My declaration unleashed a ripple of murmurs, spreading like spilled water.
I had deliberately spoken in a loud voice.
Infusing it with keywords.
How had I phrased it?
“…That—that can’t be true, can it? Such an obvious lie… Speak it again.”
Thanks to Ghost Sword, who pressed for confirmation with disbelief in her voice, I had the chance to repeat myself.
Information repeated twice tends to embed itself deeply in one’s mind.
I, once again, put force into my voice and spoke.
“Yes, the man who massacred cannibals at the hands of the Bureau is now critically wounded and on the verge of death.”
There were three keywords.
1. The Bureau.
2. Cannibals.
3. On the verge of death.
There are, inherently, many ways to draw attention.
My idea was borrowed from reality.
Rumors like a living celebrity dying, or the U.S. President passing away.
These kinds of ‘falsehoods,’ regardless of their veracity, invariably attract immense attention.
While they also cause massive ripples, that wasn’t my concern.
“Hmm?”
“Someone died?”
Even those who had never known me lent an ear, if only for a moment, to the news of someone’s death.
They seemed to be gradually drawn into the atmosphere I was creating.
That, however, was a matter for later consideration.
Without glancing at those slowly approaching, I focused my gaze on a more distant spot.
Specifically, on humans, not on the monstrous beings whose appearances were far from presentable.
“…What?”
Those already active in the gallery would undoubtedly show even greater interest in this fact.
Especially in my case, I rarely posted comments or wrote articles, mostly lurking (TL Note: ‘Noonting,’ a Korean internet slang term referring to passively browsing content without actively participating.) during my free time.
In short, I was an enigmatic floating user.
Countless people had messaged me, asking for my identity.
And I, who had struggled to survive without ever revealing my vulnerabilities or facing death.
The news that I was on the verge of death, gasping for breath.
“…Is that truly so?”
It was a topic that drew attention, whether one liked it or not.
And the reactions I desired were still yet to come.
‘Surely, one of those Bureau bastards must be here.’
The Bureau, and the cannibals.
The cannibal horde in the neutral zone would also have obtained information about me.
Unless they were a completely dysfunctional group, having suffered over 50 casualties and lost an executive.
It was likely they would be searching for me.
Of course, the cannibal matter was good bait; it would be great if it caught something, but acceptable even if it didn’t.
The most crucial element was those ‘Bureau’ bastards, who had inexplicably infiltrated the urban legend I was part of.
Information about them was extremely scarce.
This was because all posts from before their collapse had been erased.
Even when I privately asked Admin, the only reply I received was that they didn’t know either.
That’s why I threw out all the bait at once.
In front of Ghost Sword.
She persisted with her disbelieving tone, before eventually asking with a voice laced with suspicion.
“How am I to believe such words? That child, dead at the hands of a mere defunct organization?”
“Well, I wonder how I could prove it to you…”
“Ha! I’ve seen plenty of charlatans like you. Begone!”
“A charlatan, you say? Even though I possess a wider intelligence network than you?”
To see me as a charlatan.
‘Damn, their eyes are sharp?’
Yet, the fundamental principle of deception is to ‘appear plausible.’
I crossed my arms and boldly looked down at her.
She was wearing heeled shoes, but even so, her eye level was lower than mine.
It seemed I could exert a slight sense of pressure.
“Can you offer proof?”
“Of course.”
“Ha, everything about this is intriguing. Should I, perhaps, fetch a chair?”
‘They’re treating me like a door-to-door salesperson.’
‘As if I’d spend an hour trying to convince you?’
“No need for that. There’s a place called the After Room, I hear. Shall we meet there later?”
“…What?”
“Since it seems we have much to discuss, just the two of us.”
Naturally, at a masquerade, identities remain unknown as faces are hidden by masks.
Therefore, merely speaking as if I knew her identity would grant me an advantage.
Because the other person would feel uneasy.
But I knew who the woman before me was.
“You are… Ghost Sword, aren’t you? I’ve personally wanted to meet you.”
‘What’s in my pocket?’ Or, more primally.
It was akin to answering “Do you know who I am, you punk?!” with a precise response.
Judging by the haughtiness in her tone and her dismissive attitude toward me.
I surmised that revealing her as ‘Ghost Sword’ would shock her.
…
“How… do you know…”
I cut her off abruptly.
“I heard that giving a handkerchief is a request for an after-meeting.”
I handed her the handkerchief I had received from Kol earlier.
She let out a hollow laugh, clearly taken aback.
After a moment of apparent deliberation, she eventually nodded and spoke.
“Very well, I will listen to you myself and ascertain its worth.”
“A wise choice indeed.”
This secured a private meeting with Ghost Sword.
I needed to understand why she wanted to take me as her disciple.
“…Indeed.”
As if repelling the converging crowd, she quietly moved aside and watched me.
‘It seems she’s not heading to the room first.’
‘Come to think of it, am I supposed to go with her?’
I conveyed this question to her with my gaze.
She gnawed on her lower lip for a moment, then, as if telling me to do as I pleased, sharply turned her head and spun around.
As I stared at her with a ‘What do you want me to do?’ expression.
“Excuse me…”
The Kappa Mask wearer gave me a hint.
“That’s her reaction because it’s her first time receiving an after-meeting request. The manager will come soon to explain the procedure, so don’t worry.”
Just as they said, Kol approached, led her, and headed somewhere.
It seemed she was completely unaware of what an after-meeting entailed.
I was also curious about this fellow.
‘What kind of person are they, to be serving as Ghost Sword’s subordinate?’
