The Foreigner on the Periphery

"Are you awake?"

Del opened her eyes, but she still lacked the strength even to lift her head.

She asked Yumtus,

"Where are we?"

"The Gelanco dimension. The dimensional jump was a success."

"...I see."

Yumtus cried out in excitement.

"You are truly magnificent. Well done! To think an Endelion would brave the danger and attempt a dimensional crossing with a bare body. This must be the power of faith!"

Although he had used Polymorph to take human form, Del recognized who he was. It was definitely the three-eyed alien Minjun always dragged around.

"It is a literal miracle. A miracle that allowed an Endelion to overcome their racial limits. Thanks to His authority turning the impossible into the possible, you too have conquered your fears, Princess!"

She could tell he was deeply moved, but she couldn't understand a single thing he was saying.

Del shifted her gaze downward. Noticing that her lower half had only partially completed its Polymorph, she drew upon her Magic.

"Ugh!"

Then she realized the inside of her body was a mess. Her Magic was tangled and chaotic. Enduring the backlash, she barely managed to complete the spell. The mass of tentacles that formed her lower half shifted back into human shape, clothing weaving itself over her skin.

"Ah, please do not push yourself! I poured every last drop of Divine Power into you, but it seems you haven't fully recovered yet."

He was telling the truth. Because he had been constantly tending to Del, Yumtus didn't have a single ounce of Divine Power left.

Fighting off a wave of dizziness, Del asked,

"...What about 'him'?"

"He stepped away for a moment on business."

"Is he safe?"

"Pardon?"

Yumtus replied as if it were the most ridiculous question in the world.

"Of course he is safe! Just as we are."

"That's all that matters. But... what is this house?"

Her senses were far from normal; it felt as though the pathways connecting her nerves to her brain had been twisted into knots. Yumtus's chattering echoed with a bizarre distortion.

Seeing her struggle to focus, the priest gave a brief summary of what had happened.

He explained that they had relocated to this mansion owned by stanians to nurse her, and that they had spun an appropriate lie to stay here for the time being. It was right when he finished saying this.

"...So that was it."

The voice did not come from inside the room.

"...?!"

Ha Eun-seong, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, leaped to his feet. Yumtus reached out with a look of dismay, but...

'Damn it!'

He had already exhausted all his Divine Power. The very moment he reaffirmed that grim reality...

Crash!

With a deafening roar, the door to their room splintered and was sent flying inward.

A towering shadow stood in the hallway. The culprit who broke the door growled in a low voice.

"So that's how it was."

Yumtus stepped forward, shielding Del.

A vicious, murderous intent poured through the darkness. The Weapon Master who had allowed them to stay here—Solada—glared at them through the ruined doorway. The soft glow woven from the light of the two moons fell across his shoulders. Half-hidden in the shadows, his face was contorted with pure rage.

Vwoom!

He held a greatsword in one hand. A blue aura rippled along the blade.

'How?!'

Yumtus couldn't understand the situation.

Before the avatar had left, he had definitely placed a curse to prevent them from waking up!

"A slave with a cut tongue? Bullshit. He speaks just fine."

Thud!

The Weapon Master took a heavy step forward, thrusting his sword out. However, his movements were subtly slow and clumsy. He was still intoxicated by the drugs Gulesh had given him, and the lingering effects of the curse remained.

That he had woken up at all was the result of several overlapping factors.

The hatred Solada harbored toward Dark Magic users hadn't formed without reason. Having thrown himself into mercenary work harder than anyone, rare was the stanian in this modern era who had suffered more Dark Magic curses than he had. Because of this, he had developed a sort of resistance.

Moreover, he was a far superior Weapon Master than Minjun had anticipated, and the energy storm that had just erupted from the basement had triggered his survival instincts. Sensing a natural disaster-class powerhouse nearby, his subconscious had jolted the Supernatural Ability User awake.

"Gulesh."

His gaze paused on the servant tied to a chair. Gulesh might have been loud, but he was a useful stanian who procured his alcohol and drugs.

Solada knew exactly what had bound him. The form was a bit different, but this eerie energy was undeniably...

"A shadow monster."

In other words, Dark Magic.

He shifted his eyes, looking at Del. Her legs, which were supposedly cursed to turn into tentacles, were perfectly fine.

"You deceived me."

A Dark Magic user chasing humans suddenly changed their mind, broke the woman's curse, tied up Solada's servant, and stuffed everyone into a single room?

Solada found another hypothesis much more compelling.

