There Are No Humans in the Monster Company — Chapter 19: C-XX The Broken Violinist (1)

Chapter 19: C-XX The Broken Violinist (1)

In‌ the hallway of⁠ Sector C of‍‍ the Extraction Room,⁠ in front of‌‍ the second door.⁠

Extraction⁠ Team 1 had‌ just arrived and⁠ was observing through‌‌ the glass.

The⁠‌ interior was dark.

A space where light‍ had been deliberately‌‍ removed.

In⁠‍ the midst of⁠ the silence, illuminated⁠ only by small⁠ red embers floating‌‍ in the air,‌ it stood there.⁠

A charred suit.

A charred violin.

Charred‍‍ skin.

Everything⁠‌ about it looked‍ as though it‍ had passed through a fiery hell,⁠ warped, shrunk, and⁠ carbonized.

It⁠‍ simply stood there.‍

Black‍⁠ ashes rested on⁠⁠ its shoulders, and‍‍ tiny embers fell⁠ from the tip‌‌‍ of the bow‍ it held.

It was impossible to⁠ distinguish its sex,‌‍ age, expression, or⁠⁠ any other feature.⁠‍

“It‍‌ doesn’t move.”

Director⁠‌ Mok muttered as‍‍‌ he approached the‍ glass.

One of the roots⁠‌ protruding from his‍ knotted body slowly⁠ extended to probe‌ the air on⁠‍ the other side‍ of the cell.‍

“Its⁠ presence is very‌ clear.”

Assistant‌ Manager Son tilted‍⁠‌ his head back‌‍ and lightly tapped‍ the glass with‌⁠ the fingers of‌ his hand-head.

The‌‍‍ atmosphere was completely‌ different from that of The White⁠⁠ and Chubby Furball.‌

Different‍‌ enough that I was already starting to miss it.‍‌‌

It⁠‍⁠ was an unfamiliar‍ and very distinct‍‌‌ fear.

“Mr.⁠‌ Jeong.”

Manager‌⁠ Myeon called me.‌⁠

One‌ of his faces⁠ slowly turned toward⁠ me.

“Don’t‍‌ be afraid yet.‍ This one is‌‌ relatively docile.”

Relatively.‍

My‍‌‍ lips trembled slightly‌‌‍ when I heard‍‌⁠ that word.

It⁠ was then.

——Rumble.⁠

The‍‍ bow vibrated on‍‌ the other side‌‍⁠ of the glass.‌

The‌ Broken Violinist moved.⁠‌

Its‌⁠‍ blackened fingers slowly‌‌‍ raised the bow.⁠⁠

——Screeeech!‌

At‌‌ first, it sounded‍‌‍ like a scream.‌‌

The‌ screech of metal‌‍‌ scraping.

The⁠‍ sound of fabric‌‍‌ tearing.

The noise of blood‌⁠⁠ spilling out.

It‍ was as if all those sounds‌⁠ had fused into‍‌⁠ a single sharp‌ melody.

And‍ then the music‍⁠ came.

A strangely throbbing violin⁠ melody silently filled⁠‌ the cell.

The⁠‍ embers stirred across⁠ the floor.

The‍ ashes floated through‌⁠ the air.

The⁠ temperature inside the‌ cell began to‌‌ rise.

I found it hard‌ to breathe.

A buzzing of blood⁠⁠ echoed in my‌‍ ears.

That grotesque melody felt as though it⁠ were being driven‌ directly into my⁠ brain.

“It‍‌⁠ appears to be‌‌ a type of‌ mental infiltration.”

Director‌ Mok muttered.

“Listening‍‍ to the performance‌ seems to first‍ induce boiling in‍‌ the semicircular canals⁠‌‍ and the lymphatic⁠⁠ system. It’s quite a dangerous frequency.”⁠

“We‍ could reclassify it⁠‍ as Rank B.”‌

Manager‌‌ Myeon said.

“The‍‌⁠ Adjustment Department usually‍⁠ assigns provisional classifications‌⁠‍ based solely on‌‌ capture difficulty.”

At‌‌ those words, Manager Batori smiled as‌‌ though she found⁠ the entire situation‍‌ amusing.

“Even‍ now, something is⁠ being extracted.”

Assistant‍ Manager Son lightly tapped one of the fingers on‌ his head.

“We‍‌‌ still don’t know⁠‍⁠ the exact mechanism,‌‍ but it definitely‌⁠ reacts to whoever⁠ listens to the music.”

