NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 22
Chapter 22
"...Wait a minute."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Evans? Evans? Did you just say Evans' book?"
"That's right, but why are you so surprised? Aren't you a regressor?"
Why am I surprised? Of course! Who is Evans?
A mage who studied time in the ancient continent, the only time traveler across all ages! A genius who traveled between the distant past and the highly developed future, leaving his mark in every era!
Evans is a man whose true identity is unknown even to the gods. The only thing known is that he freely crosses the walls of time and leaves behind strange books under the name of the writer Evans.
In fact, it's not unreasonable for King to talk about him so casually. Evans' eccentricity only began to be revealed five hundred years later when his deeds were connected like thread on a needle. Until then, he was merely treated as an immortal who had lived for a very long time and studied time.
Anyway, it's still a great discovery. A book written by Evans? And with a title like
Thud. Thud.
Frankenstein emerged from the darkness, dragging heavy footsteps. In his grotesque hand, he held a delicate book that seemed out of place.
As I expanded my vision like putting on glasses in the dark, I could see the title written on the cover.
"Oh, hand it over quickly."
As King reached out to take Evans' book, Frankenstein, with a dull expression, quickly pulled it back.
"Meat... barter... grrr...."
Wow, the Frankenstein of the past even knew difficult words like barter.
The Frankenstein I met five hundred years later was just a dumb fool. How did he end up like that?
"What? Meat? I'll give it to you later. First, hand over the book."
"Fooled... once or twice... our master is cunning...."
"...Tsk, it seems you'll have to do some work."
King clicked his tongue and looked at me. What, why are you looking at me? Just give him the meat he likes, and it'll be over.
"If you want something, you must offer something in return. Now, this old man's body is made of vegetables, so you'll have to do it yourself."
"What?"
"Meat."
With a short answer, King handed me a sharp silver knife he had pulled out from somewhere. A pocket knife that sparkled even in the darkness, as if it were the crescent moon replacing the sky's moon in this place where no moon could be seen.
But why give it to me?
"Show me your resolve."
"...Ah."
I understood King's intention. Since his vegetable body had no meat to spare, he wanted me to cut some from my own body. To carve out a piece of meat from myself that would satisfy Frankenstein.
"I don't want to do that."
"Hmm?"
"There are different kinds of pain, you know. Some are... how should I say... aesthetically pleasing? Like having all your teeth broken? Or having your eyeballs ripped out? Those are enjoyable pains, but cutting my own flesh with my own hands is not enjoyable at all."
"What kind of nonsense is that...? Well, if that's how you feel, I won't argue, but are you sure you won't regret it? Evans' book would be quite helpful to you."
"Why would I regret it? All I need to do is prepare the meat."
I spoke confidently. King looked at me with a questioning gaze, his emotionless eyes scanning me with interest.
"I see, a shift in perspective. You're quite clever."
"It's an essential virtue for surviving in this harsh world."
I picked up the knife King offered with two fingers and approached Frankenstein. Frankenstein, drooling at the thought of meat, paid no attention to me.
As I smoothly extended the knife toward him, King stared at me in shock. What, you told me to bring meat.
There's a living, moving piece of meat here, why not use it? Besides, he won't die from ordinary wounds. Isn't he practically emergency rations?
Slice-.
With that mindset, I naturally cut into Frankenstein's thigh. A dirty, grotesque piece of meat sizzled as it separated from the main body. It didn't matter since I wasn't going to eat it.
"Here, eat."
"Grr?"
"Doesn't it look delicious? This is a premium cut."
"Grr... raw meat... doesn't look tasty...."
"Damn, what kind of monster is picky about raw meat?"
Right, this guy was a noble knight in his past life.
"It's fine. This is yukhoe. Yukhoe is meant to be eaten raw."
"Yukhoe...?"
"Just trust me and try it. Eating it won't kill you, right?"
"Grr...."
Reluctantly, Frankenstein ate the piece of thigh meat I fed him. At the same time, he handed me Evans' book he had been holding.
"Munch... munch...."
"Is it tasty?"
"Ugh... it's not tasty... I've been tricked...."
"It's fine, you'll get tricked sometimes as you live. Grow strong like a weed in the rough winds, Frankenstein."
"...It's quite absurd for a five-year-old to say something like that."
"Hehe, the world is full of absurd things."
Throwing out a meaningless joke, I ignored Frankenstein, who was chewing and tearing at the meat with dissatisfaction, and turned to leave. My work here was done, and it was time to go.
"Ah, right. I almost forgot."
"What is it?"
"Do you have a shotgun? A pistol would do too."
"Shotgun? Pistol?"
"Ah, they haven't been invented yet in this era. Well, guns will be invented later in the military state. Anyway, since I can't ask for what doesn't exist, I'll take this kitchen knife. It's sharp, so it's good. Is that okay?"
