Chapter 20: C-XX The Broken Violinist (2)

The interior of the containment cell was silent.

Both the violinist and we held our breath.

Manager Myeon entered first.

Behind him came Director Mok, Manager Batori, Assistant Manager Son, and Supervisor Shik.

And finally, me.

The metal door slowly closed as the sound of depressurization echoed through the room.

Even the air was different from outside.

The heat and the smell of ash clung to the skin like a sticky layer.

Every time I inhaled, it felt as if the roof of my mouth were burning.

Crackle.

A spark of residual heat jumped somewhere across the floor.

Instinctively, I turned my head away from the flames.

And then, it moved.

The Broken Violinist.

That figure resembling a charred corpse, as if it had learned the manners of some aristocratic dance.

It raised its blackened fingertips and offered an elegant and courteous greeting.

Holding the burned violin against its left side, it lifted the bow with its right arm and slowly bowed.

Its grotesque body bent with smooth grace, completely free of pain.

Fwoosh!

Ashes fell from the burned suit while embers scattered through the air.

It was, without question, a proper bow.

Beyond its ruined form and its hollow, charred eye sockets, traces of elegance learned somewhere still remained.

An elegance that was strangely polite and deeply unpleasant.

Assistant Manager Son’s fist-shaped head slowly tilted.

Manager Batori smiled.

One of Manager Myeon’s faces slightly thrust its snout forward.

‘Why is everyone…?’

I narrowed my eyes while pretending to remain calm.

The violinist slowly raised its head again and swept its gaze in our direction.

Burned eye sockets.

Embers glowing where eyes should have been.

Those embers seemed to slide toward me.

“We’ll begin.”

The moment Director Mok spoke.

——Screeeeeeeech.

The performance began.

It was completely different from what we had heard before.

This sound was intentional.

The first movement of the bow sounded like metal scraping flesh.

A note that seemed to deliberately peel away skin, lick the insides of ears, boil blood, and tear bodies apart.

A chill ran down the back of my neck.

——Skreeek.

——Screeeen, Skreeech.

An irregular rhythm.

Notes without melody.

It was not music, but rupture.

Every sound stabbed like a blade.

It felt as if wedges were being driven into the dark space between my ears and my brain.

I understood immediately.

This was not a sound humans were meant to endure.

Screech—— Boom.

Still dressed in that burned suit, The Broken Violinist wielded its bow as if it intended to end its own existence once the performance was over.

One by one, embers began floating throughout the containment cell.

Living particles of heat and vibration reacting to the flow of the music.

I took a step back.

No one followed.

Everyone remained where they were, observing the violinist.

Manager Batori slowly swirled her drink while smiling with interest.

Assistant Manager Son rested his chin on the interlocked fingers growing from his head.

Manager Myeon stood with his arms crossed, completely accustomed to the scene.

Supervisor Shik rattled his chains and blinked.

Director Mok remained motionless, silently watching The Broken Violinist.

‘Am I the only one who’s nervous?’

Even the saliva on my tongue trembled when I tried to swallow.

The music continued.

Or rather, the profanation of sound.

Screeeeeeeech.

Fragments of emotions crying, twisting, and tearing apart somewhere beyond perception.

If there truly was such a thing as grotesque music—

This was grotesqueness itself turned into music.

I opened my eyes wider.

I felt that if I closed them, the sound would penetrate even deeper.

An ember passed in front of my nose.

Ash settled on my shoulder.

I carefully brushed it away.

Even so, the performance did not stop.

The music was speaking.

In a language I could not understand.

Expressing terror and madness with torn flesh instead of notes.

Whenever the violin’s melody intensified, the mask on my face squeezed my cheeks while transmitting Manager Myeon’s low laughter.

As if the flames had taken form.

As if the melody itself had become a living existence.

The Broken Violinist was consuming itself within reality through music.

Screeeeeeeech.

“Hmm. It seems that performing is its primary purpose.”

Manager Batori spoke softly.

The hand absentmindedly stirring the straw came to a stop.

Her tone was calm as always, almost playful.

But the instant she spoke.

Thud.

All sound vanished.

More precisely, every note was interrupted with unsettling perfection.

The Broken Violinist’s bow stopped moving.

The embers suspended in the air froze.

The room became so silent that I could hear residual heat cooling.

‘It stopped?’

Stunned, I stared at the dimensional entity.

The Broken Violinist remained in exactly the same place.

The only thing that had changed was its posture.

Its head.

Slowly…

Very slowly…

Turned.

