588 Episode 7. Trauma (1)

Would the 'Phantom Prison' work on people without any 'trauma'?

Time passed, yet nothing appeared in front of me.

As expected, I didn't have any trauma.

I was born into a normal family, had a normal childhood, and grew up without any incidents.

Although the long period of being an unknown writer was difficult, it was not traumatizing.

I made enough money to put food on my table by helping professors with their chores, and I didn't skip meals even if I had to survive on triangular gimbap.

If you considered that hard, then there was nothing in the world that wasn't.

So if I didn't see anything here, it wouldn't be too strange.

It was then that I heard a voice through the fog.

The fog parted to reveal a classroom scene.

Fresh-faced freshmen sat in an oval formation. Some whose names I no longer remembered, others I still kept in touch with.

Among them was I, looking at the professor with a blank expression on my face.

With that, the professor sat down and pointed to a student.

The student stood up and immediately began to share their trauma.

They sounded strangely proud.

As I listened, it slowly dawned on me what kind of class it was.

The creative writing program I attended had a famous freshman initiation ritual.

It was where freshmen were brought together and forced to confess their traumas.

It was a ridiculously violent event in retrospect, but at the time, some believed that such vulnerability was the path to true literature.

Clap clap clap clap.

When one person finished, another began to speak.

All the misfortunes in the world seemed gathered there. You could call it a 'misfortune contest'.

My parents' divorce, the disappearance of a grandmother with dementia, my family going bankrupt and receiving a foreclosure notice, going to the police station for stealing a motorcycle, having my house burglarized while I was sleeping...

They were all in their early twenties, so how did they have so many experiences?

It was a mystery to me.

What was even more mysterious was the professor scribbling in his notebook as if grading their traumas.

Finally, it was my turn.

I thought to myself.

What was the biggest misfortune, the most traumatic event that had happened to me?

Being chased by a dog as a child?

That's too weak.

Being put in supplementary classes because of low math scores?

It would just be a laughingstock.

I couldn't think of any plausible experiences. Compared to my peers, I had no story.

Story.

At that moment, an idea popped into my head. Taking a deep breath, I spoke the first sentence as if opening up a new universe.

Once I spoke the words, the story began to unfold.

I spoke about my mother, who loved books, and my father, who became violent whenever he drank.

I spoke about my mother protecting me from my father, about the broken bottle rolling across the floor, about how it felt when I first grabbed it, and about the sharp glass digging into my father's back.

The story was so vivid that I suddenly felt as if it had actually happened.

Maybe not here, but somewhere in the universe, a part of me had lived that life.

I was the one who started the story.

But when the story ended, I was part of it.

The room was now silent. The students stared at me blankly, without any comments, and the professor opened his mouth, having forgotten to grade me.

It didn't occur to me until then that I had made a huge mistake, and in my panic, I blurted out,

Maybe that was my trauma.

After that fake trauma fiasco, my classmates made comments like this every time they read my writing.

I wondered what sincerity was.

Even after writing web novels for years, I still don't know what it is.

To put it bluntly, sincerity to me was something like the ghost standing before me now.

I smirked and approached the specter.

I swung my thorn with all my might. Since my opponent was a spirit, the hit damage was low, but the Specter's face was slightly distorted.

The dying Specter spoke to me.

Why did people want to tell their stories so badly when there was nothing interesting about them?

Puhwak, a hole appeared in the Specter's face. Through the gaping hole, a pitch black darkness stared back at me.

I stared into the empty hole of the Specter.

There was no need for pity. There was no reason for it.

For in a world where nothing had happened, there was neither sorrow nor joy.

Splat!

Once again, the thorn struck the Specter, and it fell to the ground with a choked scream.

I grabbed the Specter by the nape of its neck and said,

"Don't die yet. There's someone I need to meet."

Then I leaned close to the hole in the Specter's face and called out a name.

I don't know if this will work or not.

But, if my guess is right.

—Who is it?

And after a moment.

I heard someone's voice through the fog.

—Yoo Joonghyuk? Is that you?

It was a voice I'd never heard.

—Are you......?

But it was definitely a voice I knew.

'I am Cheon Inho.'

I let go of the Specter's neck and stood up.

Through the hazy fog, a blonde foreign girl stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.

—It's you, 'The One Who Deceived the Stars'.

I nodded and opened my mouth to speak to her.

"Nice to meet you, Anna Croft."

Yoo Joonghyuk said.