The assumption that there had been a Dark Magic user hidden among this group from the very beginning.

Since everyone here except Gulesh appeared perfectly free, it was the only natural conclusion.

"It's a misunderstanding!"

Yumtus pleaded urgently, throwing both hands up. His voice was thick with tension. Del could barely move her body, and he had entirely lost his combat ability.

Then their only remaining hope was...

"...!"

Ha Eun-seong slowly drew up the Magic within his body. He wasn't skilled enough to cast Polymorph yet, but he had learned how to dispel the Magic. He remembered the breath attack he had unleashed back in Germany. If he waited for an opening, reverted to a dragon, and blasted that crocodile with fire...!

His thoughts reaching that point, Ha Eun-seong suddenly halted his attempt. He tried his best not to stare past Solada's back toward the hallway.

It seemed Yumtus had spotted the same thing Ha Eun-seong just did. Having recovered his composure, the priest spoke to the crocodile.

"I am sorry. I understand this situation inevitably breeds misunderstanding."

Stagger!

Forcing strength into his giving knees, Solada marched toward them. Knowing his own physical limits, he moved carefully, never lowering his guard. The greatsword in his hand flashed with a menacing light. Its aura boiled over.

"However."

Only then did Yumtus's eyes focus on the empty air behind Solada. He finished his sentence.

"It seems we will never get the chance to clear up this misunderstanding."

Clang!

Along with a crisp metallic ring, a searing pain exploded in the back of Solada's head.

"Gah!"

Just before losing consciousness, he heard a man's voice drifting through the encroaching darkness.

"What the hell, how did this guy wake up?"

Thump!

Solada crumpled to the floor. Looking down at the man at his feet, Minjun pulled back the silver Frying Pan in his right hand. No, he tried to pull it back.

'Is he tougher than I thought? In that case...'

Whack!

Minjun smashed the unconscious crocodile over the head with the Frying Pan one more time. Solada's body gave a sharp twitch, spasmed, and then went completely limp. Only then did Yumtus release his tension and slump to the floor.

"Phew, I thought we were done for. Once again, we owe you our lives."

Instead of responding, Minjun quietly stared down at the bed.

Del had opened her eyes a slit and was watching him.

"...Del."

Their gazes locked in the air.

After a brief silence...

His ex-wife spoke weakly.

"So you're still using my present after all this time?"

Minjun looked at the Orichalcum Frying Pan in his hand. Reflecting two shades of moonlight—white-blue and pale purple—its edge was dotted with crushed scales, bits of skin, and droplets of blood.

"I've never once seen you use the Dagger I gave you... What a shame. I made it when I didn't have my memories, so the specs aren't as good, but I poured far more heart into it."

Del's head slowly tilted, and she murmured in a much smaller voice,

"...What a shame."

Minjun averted his eyes from his now-unconscious ex-wife. She hadn't fully recovered yet, but she must have been briefly roused by the earthquake and the shockwave from the Frying Pan.

His mind quickly switched tracks. Looking at Solada, he weighed his options.

'I really don't have the luxury of giving him a lengthy explanation at this point.'

His decision came even faster.

Thrust!

Minjun shoved the handle of the Black Frying Pan right into his mouth. Then he asked Asiph-1,

"Will it work?"

Brainwashing a Supernatural Ability User was vastly more difficult than brainwashing an ordinary human. But what about right now, when the man's resistance had plummeted from being drugged, cursed, and battered over the head with a Frying Pan?

If brainwashing him was still impossible...

'Then I have no choice. We'll just have to bury him here and move on.'

Blissfully unaware that his life hinged on the answer of the Frying Pan jammed down his throat, the unconscious Solada merely let out a weak gargling sound.

Just then.

=Ah, I think this should be doable!=

"Then I just need to feed him."

He had already burned through the ingredients he had brought, and the food storage on the third basement floor was ruined by the earthquake. It would be better to just procure fresh ingredients.

He gestured with his chin, calling out to Ha Eun-seong.

"Hey."

"Yes?"

"Head into the woods and catch a decent-sized beast."

"..."

It was a strange feeling—between yesterday and today, he kept being treated like a hunting dog—but the ghost couldn't rebel. He leaned out the window. Soon, the sound of leathery wings tearing through the air echoed and then faded away from the mansion.

Ha Eun-seong was off hunting wild beasts, while Yumtus closed his eyes and sank into meditation to recover his Divine Power. The two stanians remained unconscious.

