The World Does Not Exist for ■■

Translator: FenrirTL
Editor: ford53
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< Chapter 26: A Different Choice, a Different Path, a Different Name >

“A world without gods, without mana. How have you managed to live in such a cursed world?”

–Excerpt from the UN Memorial Collection – First Contact Records with the World Beyond the Dimensional Gate

***

Jangman, an old man respected as a senior by all the smugglers in Incheon, entered his tavern with a blank expression on his face. He hadn’t expected much since the windows were broken, but the tavern was in a worse state than he had anticipated.

The floor was deeply gouged in places, and all the tables and chairs were smashed to pieces. The ground was littered with broken glass from light bulbs, windows, and liquor bottles.

“At least the counter is intact, that’s a relief.”

Sighing, Jangman went inside, grabbed cleaning tools and garbage bags, and got to work. The cleaning progressed lethargically.

Despite the old man’s stubborn effort, moving his hands busily, the end seemed nowhere in sight; too much was broken.

As he struggled alone with the cleanup, Dung Beetle returned to the tavern. He looked like he had come from a mine, covered in soot.

“Sir, you’re safe. I was worried you might have been followed by those people.”

“Worried about what? Escaping is not that hard.”

Jangman waved his hand dismissively as if it was nothing. Any smuggler worth their salt would have a getaway plan prepared, so it wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I had some strange experiences, but…”

“Is that so? Tell me about it later. Let’s finish cleaning up first.”

Jangman handed Dung Beetle some cleaning tools. Dung Beetle took them without a word and started cleaning.

The trash began to noticeably decrease when the former cleaner, who was also a superhuman, joined the effort. Before long, the tavern looked somewhat like its old self.

Jangman found a bottle of liquor that had miraculously survived and sat down on a garbage bag filled with trash.

“So, what exactly happened?”

After tying up the last garbage bag, Dung Beetle briefly explained the events that occurred after Jangman had escaped.

Freya Khan intervened in the fight and released the Blue Rats, the swordplay she taught under the guise of instruction, and even the story of receiving the dagger.

Jangman’s eyes sparkled when he heard about the dagger while taking sips of liquor.

“Freya Khan gave you a dagger imbued with martial arts? Is that true?”

“Would you like to see it?”

Dung Beetle nonchalantly pulled the dagger from his coat. The beautifully glowing blue blade was revealed, with letters engraved upon it twinkling.

“Oh…”

Jangman immediately stood up and examined the dagger. His eyes lit up like a child who had just seen a new toy.

“Even by its appearance, I can tell. This is the real thing. Not some crude imitation made on Earth, but an authentic relic from beyond the dimensional gate.”

“…A relic?”

“What, you’ve never heard that word before?”

Dung Beetle nodded. Relic? It was a word he hadn’t come across in textbooks for the civil service exam, nor had he heard it on TV.

“…Well, that makes sense. It’s not a word you’d come across in formal education.”

Jangman took a sip of his drink before continuing.

“Relics… are objects created by superhumans or magicians from beyond the dimensional gate to pass down their techniques and teachings to future generations.”

“Techniques?”

“If you inject mana, magic recorded in the relic is activated, allowing you to see the creator’s memories. It plays out like a video, or you can fall into a dream… that’s what’s known.”

“…It’s more impressive than I thought.”

“Yes, it’s impressive and just as valuable.”

“Even by your standards, sir?”

“Of course. Ordinary people like me can’t even use it. It’s traded only among superhumans, and even the average smuggler is lucky to see a couple in their lifetime.”

Dung Beetle once again looked at the mysterious letters engraved on the blade of the dagger. If it could be used by injecting mana, there was no need to find a translator to decipher the letters.

While he was silently raising some mana, Jangman looked at Dung Beetle’s face and said,

“Don’t you dare think about injecting mana here and now.”

“…”

“…Were you already trying to?”

Instead of answering, Dung Beetle gave an awkward laugh. Jangman shook his head in disapproval.

“Follow me. I have a suitable place for that.”

Picking up the dagger, Dung Beetle followed Jangman out of the tavern’s back door, deep into the alley.