Its rigid, charred neck creaked as it rotated toward Manager Batori.

Then the hand pressing against the strings began to move.

“……”

Its blackened reddish fingertips stretched forward.

Directly toward Manager Batori.

Manager Batori did not move.

She merely tilted her head slightly while holding her tumbler, exactly as she always did.

And then—

A single crimson line cut through the air.

Flames.

A flame as thin as a thread began at Manager Batori’s feet.

It climbed her legs.

Her waist.

Her shoulders.

And in an instant engulfed her entire body.

Fwoooooooosh——!!

Too silent to be ordinary fire.

Too precise to be an explosion.

Too hot to be an illusion.

The crimson light and black soot devoured her completely in a single instant.

‘Fire? Is she really burning?’

Manager Batori was spontaneously combusting right in front of me.

No one moved.

Director Mok was taking notes.

Supervisor Shik did not even growl.

Manager Myeon.

He was smiling.

And Manager Batori?

She calmly straightened herself in the middle of that strange crimson inferno.

She raised one arm and lightly brushed off her shoulder.

As if dusting off her clothes.

Whoosh.

The flames disappeared from her fingertips.

The fire.

The smoke.

The smell of burning.

Everything vanished.

“It seems it truly hates it.”

Manager Batori said quietly.

Her unsettling crimson eyes remained fixed on The Broken Violinist.

“…When someone interrupts its performance.”

Right beside me, Manager Batori burned.

And survived.

After hearing the performance, all I felt was the unsettling certainty that I, too, could be set on fire at any moment.

Melted flesh, charred skin, swollen veins, and pulverized joints.

All of it began twisting and reconstructing itself as though flowing backward.

Skin crawled back over her body.

Flesh reformed.

Muscles restored themselves.

And in an instant she completely regained a human form.

Even the fingers adorned with delicate rings were perfectly restored.

When she opened her eyes, I understood immediately that she was truly furious.

Behind those bright red eyes and her relaxed smile, it was unmistakably clear.

Riiip—

The sound of flesh tearing.

Her back split open and dozens of tentacles emerged from within.

This was dangerous.

Not Manager Batori.

The Broken Violinist.

Each tentacle glistened wetly as it writhed with grotesque teeth and claws, sharp and menacing.

And just as everyone was about to lunge forward—

Manager Myeon raised a hand.

Silently.

Completely silently.

He spoke no warning.

He gave no order.

Only that right hand slowly emerging from the sleeve of his suit.

And the strange gaze of one of his seven faces.

At that simple gesture, Manager Batori stopped.

The tentacles writhed in the air for a few seconds, then trembled slightly before sliding back into her body.

The air became calm again.

Without a single black mark remaining.

Manager Batori let out a short sigh.

And immediately leaned back against a wall of the containment cell with the same calm expression she always wore.

“……”

I couldn’t say anything.

I couldn’t even breathe.

I couldn’t turn my head.

I could only endure as my face stiffened behind the mask.

Screeeech!

In the center of the room, the figure dressed in the charred suit lowered its head once again when the flames disappeared without any meaning.

And resumed its performance.

The strings stretched across the reddish air once more.

Screeeeeeeeeech.

This time it was deeper.

More twisted.

And even more grotesque.

And I kept staring at Manager Batori.

‘What the hell is that woman…?’

No.

Forget it.

The moment Manager Batori slightly turned her head and our eyes met, she gave me a gentle smile.

As always, that smile was calm and lazy.

But now it felt strangely unpleasant.

The Broken Violinist’s performance had been echoing for quite some time.

It coiled around my brain like rusty wire.

My heart beat irregularly.

My stomach churned.

The strings seemed to pierce my skin.

And the embers continued to brush against my lungs.

Even so, thanks to the mask Manager Myeon had given me, I could endure it.

That strange skin attached to my face continued suppressing my senses and keeping my mind clear.

Thinking about it, screaming would be the end.

Maybe Manager Batori would survive.

I wouldn’t.

If I interrupted that performance, I would undoubtedly burn to death.

I carefully kept my lips shut.

And watched The Broken Violinist continue playing.

Right now, I only had one task.

Listen.

Nothing more.

And finally.

Thud.

The performance ended.

The charred bow slowly lowered.

The temperature remained the same, but the heat vanished from the air.

Only the echo of that terrifying performance remained floating above the ashes on the floor.

The Broken Violinist slowly raised its head and looked at us.

The blackened collar of its suit crumbled into ashes.

And that red, charred face without eyes looked at us again as if expecting something.