Silence enveloped the surroundings. Minjun was left alone in the dark room. It was tranquility after chaos. Rather than sitting down to catch his breath, he simply stood there for a long time, staring down at the face of his unconscious ex-wife.

   *

Solada greeted the morning with a hangover.

His body was a mess from mixing cheap drugs with alcohol the day before. The back of his head throbbed as if it might split open, and despite eating barely anything, his stomach felt bloated. Classic hangover symptoms.

It was a familiar morning, the kind he always endured the day after indulging in booze and pills.

However.

'Huh?'

Something was different today.

'Why do I feel... so good?'

An emotion he had forgotten for a very long time was pooling deep within Solada's heart.

Just as he tried to look closer at its true nature...

"Lord Solada?"

He heard someone outside the door. Puzzled that it wasn't Gulesh's voice, he answered.

"Come in."

A servant whose name he still couldn't remember opened the door and stepped inside. Hesitating, the man held something out.

It was a sealed letter.

"When we woke up this morning, Gulesh was gone. In his room, we found this letter addressed to you..."

Unfolding the letter, Solada was taken aback. First of all, it was entirely unexpected for Gulesh—who had seemed quite satisfied with his job—to suddenly announce his resignation. The letter claimed that due to unspeakable personal circumstances, he had no choice but to hastily pack up in the middle of the night and return to his hometown.

He was surprised yet again by the Common Tongue handwriting, which was incredibly archaic, and the prose itself, which overflowed with a refinement far beyond what a servant should possess. Solada didn't have the skill to imitate such writing, but he knew enough to recognize that this was extraordinary.

'He must have been much more educated than I thought.'

The Weapon Master felt a pang of regret that Gulesh had left.

But he immediately grew puzzled by his own reaction.

'Why?'

Why was he sad to see him go? He asked himself.

The first reason that sprang to mind was simple. They had only been together for a day, but in this rural backwater, Gulesh had been a useful pawn who fetched him drugs...

No, that wasn't it.

Solada glanced at the empty bottles and drug packets littering the desk. He felt absolutely zero craving for them now. And it wasn't just because of the hangover. His behavior yesterday struck him as profoundly bizarre, entirely alien. Beyond that, he couldn't even relate to the way he had lived his entire past.

'Why did I even drink that? Why did I enjoy being drunk? It gives a fleeting moment of happiness, only to bring endless suffering from such toxic garbage.'

He realized once again that the thoughts and emotions filling him had been made completely anew.

"Hmm?"

But his train of thought was quickly derailed.

"What is this smell?"

"Those humans have been using the kitchen since dawn."

Solada headed down to the first floor with the servant trailing behind. The scene in front of the kitchen was much like yesterday.

"Meat stew? That's quite a large batch, isn't it?"

The human man who had introduced himself as an archaeologist turned his head. What was his name again?

Well, it didn't really matter. That sort of thing was fine to remember, and fine to forget.

"Our schedule changed, so we'll have to leave today."

"Right now?"

"Yes, as soon as this is done."

"But what about your wife?"

He recalled the poor woman who had been harmed by that wicked Dark Magic user.

Though she had no visible wounds and appeared perfectly fine on the outside, she couldn't move and had only been able to let out pained groans.

They said it was a curse that induced muscle weakness and a mild coma.

"It can't be helped. It's not as if staying here and nursing her will break the curse."

Finishing his words, the human transferred the stew from the Frying Pan into a massive container. However many times he had repeated this process, the container was already filled with enough food to feed five strapping stanian men for several days.

"Since we can't stay here and cook for you as requested, I've prepared a massive batch all at once. Thank you once again for understanding our circumstances."

"Ah, well. It's nothing."

Unable to shake off his sense of disappointment, the stanian said,

"Then, have a safe trip."

As if truly in a rush, the archaeologist immediately went to the second floor to pack. When the group soon began heading downstairs, Solada studied each of their faces.

The youngest-looking male slave was yawning endlessly as if he hadn't slept well. The muscular slave beside him was carrying several Coffin-like black boxes, just as he had when they arrived. Solada failed to notice that the number of boxes had increased by one. Finally, the archaeologist came down, carrying his wife on his back. Every time he took a step, her slender limbs swayed like willow branches.

Solada gazed at the loving couple. Then he pondered the real reason he had allowed them to stay here.

'How shameful.'

He hadn't taken them in—despite the undeniable suspiciousness surrounding them—simply out of hostility toward Dark Magic.

Those two represented something Solada had desperately craved but had never been able to obtain.