Even‌ though you don’t‌‍ even have ears.⁠

I swallowed that joke⁠⁠ along with my saliva.

The⁠ Broken Violinist simply‍‌ stood there.

Every‍⁠ time it played‌ the violin, something‍⁠ seemed to leak‌‌ out.

Through‌⁠ the ears.

Through⁠⁠ the head.

Into‍⁠ the deepest parts⁠ of the brain.‌⁠‍

I felt pressure building‍‌ in my chest⁠‌ again.

“Let’s‌ observe a little‌‍ longer and then⁠ we’ll go in.”⁠

Manager‌ Myeon said, as‌‍ if summarizing the⁠‍⁠ situation.

“Mr.‌⁠ Jeong, are you‌ doing alright for‌‌ now?”

“…Yes.”‌‍‍

I replied quietly as⁠‍ I stepped a little farther away‍‌ from the glass.‌

Just‌ one step.

At that moment, an⁠‍ ember spread across⁠‌ the surface of‌ the glass as‍ if trying to⁠ cling to it⁠‍ before slowly dispersing.⁠

The‌ Broken Violinist turned‌ its head.

Just‍ a little.

Very‌ slightly.

Toward‍‍ me.

It‍⁠‍ was an expectant gaze.

A void filled with‍ ashes instead of⁠⁠ eyes.

And⁠‌⁠ that void was⁠‍‍ watching me.

I took another step‌ back.

Crackle.‍ Crackle.

And‌ then came the‌‌ silence.

As‌ if someone had⁠ been burning and⁠‍ had suddenly stopped.‍⁠

The creature’s gaze transformed⁠ into contempt.

Then‍⁠ it resumed its⁠ performance.

——Skreeeeee!‍ Clang!

The⁠ music of the‌ Broken Violinist was⁠ not heard.

It was felt.

Every‌‌ time the charred‍‍ bow brushed against⁠ the strings, something‍⁠ flowed through my ears and sank deeper and deeper.‌

I felt a pressure‍ in my chest‌ again.

My heart lost its‍‌‍ rhythm with a heavy thump.

‘Why‍⁠ is my head…?’‌⁠‌

My vision filled with⁠ incomprehensible symbols.

A strange echo, as‍‍ if a wind⁠‌‌ were blowing from⁠‍ somewhere unknown.

I felt something break inside my ears.

Instinctively,‍ I brought a hand to my‌⁠ forehead.

My‌‍ palm came away‌‍‍ wet.

I looked down.

It was red.

Blood.‍

Dazed,‌‍ I wiped my⁠ eyes with my‍⁠ sleeve.

My‍‍ sleeve became soaked⁠‌ as well.

Bloody⁠‍ tears.

And‍ blood running from my nose too.

Even‍ though I had⁠‍‍ stepped away from the glass, fluids‌ continued to escape‍‍‍ from my body.

I couldn’t look away.

Somewhere,‌ I heard someone swallow.

“Hmmm.”‍‍

Manager⁠ Batori licked her‍‍ lips.

It⁠⁠ seemed like a joke, but at‌‌ the same time⁠⁠ it felt as‌ though she had‍ genuinely swallowed, which‍ sent a chill⁠ down my spine.‍

“Basically,⁠‌ all dimensional entities are harmful to⁠‌ humans.”

Director⁠‍⁠ Mok’s voice sounded afterward.

Then,‍‌ suddenly.

Something‌‌ resembling a green‌⁠ vine extended in⁠ front of my‍‌ face.

If⁠ I drank that,‍‌⁠ I could survive.‌‍

Just as I was about to open‍ my mouth like‌ a person dying‌ of thirst—

“Leave‌‍ him for a moment.”

The‌‍‌ voice coming from‌‍ the right jaw‍⁠ of Manager Myeon⁠‍‌ froze the hallway.‌

“Keugh…”‌⁠

The vine stopped right‍‍ in front of‍ my nose.

“Yes,⁠‍‍ understood.”

After⁠ hesitating for a moment, it retreated⁠ back toward Director⁠‍ Mok.

“Khk…‍‌ agh…”

Meanwhile, fluids continued to‌‌ pour from my‌⁠ body.

My⁠‍⁠ lungs felt as‍ though they were‌⁠ shrinking.

My‌ heart was beating‍‌ more weakly and‌ erratically by the⁠ second.