However, without a chance to ask, the Kappa Mask wearer, hunched over, disappeared into the crowd.
And, perhaps drawn by my recent actions and words.
“I’d like to hear a little more about that story.”
Other individuals approached, seemingly intrigued.
Most of them looked like ordinary humans, but a few had the appearance of monsters.
A man with octopus tentacles flowing from beneath his mask asked.
‘Ugh, damn, that’s disgusting.’
“Did the Bureau cause another incident?”
‘Aha, someone who knows about the Bureau… no, an octopus has arrived.’
The octopus-man seemed annoyed, repeatedly clearing his throat.
I leveraged his apparent irritation to the fullest as I replied.
“It’s probably exactly what you’re thinking.”
As I spoke, I gradually revealed bits of my information.
It seemed there were only about two gallery members present.
Even as I spoke, I kept my gaze fixed on the octopus-man.
‘Whatever you’re thinking, tell me.’
I adopted an instigating tone, coupled with a gesture of exasperated frustration, and spoke.
“They haven’t done *that damned thing* again, have they? Those disgusting, filthy bastards.”
For a moment, I felt my breath catch.
If it became known as ‘that damned thing,’ everyone would refer to it as such.
And then I would have no way of knowing what the hell ‘that damned thing’ actually was.
‘Should I ask?’
If I did, the image of ‘the man who knows everything’ that I had just cultivated would shatter.
Pondering how to maneuver my words.
While lost in such thoughts.
“Ahem.”
Fortunately.
“Are you referring to the Urban Legend Amplification phenomenon? Is that still being practiced?”
A man nearby, who had seemed eager to interject.
Began to thoroughly clear up my confusion.
****
‘What the hell, that’s like Red Mask (TL Note: A Korean urban legend similar to Kuchisake-onna, a woman with a slit mouth.) wielding a chainsaw!’
Selecting a single urban legend and causing it to evolve or escalate into a special one.
As I listened to the man explain, I thought.
‘It’s truly a good thing I’m wearing a mask.’
‘I probably wouldn’t be able to control my expression.’
To utilize the Urban Legend Amplification phenomenon.
It was said to be essential to enter an urban legend that someone else had already entered.
Why was the Bureau called the Bureau?
The reason was precisely because something existed that allowed them to enter other urban legends.
“How do you, Sir Namgung, know so much about that?”
I turned my gaze to the people who had, by then, gathered in small groups, attentively listening to his story.
He was wearing a mask, a Gumiho (TL Note: A nine-tailed fox from Korean folklore.) mask, which was rather unmanly.
“If you study diligently, these things naturally become known.”
He shrugged his shoulders, as if eager to show off his knowledge.
‘This is damn convenient, isn’t it?’
From then on, to allow him to flaunt his knowledge, I made sure more people could hear him.
“It’s truly rare to meet someone who knows about that!”
Or.
“How remarkable! You are truly a treasure trove of knowledge.”
And so on, mixing in phrases that drew all the attention from the surrounding crowd.
The man then gleefully spilled out other pieces of information.
‘Hmm, it seems the information about the Bureau ends here…’
Typically, showing off knowledge often leads to personal ‘theories’ as the conversation progresses.
This man, too, after explaining why the Bureau fell, began to offer only his own opinions.
‘By the way… the Bureau was almost annihilated by a single doppelganger?’
I had gleaned a lot of valuable information.
And the fact that the Gumiho mask wearer had drawn all the attention was an even more excellent timing.
After making one last, decisive move to draw attention.
I quietly slipped away.
It seemed that no matter how remarkable I was.
Everyone was captivated by the information concerning the formidable organization known as the Bureau.
That’s why no one noticed me stealthily departing.
“Urban legend… amplification.”
I had gained unexpected, high-level intelligence.
If that were still possible.
Had they truly ‘sprinkled shit’ on my urban legend?
‘I should assume they did, as that’s the worst-case scenario. But what the hell did I do to deserve them coming and causing trouble?’
Since my life was always on the line, I had to assume the worst and seek the best solution.
That’s why I was pondering whether the Bureau and I had any connection…
‘Damn, there isn’t one.’
I still wasn’t sure.
Whether they acted out of a grudge against me, or if they had another objective and I just happened to be there.
Wandering around the second floor, lost in thought.
Just as I was about to head to the After Room.
“To request an after-meeting on the very first night… My, are you planning to use that ‘bat’ right away, Mr. Dokkaebi (TL Note: A Korean mythical goblin-like creature.)?”
“Don’t use such a vulgar word as ‘bat’.”
Kol approached, subtly provoking me.
She guided me.
Walking down a quiet corridor behind the ballroom, Kol explained that it was a very soundproof location.
She added that no matter what happened, it would be thoroughly cleaned by the next day.
“Have a pleasant time, hehe… heh.”
“Why are you laughing like that?”
Leaving Kol with her lewd smile behind.
I entered the After Room.
*Creak—*
As the medieval-scented door swung open.
‘What the hell is this now?’
Ghost Sword.
*Whoosh!*
She grabbed me by the collar.
Pointing a sword, which seemed to appear from nowhere, at me, she spoke in a voice filled with shame.
“You… lecherous fiend…!!”
Though she hadn’t removed her mask, her entire neck was flushed red, and she was breathing heavily.
She clearly appeared to be furious.
“Why are you d- … Ah.”
Just as I was about to retort, dumbfounded.
Only then did I realize.
“Why did you bring me to *this*… place!”
Seeing the room filled with SM devices and a romantic bed.
That, ‘Oh, damn, I messed up.’
I understood.
