bring back many memories. “That’s what I meant by attaching value to your tone.”

After finishing speaking, W looked at the pocket watch in his arms like a scene from a movie, and then stood up.

Grumble-

Slam!

Sreung!

“this. “The story was so enjoyable that I almost missed my original goal.”

W tidied up his white clothes, adjusted his tie, swiped the teacup, and held out his hand to me.

“Today was fun. “It was truly worth your time.”

There was a moment of hesitation, but he gave us a lot of information and didn’t threaten us.

Following him who extended his left hand first, he extended his left arm, which had undergone a transformation, and shook hands.

“Oh, I forgot to mention this. Once the mutant virus has started blooming, it will continue to move against your memory to establish itself. If you feel that dangerous times have arrived, please contact me using the ID on the business card I gave you. “You are a worthy person to end your life in vain as a type 2 variant.”

W just blurts out a creepy story as if it’s nothing.

“I’m… becoming mutated? I am different. “My left arm is different from yours…”

“For details, ask him within.”

He tapped his head with his finger and opened the door to the hotel veranda.

His white suit fluttered in the cold night wind.

“I was originally planning to kill everyone who might interfere with my plan today, but… I have to repay my debt. If you don’t intervene in the future, I’ll tolerate it. Dojin…. Thank you for sending me off so well. I respected his will and watched him stay there, but if his suffering had lasted just a little longer… Well, there would be no need to criticize him as he left. The night weather is cold. Close the door tightly and cover yourself with blankets. “It can be a bit noisy, so it’s even better to wear earplugs and a bubble shield.”

“Do-jin… Kim Do-jin? Old picture?”

Tick-

Instead of answering, he held his hat and slightly lowered his head, then took a step back and fell over the railing without a moment of hesitation.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, he hurried out to the veranda, but as expected, W disappeared without a trace.

“…Hey, Ezel.”

“Uh, Ian. say.”

“If you are religious, please lend me a cross, a rosary, or anything else.”

“…I have one for myself, so let’s sleep together. “I’m so scared that I can’t sleep alone.”

That was the group’s opinion about the visit of the Artists’ Union that took place tonight.

Me and Ian. Bex, who had been threatening Ezel and the sniper who had sneaked nearby and had them point their guns at the white man, came running in a huff, saying he had seen a ghost, and that day we gathered on the bed and stayed up all night with our eyes wide open, each holding our trusted weapon tightly. It was loud.

Strange music was heard all night long from the outskirts of the city. Like thousands of orchestras playing different pieces of music at the same time, the sound of a lot of beautiful music mixed together and made into trash had a strange sensation, like a human panting, that made me tense my nerves.

The next morning, Area 38 dome. In particular, the inspection department was in an uproar. Farm district, their main source of income. Beyond the dome’s city-level shield, all of their lowlifes, who had been crammed into a four-person shelter, ten people at a time, had disappeared. The soldiers and serfs who guarded the watchtower. Even the agents of the inspection department who managed them. The place where everyone had disappeared was filled with only various scratches and disorganized traces.

Crunchy-

[Executive Department <-> Happy Blind <-> Artists’ Union]

The professor wrote a few more words on the note, crumpled it up, and threw it away.

“Even a wizard can’t do this, you crazy bastard…”

It was a truly clear, quiet, and unpleasant morning.

****

fantasy,