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.