Expecting?

What was it waiting for?

Then Manager Myeon gave two soft claps.

Clap. Clap.

The sudden applause startled me.

I turned my head.

Assistant Manager Son also began clapping.

Director Mok gently tapped his root-covered arms together.

Manager Batori held her tumbler with one hand while clapping with the other.

Even Supervisor Shik struck the floor in rhythm.

Thump. Thump.

So I did too.

‘I don’t know what’s happening, but…’

I awkwardly raised my hands and applauded.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

At that moment, The Broken Violinist slowly lowered its head and performed an elegant bow.

With its burned body bent halfway over.

The charred bow resting at its side.

And one leg extended behind it as though it had just finished a performance on stage.

‘What the hell is this?’

I sighed inwardly.

Had we just watched a show?

Was this extraction?

Seriously?

While that atmosphere of strange madness and peculiar order lingered, Manager Myeon stepped forward and pressed the exit button for the room.

Hiss.

The metal door opened once more.

And we left the room with calm steps.

Behind me, The Broken Violinist remained motionless in its bowing posture.

“Just as Manager Batori said. There are others of a similar category whose essence is performance.”

As we passed by the glass, Director Mok spoke quietly.

“The Frozen Pianist. The Decayed Cellist. Both are Rank B dimensional entities.”

I nodded.

“Then The Broken Violinist belongs to that category as well…”

“Yes. Most likely, The Broken Violinist will also be reclassified as Rank B.”

Those words made my heart tremble.

The Frozen Pianist.

The Decayed Cellist.

The Broken Violinist.

And if each member on their own was this dangerous.

What would happen if they were all together?

‘Forget it. Don’t even think about it.’

Back at the office, we finished the records and basic maintenance.

Director Mok completed several notes.

Assistant Manager Son was drawing figures in a notebook using the third hand growing from his head.

Manager Batori continued swirling her tumbler while watching the monitor.

Supervisor Shik remained lying on the floor with his chin resting on it.

Then—

“Employee Jeong.”

Manager Myeon turned his head toward me.

“Yes, Manager.”

I automatically straightened my posture.

“It is still too early for you to participate directly in work involving a Rank A dimensional entity, but…”

Several of his faces smiled gently.

“Observing should not be a problem. Learn everything you can until the very end.”

“Thank you. I will observe and learn as much as possible.”

I replied firmly.

‘Rank A.’

The final dimensional entity of the day.

The Portrait of a Dismantled God.

The name alone was enough to ruin my day.

‘What kind of terrifying thing will it be…?’

I sighed inwardly.

And shortly afterward, the entire Extraction Team 1 began walking at the same time.

Toward an unknown territory I had never set foot in since joining the company.

Section A of the Extraction Hall.

==========

[Dimensional Entity Management Profile: B-97]

Dimensional Entity Name: The Broken Violinist

Code: B-97

Type: Biological

Risk Level: B

(Reclassified to Rank B after field observation)

[Details]

Resonant Performance

It regards its own musical performance as proof of its existence. The sound waves produced by scraping the strings do not affect hearing, but directly affect cognition, distorting the senses, causing mental contamination, and generating emotional fractures in the target.

Sensory Ignition

It is presumed that the embers and ashes generated during the performance are not the product of conventional combustion, but the result of converting sound vibrations into thermal energy.

Against any target that interferes with the performance or provokes its displeasure, it fires thread-like guided flames with the intention of immediately incinerating them.

[Extraction Mechanism]

During the performance, the resonant frequencies produced within the containment cell are collected to extract high-dimensional sound energy suitable for refinement.

[Management and Extraction Manual]

Listening to the performance without protection causes rupture of the eyeballs and nasal mucous membranes.

It is mandatory to use Rank C or higher cognitive filters, or equipment with integrated curses.

The entity understands basic rules of courtesy.

At the end of the performance, applause is mandatory.

Failing to applaud or booing may trigger an explosive ignition of extreme temperatures throughout the containment cell.

Interrupting its concentration through conversation, noise, or other distractions during the performance is prohibited.

In particular, if the interruption comes from an entity with a powerful presence equivalent to a manager rank or higher, the entity will consider its performance insulted and unleash an indiscriminate flame attack.

[Special Recommendations]

Symptoms of dehydration due to extreme heat and mental exhaustion may occur after the operation.

Immediate stabilization of the nervous system is recommended.

It is estimated to share the same origin as B-31 (The Frozen Pianist) and B-75 (The Decayed Cellist).