There Are No Humans in the Monster Company — Chapter 20: C-XX The Broken Violinist (2)

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).