Passing through the alley filled with the strong scent of the sea, they reached a dead end more populated with trash than people. Jangman stopped and inspected the ground for a moment before bending down to lift a manhole cover.

Creak.

What seemed like a manhole cover lifted easily, revealing it was an iron door that was disguised.

Dung Beetle didn’t ask why there was something like this in the alley floor but instead followed Jangman down below the iron door.

Underneath was a long corridor made of concrete. It seemed it wasn’t just a typical sewer, given that only a bit of dust had settled on it.

“Where is this…?”

“It leads to an underground bunker.”

“A bunker? Did you make it, sir?”

“Even if I had money to burn, I wouldn’t build such a thing. This was built by the U.S. military during the trusteeship period. It’s a place even the Korean government doesn’t know about.”

Jangman and Dung Beetle, using their cell phones for light, walked down the corridor. After navigating a narrow passage, they reached a heavy iron door resembling a bank vault door. Jangman opened it with practiced ease.

Creak.

Beyond the door lay a treasure trove that was literally priceless.

The large bunker was filled with sizable safes, stacks of cash, and gold bars piled haphazardly.

“…You’re wealthier than I imagined.”

Dung Beetle commented briefly, to which Jangman snorted.

“All the things in this warehouse combined aren’t worth as much as the dagger you’re holding.”

While Dung Beetle was at a loss for words, Jangman handed him a cell phone.

“Use the relic here. If something goes wrong, no one will follow you here. I’ll leave my phone so if you need anything, just call me.”

Jangman patted Dung Beetle’s shoulder. It was a crude gesture of kindness from a smuggler who had spent his life without much affection for others.

Facing an unfamiliar act of kindness, Dung Beetle bowed his head.

“…Thank you, sir.”

***

Left alone in the bunker, Dung Beetle settled in the center and pulled out the blue dagger.

‘Relic, huh…’

A dagger more valuable than all the glittering gold in the safes.

He didn’t believe that Freya Khan had given it out of sheer generosity. Even though she was an incredible superhuman, she was affiliated with the Australian government.

Surely, she had given him the dagger after weighing her own costs and benefits.

But whatever the motive, a kindness was still a kindness.

‘Someday, I must repay it.’

Dung Beetle remembered all the kindness he had received. From Sir Jangman, Freya Khan, and Seti.

If he was still alive after his revenge… he would repay their kindness.

With that resolve, Dung Beetle injected mana into the dagger.

And the next moment… the bunker was gone.

Blinking, he looked around and found himself standing in a vast meadow.

Where the bunker ceiling had been, an unfamiliar night sky gazed down at him, and where the safes and money once lay, unfamiliar grasses spread out beneath him.

‘A mirage?’

Dung Beetle narrowed his eyes and gathered mana.

Every sense felt normal, yet everything about the meadow felt both strange and familiar.

Just like… when he had been in Mignium’s dream.

A dream.

‘…The dream of another being.’

As he realized this, a faint voice came from above.

“You’ve realized already? You’re quick. Too quick, even.”

Dung Beetle looked up to find the source of the voice.

The owner of the voice was, quite literally, a comet. A comet with a white and blue tail embroidered across the night sky.

He wasn’t sure if it was the right expression, but Dung Beetle found himself gazing into the comet.

“To think a successor would come, but instead, a monster arrives.”

The comet seemed displeased with something.

Dung Beetle pondered for a moment before asking in his usual soft-spoken voice.

“…What do you mean by successor?”

“The one who will inherit my freedom. The one who wields the Star Sword to break free from all restraints. It seems that she hasn’t told you anything?”

“Freya Khan only said to learn the swordplay.”

“Ah, that child has never been good with words. Or perhaps she thought there was no need to tell you.”

The comet sighed and spun around in the night sky, the star tail drawing irritated curves.

“Tsk, she probably wanted to establish a connection with you, but you’ve already formed a contract with something else. It’s a pity, but I cannot give the Star Sword to someone who isn’t a successor…”

The comet, mid-complaint, suddenly froze as if taxidermied in the middle of the sky.