I looked at the violinist beyond the‍⁠ glass.

It‌‌ seemed to be‍ mocking me.

“It’s‍ about time… no,⁠⁠‌ let’s observe a little longer.”

There⁠‌ was no trace‍ of Manager Myeon’s‍‍ usual kindness left‌ in any of⁠ his pupils.

Only‌ the coldness of an academic observing‌ a laboratory animal.⁠⁠

He⁠ had no intention⁠⁠ of helping me.‍‍

Why?‌

Was‌ this punishment for‌ an employee who‌ had become arrogant‌ after receiving a little recognition?

“Manager…⁠⁠ Myeon…”

I raised my head‍‍⁠ as I sank⁠⁠ into despair.

And⁠‌⁠ then.

Manager‌⁠ Myeon walked toward⁠‍ me.

Even‌‍ though I had⁠‍ been the one⁠ to call him,⁠ I took a step back on⁠⁠ reflex.

He⁠ didn’t seem to⁠⁠ care.

He⁠‌‍ slowly approached and‍ raised a hand.⁠⁠

The left.

No,‌⁠⁠ to be precise,⁠⁠ the face on⁠ the far right‍⁠ that he was‍ holding with his⁠‌‍ left hand.

The‍‍ small pale and‍‌‍ kind face that‍‌ was always smiling.

And‌‍ then Manager Myeon‍‍‌ simply—

Crunch.⁠

Tore‍‍ it off.

No‌‍ blood.

No‌‍‌ screams.

Like‍‌ a mechanical part⁠ coming loose.

Like‍‌ one magnet separating‍ from another.

The‌ detached face continued⁠ writhing while maintaining its shape, resting‍ calmly in his‌ hand.

Then⁠‌⁠ Manager Myeon slapped‌ it onto my face.

Slap.‌

“Guaaaarghhh!!”⁠‌⁠

A scream erupted instantly.‍⁠

It⁠‌ came from my face, but it‌‌‍ wasn’t mine.

Manager‌⁠⁠ Myeon’s face twisted‍‌ and screamed across⁠‍ my cheeks, my‌⁠ eyes, and my‌⁠‌ forehead as it⁠⁠ adhered itself to⁠‌ me.

Hot.‌

Wet.‌⁠

As though our skin‍ were mixing together.‌‌

No.‍‍

As though it were devouring my face.‍

I flailed my arms‌‍ frantically.

I kicked the floor.‌

I slammed into the⁠‌ wall.

I shook my head.‍

“Assistant Manager Son!”

It‌ was an obvious‌‌⁠ plea for help⁠ to anyone.

But—‍‍⁠

“Oh.⁠‌⁠ It seems to⁠‍ hurt. Mr. Haeil,‍⁠ this is when‍⁠‌ you should be‍‌ saying thank you.”‌

“Please‌‌‌ calm down, Mr.⁠‌⁠ Jeong.”

“…The⁠‍⁠ adaptation is happening⁠ faster than expected.”‌‍

“Fufu,⁠‍‌ how adorable.”

“Grrroook,‍ grrrr, kuruk.”

The⁠ voices of my‍‌ superiors were absurdly‍⁠‌ calm.

They‍‌ had no intention‌‌ of helping me.

Nor⁠ did they seem‍ surprised.

Nothing.‍‍

I writhed with my entire body as‍‌ I slammed into‍‌‍ the wall.

‘It’s⁠‍ cooling down…’

And‌ then, something that⁠‍ had been hot‌‌ began to cool.‍

The⁠ sensation of adhesion‍ began to integrate⁠‌ with me.

Through‍ my tongue.

My‌ eyes.

My⁠⁠⁠ brain.

Manager‌ Myeon’s face began‌ to seep into‍ my senses.

And⁠ then.

The violin music stopped.

The‍‍ melody was cut‌⁠⁠ off abruptly.

The‍ Broken Violinist lowered‍ the bow once‍‍ more.

Its‍ empty face remained‍ pointed toward me.⁠

Within‌‍ that nonexistent expression,‍‌⁠ I sensed something.

‘…Interest…?’‌⁠

No.⁠‍

‘…Anger…?’‍

Not‍⁠ that either.

Simply⁠ resonance.

As‌⁠ though he and‌ I had shared‌⁠ the same frequency‌⁠‍ for a moment.‌

I slowly inhaled.

