There Is No Hidden Villain in This Novel Chapter 102

The adult Ryuseong was walking over, steam practically billowing from his entire body, and his gaze was almost that of a grim reaper.

‘Holy shit.’

If I begged him to spare me right now, would he let me live? But no matter how much of a fake he is, baby Ryuseong’s kiss is just too cute. Can’t I just close my eyes, get a little peck on the lips, and then get beaten up?

The moment this thought occurred to me, I lowered my eyes and pretended I hadn’t made eye contact with the real one, but the adult Ryuseong approached menacingly, grabbed baby Ryuseong by the scruff of his neck, and mercilessly threw him…!

“You, you…! What are you doing!”

“Aren’t you the one who’s crazy?”

“No, do you have to be so harsh to a child? I am not crazy. Aren’t you just the one with a rotten personality?”

…Judging by how my tone is not very Cassis-like, it seems that my Jeong Ian persona and my Cassis de Millang impersonation are still difficult to maintain at the same time.

Could the fact that I now find it difficult, when I spouted it so easily at the time of transmigration, mean that I’ve started taking this world seriously?

Or, is it because of this guy, Ryuseong, just because of him alone, that my perspective on the world has changed, and it now overflows with an endlessly brilliant light, like a high-pitched hum and the warm, soft coloring of colored pencils? They say beauty can’t be compared, but that murderous glare fiercely staring at me right now…

Should I be honest? I nearly wet myself. He’s so damn scary. Shit.

“That thing is a monster! A specter! Don’t be fooled by how it acts warm like a person! It’s going to gently coax you and then eat you up!”

Come to think of it, I remember hearing in class that named specters can pretend to be human.

That they are strangely eager to die on their own and dream of culling the human population, but other than that, it’s difficult to tell who is a named specter.

That’s why everyone was confused about whether the Ryuseong rescued from the wasteland was human or not, but the controversy ended when a shaman, known as a god among men, read the unique title given to Ryuseong. The shaman who read the World Tree’s own handwriting, engraved on his soul from birth, was named Shin Jeonghwa, Shin Myohan’s grandmother…

‘It seems to be the same family that Cassis de Millang commissioned to cast a curse.’

Now that I think about it, I felt a resolve that I needed to finish things up on that front as well.

But that’s not what’s important right now.

“You’re the one who needs to get a grip! That kid looks exactly like you, so how can you expect me not to be captivated?!”

“What…?”

I shouted back, then immediately knelt on one knee in front of the little Ryuseong, who had been thrown to the ground and was starting to growl again. I lowered my body, smiled a little as if to say it was okay to approach slowly, and extended my hand just a bit.

Still, baby Ryuseong didn’t let down his guard.

Is it because he’s so adorably cute?

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

I know it’s irrational. Nothing good can come from getting attached to a specter. The best kind of love a specter can offer is obvious. I felt it earlier too. Baby Ryuseong will try to eat me to death. Putting me in his stomach as meat must be a specter’s way of loving. An expression of wanting to become one. Still, just because that kid looks like Ryuseong, and above all, because of the fact that he’s at least pretending to suppress his own desires…

I didn’t want to kill him right now. If someone else were to get bitten, that would be a different story, but, well. At least for now.

I wanted to be with him a little longer. I know this is really stupid.

‘If I said it feels like I’m comforting the younger you, you would laugh, wouldn’t you?’

Shit. Sorry for being an idiot, Ryuseong.

But I’ve read enough in print to know how much you suffered when you were young. And I empathized, resonated, projected myself, and came to love the character that is you. And that childhood of yours has appeared right before me.

Isn’t this a bit much? No matter what, something like this is excessively cruel to me, who loves you.

Still, I can’t stop myself from trying to reach out my hand. Just for the reason that it’s you.

Even if you try to eat me, it’s fine…

As I stared at him sorrowfully for a moment, Ryuseong forced down his temper as if grinding his teeth and muttered in a low voice.

“…The reason that thing isn’t approaching you is because it’s wary of me. It recognizes its own superior version.”

I felt displeased and narrowed my eyes.

“Is that advice? Or a threat?”

“Please fix your temper. Don’t interpret what others say with malicious intent.”

“So what do you want me to do.”

“Treat it like an animal. Just, hold food in your hand like before… Don’t snatch it away or play around, just give it. That’s all you need to do.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. That’s all.”

Ryuseong was speaking with a somewhat troubled expression, and it was from that point that I sensed his sincerity and did as he said. I held a piece of beef jerky in my white, half-chapped hand and extended it toward him. I gave him bread earlier, so I thought it would be okay to feed him beef jerky now. And the young Ryuseong, after glancing at the big Ryuseong, rushed at my hand with a desperate speed that my eyes could barely follow.