I spun the knife around my fingers. Swish swish swish- the not-so-small kitchen knife danced wildly around my fingers.
"...I have no reason not to give it to you since I've already given you the best, but isn't that too much? You might even take that child away."
King pointed at Frankenstein with his finger and spoke. Huh, how did he see through my thoughts? Was King's intuition always this good? I better keep my mouth shut for now.
"Oh, no way. Demons have consciences too."
"Is that so? Alright. Are you done now?"
"Yes, I'll be going now. Let's meet again later."
As I cheerfully bid farewell, King led Frankenstein and disappeared into the darkness. The way out for me... I guess I'll just retrace my steps.
I glanced around for a moment. I had spotted something I liked earlier.
Confirming that King and Frankenstein had left, I quietly approached the object I had been eyeing. Among the various junk scattered on the floor, one particular piece of junk.
'Laughing Mask'.
A slightly eerie mask with its corners raised so high they almost reached the ears. The empty spaces, excluding the eyes, nose, and mouth, were painted white, making it even more appealing.
I picked it up with my gloved hand and carefully tucked it into my coat. The smiling face was buried between my chest. The knife was smaller than the mask, so I put it in my pocket.
Perhaps King was a generous tree? He gave me so many things I liked. Of course, the mask was stolen, but stealing is one of the seven virtues of demons.
Feeling good, my steps naturally became lighter. I stepped out of King's mansion with a light stride.
*****
"Huu......."
A demon made of vegetables and fruits sighs as it gazes at the ceiling adorned with antique decorations.
White smoke billowed up, embroidering the air. It was cigar smoke, something that couldn’t be produced by a mere sigh.
The red ember of the cigar flickered, cutting through the darkness. The Southern Grand Duke, who had just awakened from a long rest, looked extremely haggard. The fruit's color had faded, and the vegetables had withered, making anyone who saw them lose their appetite.
Of course, there was no such 'person' here.
'A regressor...'
The Southern Grand Duke's mind was in a state of rare complexity.
Having lived for nearly a million years, he had seen countless lifeforms. He had witnessed the birth and end of civilizations dozens of times and observed the rise and fall of species hundreds of times. He had watched the chaotic shifts in the Demon Realm's power, the change of rulers on the continent, and the world shattering from the wars of gods—all captured in his aged eyes.
There were many beings. Reincarnators born with peculiar memories, possessors who brought only their consciousness from other worlds, and inter-dimensional beings who arrived with unheard-of powers from unknown dimensions.
However, in the bloody battlefield where all these beings clashed and fought, there were those who survived to the end and became the final victors.
'Those who have traveled back in time.'
Regressors, like the child who had just left.
No matter what power or intellect one possesses, knowing the future is an incomparable advantage. Everyone moves within the palm of the regressor's hand, and the regressor moves a step faster than anyone else.
This was the reason the Southern Grand Duke had abandoned an active life. Living fiercely inevitably creates enemies, and no one knows if those enemies might turn out to be regressors. Unlike all other beings, regressors do not follow the absolute rule of 'death being the end.'
The Southern Grand Duke firmly believed this was the secret to his longevity.
'Is this world now... in the grasp of that child...?'
Huuu-.
Slouching on the plush sofa, the Southern Grand Duke puffed on his cigar relentlessly. Each puff carried his complicated emotions, dissipating into the air.
'Or perhaps...'
The Southern Grand Duke slowly turned his head. His eye sockets, filled with two tomatoes, gleamed sharply.
"I’m not entirely sure if I responded appropriately. I did relay the few things you told me, though."
"...."
"Demon King."
'Is this the world of this young Demon King, who even has that regressor under his control?'
The Southern Grand Duke's gaze reached only into the pitch-black darkness. But for a brief moment, as the ember of his cigar flared, the veil of darkness lifted, revealing a child hiding within.
There stood a young demon, like a wardrobe. Around five or six years old, a pair of disproportionately large red horns protruded from his head. The black sunglasses over his red eyes gave off a stylish glow.
"Meat... I want to eat... young meat..."
"Now, now, Frankenstein. He is not someone to be treated carelessly."
"Franken... hungry... cheated and hungry..."
"You fool, no matter how ignorant you are, you should at least know the difference between superiors and inferiors."
The Southern Grand Duke scolded his loyal but foolish subordinate while glancing at the Demon King. The Demon King's terrifyingly stiff expression, combined with the red sunglasses that obscured his gaze, perfectly concealed his thoughts.
So stoic was the Demon King that he didn’t even respond to the Southern Grand Duke's words. Despite his childlike appearance, the Southern Grand Duke felt an indescribable eeriness emanating from him.