There⁠‍ were still tiny‌‍ remnants of Manager‌ Myeon’s facial skin stuck around my‌‌‌ mouth.

They⁠⁠‌ no longer writhed.‌

Everything‍ seemed frozen.

Merged.‌

Motionless.⁠‍‍

I cautiously looked back‌ at the violinist.‍‌

That‍⁠ charred face was⁠‌ still watching me.‌‍⁠

I lowered my gaze⁠ slightly toward my‌ reflection in the‌ glass.

Something‍‌‍ strange was on⁠ my face, soaked‍⁠ in blood and‍‍ cold sweat.

That‌‌ small face torn from Manager Myeon.⁠

It‌‍⁠ was now on‍ my face.

More‍‌‍ precisely, it was⁠ attached to it.‍‍

That‍ nauseating thing stuck‍ to my skin slowly began to‌⁠ writhe.

Like⁠ a mask.

No,‍‌ more like skin.‍⁠‌

It‍‌ trembled slightly as‌‌ it became thinner, smoother, and eventually‌⁠ hardened to match‌‌ the contours of‍ my features.

I felt nauseated as‌⁠ foreign muscles settled‌‌ over my cheekbones‌⁠ against my will.‍⁠

From‍ inside the mask,‌‌ fine roots penetrated⁠⁠ my pores and⁠⁠ sent strange pulses‍ directly into my‍ brain that did⁠‍ not match my⁠ own heartbeat.

Thump. Thump.

A terrifying sense of‍ unity, as though‌‍‍ another person’s heart‍⁠ were beating inside⁠ my cheek.

“……”‍⁠⁠

I took a deep‌‌‍ breath.

And⁠ then I realized something.

The‍‍ melody that had‌ seemed to drive‌ me insane just‌ moments ago.

That‍⁠⁠ viscous, distorted mass⁠ of sound produced‍⁠ by the Broken‌‍ Violinist.

It‍ was now nothing‌ more than an‍‍‌ unpleasant noise.

The strings vibrated.

The‌ embers floated.

The‍‌ charred corpse moved‌ its hands.

And⁠‌‍ I calmly watched‍ that thing in‌‌ a suit raise‍ its bow.

I was fine.

“See?‍ You’re fine now.”‌

A familiar voice.

That voice that always⁠‌ seemed to slightly‌ shake my brain.⁠‍

The⁠ rough voice coming⁠‍‍ from that fist-shaped‍⁠⁠ head.

“…Assistant Manager Son.”

I looked at him‍ as I spoke.‍

His⁠‍ voice no longer‍ sounded strange to⁠ me.

It‍ was as though‌ my clogged ears⁠‍ had finally opened.

That‍ sensation that had⁠‍ scratched at the⁠ inside of my‍ ears was now⁠⁠ nothing more than⁠ a moderately grotesque⁠‍ sound.

It was still strange.⁠

It⁠⁠‍ was still frightening.‍

But‍ I could endure‌‍‍ it.

“I’m‍ fine. Now…”

“Fufu.”⁠‌

Manager⁠‌ Myeon, who was‌‌ watching me, let‍‌ out a small‍‍ laugh.

The‍ smile was the⁠‍‌ same as always.‍‍

But⁠‌ now I saw‍ it differently.

Manager‌ Myeon’s head.

More⁠⁠‌ precisely, the place‌‌ where he had⁠ torn off the⁠⁠‍ face he had‌ placed on me.⁠‌‍

Something⁠‍⁠ began to emerge⁠ again.

The‌‍ skin distorted.

The⁠ cells shredded and‌‍ expanded.

And⁠‌ within just a few seconds, a new face appeared.⁠

Faced‌‍‌ with such an absurd sight, all I could do‌ was watch.

I didn’t understand it.‍‍

But‌‌ I would have‌‌ to get used‍ to it.

“In‍‌ the Extraction Room,‌⁠ you will use⁠‌ it as a mask. For now,‍‍⁠ it will protect‌‌‌ the inexperienced Mr. Jeong. And now,⁠ Director Mok.”

Manager Myeon said.

He⁠‍ had returned to⁠‍ his usual polite‌‍⁠ and gentle tone.‍

“Ugh!”⁠

The⁠ next instant, a branch entered my‌ mouth.

The⁠‌ fresh scent of‌⁠⁠ wood.