A successful marriage.

But that bond looked like it was on the verge of being shattered by a Dark Magic user. Shattered by one of them dying or becoming crippled.

Perhaps Solada had subconsciously wanted to observe that bitter end. The spectacle of what he could never have falling to pieces.

'The very fact that I ever harbored such feelings sickens me.'

To compensate for his own failure and misery, he had tried to revel in the failure and misery of others. He couldn't logically explain it, but that was how he had felt. Back then, at least.

But right now, in this moment, Solada sincerely wished for them. He hoped the wife would overcome the curse, and that the couple would reclaim their happiness. He could finally pray for them with a peaceful heart.

Because...

'I see. I am now...'

Watching that expression wash over the crocodile, Minjun mentally spoke to the Frying Pan in his hand.

'Hey.'

=Yes?=

'What kind of suggestion did you plant in him? It looks like something seeped into his mind far beyond what I ordered.'

=As sharp as ever. You noticed right away!=

'Obviously. His expression is completely different.'

The suggestion he had ordered Asiph-1 to plant was simply to tweak Solada's memories, dispel any suspicions toward Minjun, and compel him to forget about them once they left.

=When you shoved my handle down his throat yesterday, I took a peek into that stanian's mental world.=

'And?'

=At that moment, I remembered something I had long forgotten. The very purpose of my creation. My own categorical imperative!=

Which was...

=To bestow genuine happiness upon the people and save them from suffering!=

Asiph-1 explained what it had seen.

=There was such a massive, dark stain on that stanian's heart. A void, a deprivation that could never be filled just by eating. So while I was brainwashing him, I decided to leave him a little gift.=

Minjun clicked his tongue.

'You fed him an artificial sense of joy? So he'd feel it even without eating his "feed"?'

=I resolved the fundamental obstacle that was preventing him from feeling happiness!=

Hearing those words naturally brought someone Minjun had recently seen in his dreams to mind.

A woman from the distant past, reporting on the incidents of the "test subject" planet through a communications satellite.

"—Sniff... I apologize. I've shown you an unsightly display, oh Noble One. A problem occurred with the old test subjects quarantined on that remote planet..."

Overwhelmed with emotion the moment she saw him, she had shed endless tears through the hologram.

Back then, most of Minjun's kin resembled that woman. It wasn't that negative emotions were completely castrated out of them. It was simply that even if such emotions flared up, an overpowering sense of happiness would instantly replace them.

Whenever the Minjun of the past looked at them, he felt a profound sense of alienation. He felt it despite them being his own kin. He could never bring himself to relate to a temperament that would burst into joyful tears merely from looking upon the face of a noble being.

The reason was simple. In those days, the ordinary kin possessed something that the minds of the noble ones—like his master or himself—lacked entirely.

An inexhaustible fountain of happiness.

Because eternal life without a guarantee of happiness could only ever be an eternal hell.

"..."

Shaking off the distant memory, he spoke to the Frying Pan.

'You did something completely unnecessary.'

Minjun left the mansion with his group.

After they departed, Solada sat down with his servants and began to eat. Just like the porridge from yesterday, the meat stew was incredibly delicious.

Finishing his meal in a state of pure bliss, Solada started talking to his servants. He was curious about what kind of people they were. It was genuine interest, extended from one person to another. The servants were flustered, but they stuttered their way into the conversation.

After they scattered to do their respective chores, Solada sat on the terrace and bathed in the pouring sunlight. He felt relaxed and perfectly content. The hollow edges of his heart finally felt full again.

'Why did I change? What has changed?'

He reflected on his past. Solada had hated himself for a very long time. To overcome the lethargy and shame that choked him inside, he had tried to paralyze his emotions with alcohol and drugs, as if anesthetizing his own body. He had badmouthed the royal family, caused riots, and assaulted innocent people. The fleeting rush of power, the twisted sense of accomplishment, the joy of feeling like he was in control—those things allowed him to briefly forget his agony.

But the effects of those actions had only ever been temporary. After all, his core problem remained unsolved. The revulsion he hurled at himself was always bound to reflect outward, spilling over onto the people and the environment around him.

And in this very moment, Solada felt he had become a completely different person. He was no longer empty. The obsession that he could only become a better man through a relationship he had never achieved in his entire life was completely gone. He was entirely perfect exactly as he was.

The stanian looked at the terrace window. The glass reflected his face like a mirror. The same old disgust did not well up inside him. He accepted himself, just as he was.

Solada affirmed his own existence.

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