“This… what in the world…?”

The comet tried to say something, then stopped as if choked.

After a brief silence and enough time to feel something was wrong, the comet spoke again.

“What are you, exactly?”

“Comet?”

“Such… a contract… no, no!”

The shadow in the night sky writhed, and the comet’s body shook violently.

Panic, confusion, and fear filled the starlight that decorated the night sky.

It was a beautiful yet absurd scene, but fortunately, it didn’t last long.

As the night sky seemed to swallow the comet by pulling in the light, the comet declared its surrender.

“Stop, stop! I’ll do as you say!”

A pitiful voice. Dung Beetle deliberately looked away from the comet.

The shadow that was tormenting the comet was, most likely… a being he knew all too well.

“Please, I’ll give it to you directly, stop… just stop.”

With those words, the comet emitted light. A light he had never seen before, so intense.

Flash!

Dung Beetle reflexively closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the comet was no longer visible.

Instead, a child made of light lay next to him.

As Dung Beetle narrowed his eyes, the child staggered to its feet.

‘This child is…’

As soon as he saw the face made of light, he knew, even without being told, that this child was the comet he had been talking to.

“You… you wanted my swordplay? I’ll give it to you. As much as you want. Just… oh!”

The comet couldn’t finish its sentence. The next moment, it began to vomit something.

“Gah!”

Stars poured out of the comet’s mouth. It was a sight that would naturally make anyone’s eyebrows furrow, but Dung Beetle, keeping his composure, approached and patted its back.

It was a habit from his days as a cleaner. If you left a drunk alone while they were throwing up, there was no telling when they’d stop.

After a good while of patting, the comet closed its mouth.

“Hah… Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath, the comet looked at Dung Beetle, who had been patting its back.

Even though he couldn’t read its expression made of light, it seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“You, to you I will give my sword… the Comet Blade.”

“…Didn’t you say it couldn’t be given to someone who was not a successor?”

“I cannot give the power of the stars. But giving the true essence of the swordplay is not hard. Do you understand?”

Understanding or not, Dung Beetle nodded.

He could have asked for more details, but seeing the comet’s tearful face, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“Light overflows without discernment, not distinguishing left from right…”

The comet said, clenching its fist. After a moment, the comet opened its palm to reveal a small bead.

“This bead contains the true essence of the Comet Blade. I do not know how long it will take you to fully comprehend it… but with your talent, it should not take even a year.”

Dung Beetle carefully reached out to take the bead. Or rather, he tried to.

The comet stopped just before handing it over. When Dung Beetle looked at its face in confusion, the comet, trembling, spoke up.

“Ju-just… child. Promise me one thing.”

“A promise? What kind of promise?”

“If you see Freya Khan, make sure to return the dagger. I am asking you this as a favor.”

Dung Beetle couldn’t bring himself to refuse. The comet’s voice was too desperate.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Th-thank you. Keep that promise… please…”

With that, the comet passed the light to him. As Dung Beetle took the bead of light, the dream surrounding him faded away.

Shaaah­

Unlike entering the dream, returning to reality was disorienting.

His skin tingled as his sense of touch came back, and a faint tinnitus heralded the return of his hearing.

Then smell: the dusty scent of the bunker, and an intense aroma of chili powder and MSG…?

‘…The smell of ramen?’

Dung Beetle inadvertently furrowed his brow. And in the next moment, his vision returned.

Blinking a few times to clear the blurry vision, a familiar face came into view.

A beautiful face with sharp features, black hair tied up hastily, and blue eyes sparkling like gems.

Hong Seti. The familiar woman was sitting on the floor of the bunker, spread with a mat, boiling ramen on a portable gas stove.

“…Am I still dreaming?”

As Dung Beetle spoke, their eyes met.

Caught just as she was about to eat, Seti froze with the lid of the pot in her hand.

A brief silence, a lengthy awkwardness.

“Uh…”

Just as one of Dung Beetle’s eyebrows arched high, Seti spoke.

“…Would you like to join me?”