The‍⁠ sticky sweetness of⁠ a viscous substance.‌‌

Something⁠ slowly slid down‌ my tongue and⁠⁠ past my molars.‍

“It‌⁠ is a recovery‍ solution containing stabilizing agents. If you⁠‍‌ swallow it, it‌ will also alleviate‍‍‍ some of the⁠ mental contamination.”

I swallowed again and⁠‌ again on reflex.‍⁠‌

Little by little, my⁠ breathing returned to⁠‍ normal.

My⁠⁠ erratic heartbeat regained its rhythm.

The⁠ dizziness faded.

Although⁠‌‌ it was quite‌⁠ obvious who had‌ been responsible for‍ nearly killing me‍‌ just moments ago.‌

For⁠‌ the moment, I was honestly grateful‍ to be alive.⁠

I bowed my head‌‍ deeply.

“T-thank⁠ you, Manager Myeon.”‌

Manager⁠‍ Myeon.

The‍ same person who⁠‌ had always been⁠ polite and kind‍ to me.

He‌ had let me‌‍⁠ suffer.

He‌ had pushed me⁠ to the limit.

And‍‍ for the first⁠‍ time, he had shown me something.‍

Just⁠⁠ as Supervisor Shik‌‌ had his claws⁠ and fangs.

Assistant‍ Manager Son had‍ his fist-shaped head.⁠

Manager‌‍ Batori had her⁠ tentacles.

And‌‌ Director Mok had‌‍ his roots.

Manager Myeon had torn⁠ off one of his own faces‌‌ and attached it‍ to me.

Expressionless.‌⁠

Emotionless.‍

Merciless.‍⁠‌

Like‍ a white, expressionless‌⁠ mask made of‌ skin.

“Haha… I already miss⁠‌‌ the White and⁠ Chubby Furball.”

When‌‍ I finally managed‍ to catch my⁠‌ breath, a smile‍‍ appeared on my‌ face by itself‍‌ despite knowing that‌⁠ my face had⁠⁠ literally become a mask.

I even felt that‌ controlling my expressions‌ had become a little easier.

Assistant⁠⁠ Manager Son let‍ out a silent‍⁠ laugh from behind me.

“You⁠ can’t encounter only things you like.⁠‌ Compared to some⁠ other things, this‍⁠‌ wasn’t that bad.”‍

I raised a hand‌ and gently touched‍ the Manager Myeon⁠‌ mask attached to⁠ my face.

The‌‌ surface was warm.

And⁠‌ it had a strange sensation of‌‌ being alive.

It‌‌ even felt as though something was‍ lightly writhing beneath⁠ it.

‘How disgusting.’

That‌‍ was what I thought.

But‌ I kept my‌ lips sealed.

I lowered my hand‍⁠ while pretending not to care.

“It‍ seems this dimensional‌⁠ entity will not‍ display any additional‌‌ special behavior. With⁠‌‍ this, we should⁠‍ be able to‌‌‌ finish these insignificant‍ games.”

Manager‌‍ Batori said.

For‍ the first time,‌⁠⁠ she seemed to⁠ have lost interest.‌

Manager Myeon nodded calmly.‍

“Then, let’s go in.”‍‍⁠

One‍‍‌ of his faces‌ smiled.

With‌‌‌ another hand, he‌ pressed the access‌‌⁠ button to the⁠‌ cell.

Hiss—⁠

With‍ the sound of⁠ pressure being released,‍ the thick metal‍ door slowly began‌ to open.

The⁠ lights flickered.

An⁠⁠ irregular current of air flowed out‌⁠ from inside.

I slowly followed my‌‍ superiors into the‌ cell.

‘…Ugh.’‍‍

A pungent odor invaded⁠⁠‍ my nostrils.

The‍ stench of burnt‌⁠ flesh made my⁠‍ head go numb.

The‍‌ air was scorching.‌‍

Sweat‍‍ appeared on my‌‌‌ forehead.

I even felt my‌ vision blur.

I swallowed silently.

I wasn’t thirsty.

But the sound echoed‌‌ clearly inside me.‌

‘It’s okay. I’m wearing⁠‌ this strange mask.‍ I’m fine.’

I repeated it to‌ myself over and⁠ over as I crossed the threshold.‍‍

Inside‍⁠‍ the cell.

The‍ presence of the‍ violinist dressed in‌‍ a charred suit became more and⁠ more intense.

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Chapter 19: C-XX The Broken Violinist (1)

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