There was a loud munching sound. I couldn’t tell if that brat was chewing and swallowing the beef jerky or just shoving it down his throat. When I, startled, gripped the end of the jerky tightly to control the speed of his eating, I don’t know what happened, but in an instant, the adult Ryuseong threw the baby Ryuseong away. For a brief moment, in the scene that flashed by, it looked like a set of even teeth was revealed between that kid’s lips.

“What is it this time! Why do you keep…!”

“There’s a reason. Just offer the jerky again. This time, don’t stop.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why do you keep throwing the kid? It’s upsetting me, so speak clearly!”

“…Because no one knows that monster better than I do.”

When I looked at him, demanding a further explanation, Ryuseong gazed at the young Ryuseong with sunken, pale blue eyes.

It was a gaze as dark and quiet as the deep sea.

“That monster is the type of creature that might bite off your fingers and swallow them. So don’t treat it softly.”

Only then did I realize that the target of the briefly revealed teeth had not been the beef jerky, but the joints of my fingers.

“Don’t dote on it, and don’t give it affection. If you’re doing it because he looks like me, then do it to me.”

“I am already giving you my utmost love.”

“Then why are you feeding that thing.”

As if it had understood the nuance of the conversation, the baby Ryuseong, who had only been growling without being able to speak, charged fiercely at the adult Ryuseong. To be honest, I couldn’t follow their clash for even a moment. But I did see the result.

When I came to my senses, the baby Ryuseong was being mercilessly stomped on by the adult Ryuseong, a sword stuck in his abdomen.

“…!”

My eyes widened in shock. But it seemed useless to let my emotions show at this point. I tried to force a neat smile while suppressing the accusation of cruelty that threatened to burst out. Green blood, as befitting a specter, trickled from baby Ryuseong, and by this point, it seemed proven that the adult Ryuseong could definitely control the baby Ryuseong. And that was why I barely managed to ask.

“Mr. Ryuseong?”

And when I called him quietly, Ryuseong looked back at me. The adult Ryuseong seemed as if he would stop if I told him to. That is, like a loyal dog focused only on my command, but at the same time, as if hoping I wouldn’t stop him, he smiled a little sorrowfully…

“You asked why I was giving it food, didn’t you?”

Still, I couldn’t not say these words, and thankfully, Ryuseong nodded his head. And then, thinking that I didn’t even know what I was saying, I spoke.

“The kid is saying he’s hungry.”

Ryuseong looked at me like a man who had been hit several times. A rare, unguarded and vulnerable expression flickered across his face.

I thought that maybe I was the same. A river that cannot be crossed exists between a pink plastic spoon and a sand-covered corpse in the wasteland, but as for hunger, as for the starvation that stabs at your organs…

“I know he’s hungry.”

“…Cassis.”

“How can I do nothing?”

Ryuseong no longer focused on plunging the sword into baby Ryuseong’s belly. He pulled out the blood-splattered sword, shoved it carelessly into its sheath, and walked straight toward me.

I let myself be pulled into his long, thick arms as he embraced me, and slowly rested my ear against his chest. The thumping sound of his heart beating pleasantly resonates inside my body. Thump-thump. The proof of being alive…

I don’t deny the fact that, on some days, a certain hand scraping a pot was happy. On some days, I was happy because there was a lot of rice stuck to it, and on other days, I was happy because I could fill my stomach with the scorched rice stuck to the bottom. I don’t want to deny even the fact that such things felt good and happy. I just think that it would be nice if no human had to live like that. I’m sure that even while I live with a full stomach, someone in Africa or the Middle East is suffering.

However, I am a person who has experienced the maximum amount of pain one can experience in the 21st century in the Republic of Korea, outside of this book. If this were a novel, I’m such a remarkable person that an editor might reject my character setting for being too excessive. Because I am that person, perhaps words like these can reach you. To you, who has gone through all the hardcore trials that a protagonist of a fantasy novel could possibly experience, maybe I, of all people, can say this. Only we, who have suffered to death in our respective positions.

“I fed him carbohydrates just now, and protein, so now I’m going to feed him something warm.”

“…Should we? Would that be good?”

Could it be that only we can understand each other’s words?

“And after that, I’ll give him the warmest hug in the world.”

“Hug me first. Me first.”

So maybe I’m not alone?

“Yes. Let’s give him a kiss, too.”

“Me first.”

“Alright. You first.”

I want to pry open your ribs and enter, even if it means using such wretched and miserable language.

Because then you would surely let me in.

“I’ll kiss you.”

A memory like that, one that had brushed past me the moment I turned a certain page, embraced me.

Tightly, as if it never wanted to let go again.

But if all of this could end happily like a dream, my life would not be reality.