The story gave me two hints.

One, there was a way to meet Anna Croft in the 'Chungmuro tunnel'.

Second, I could get the memories of the last turn from Anna Croft.

Anna Croft, who possessed [Past Sight], was the only person besides Yoo Joonghyuk who could obtain information about the previous turn.

Now that I was under suspicion from Yoo Joonghyuk, nothing could be better than hearing the details of the previous turn from Anna Croft.

It was for this very moment that I had faced the Specter without any magic resistance equipment or skills.

Just as Kim Dokja had, I used the 'Phantom Prison' mechanism to call out Anna Croft.

—How did you know my name? You can't possibly know it now.

"Yoo Joonghyuk told me about you."

—You've already met him?

"I met him by chance, though your reaction makes it seem like that wasn't supposed to happen."

Anna Croft's eyes shook slightly.

—He really does whatever he wants.

Looking at it, Anna Croft and Yoo Joonghyuk shared a connection.

I didn't know how these two former enemies had ended up working together, but now was the time to use what I had discovered.

"It's Yoo Joonghyuk, as usual. But I want to hear about it. What happened in the last turn? He said you would be able to tell me."

I tried to sound casual, but Anna Croft's eyes flared sharply.

—Last turn? What did you hear from Yoo Joonghyuk? How much do you know?

"Does it matter?"

—Answer.

I sighed lightly.

This 'Lie Detection' thing.

"Did you forget that I can bypass 'Lie Detection'?"

Embarrassment flashed across Anna Croft's expression.

—You, how.......

"Let's not waste time fighting and get this over with. It doesn't matter who I heard it from. If you keep dawdling, I might change my mind. Right now, I'm here to help you, but in ten seconds, I might feel differently."

—......You're going to help us? Are you serious?

I wondered if I'd said something wrong, but after a moment of silence, Anna Croft spoke up.

—Just before the end of the previous turn, Yoo Joonghyuk said that when I saw you in the 41st turn, I should show you your memories of the last turn.

As expected.

It was like that.

—To be honest, I had no intention of listening to him because I don't trust you.

"The villain is going to reform, so please help me."

—Cheon Inho, do you even know what you did in the previous turn?

"I don't know, I don't remember."

—I don't know what Yoo Joonghyuk is thinking. The two of you are just as bad...

Anna Croft sighed lightly.

The fog of the Phantom Prison was beginning to thin. There wasn't much time left.

"I'll ask you one last time. What happened in the previous turn? I need to know that much to decide if I'll help you."

Anna Croft hesitated for a moment, then spoke up, seemingly decided.

—Okay. If you want it so badly, I'll tell you.

"Be quick."

—I hope you have a shred of conscience left. I hope that when you see this story, you feel a fraction of that hellish pain.

As Anna Croft quietly closed one eye, I thought that this was not something the woman who had enslaved Yoo Joonghyuk in the 2nd turn would say.

Past Sight. An unprecedented 'Prophet' OP skill that allowed you to glimpse your own memories from the last world line.

Tsuchuchuchut.

With a light spark, images and sensory information flowed into my head.

Acrid smoke made my eyes sting, and the heavy stench of blood made my head throb.

It didn't smell like the blood of just one or two people; it smelled like the blood of at least a thousand, turning the area into a crimson sea.

A man stood in the center of the bloodbath.

A black coat and a sword stained with blood.

His entire body was stained with blood and dirt, but it didn't dull the glow in his eyes.

I looked up at the polar-night sky. I could barely see any stars. From somewhere, the cry of a dragon echoed.

As if counting the few stars left, the man said in a calm voice.

Anger at its peak, reduced to ash.

The emptiness and heartbreak in his voice.

My heart sank just listening to it.

Suddenly, the clouds parted, and a faint starlight illuminated his face.

Yoo Joonghyuk dropped his gaze and looked at someone.

A man stood opposite him, unperturbed by the overwhelming momentum of the Supreme King.

A blackish red coat fluttered in the ruins.

Black wings stretched out from the coat.

For a moment, my heart throbbed.

Because I thought he might be Kim Dokja.

But the voice wasn't Kim Dokja's.

The owner of the voice was laughing.

As if mocking everything in the world, the man continued.

Though he wore a pure white half-mask, it was not difficult to recognize his face.

It was not hard to recognize his face, for it was the face I faced when I first stepped into this world.

And there was the 40th turn Cheon Inho.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading today.