Chapter 1 - Let's Become a Wizard (1)
10 min read ·
Once upon a time, back when Zeus was fucking nymphs, a shepherd named Gyges lived in some Greek backwater. By chance, he found a magic ring that made him invisible.
Gyges used the ring's power to steal without getting caught and amassed a fortune. In the end, so the story goes, he sneaked into the kingdom, killed the king, and became king himself.
What an utterly ridiculous story.
Anyway, the interesting part is that nobody could bring Gyges to justice for his crimes. They couldn't find any evidence that he'd killed the king.
If someone gained the ability to escape responsibility for their actions...
Say, for example, they could turn invisible like Gyges and commit crimes without getting caught. Or they acquired a grimoire capable of causing things beyond human understanding.
How would they act?
How should they act?
I wish someone would tell me.
* * *
Even if you're picking a college major more or less at random based on your test scores, my personal advice is that poor students—kids with no parents—should stay away from philosophy. You'll have to skimp on food to buy textbooks that aren't even useful.
... Well, the sociable ones get theirs from upperclassmen. So let me add a qualification: if you have no parents and aren't good with people, don't major in philosophy.
[Blah Blah Philosophy Book–34,000 won]
“Tsk.”
Standing in the bookstore, I clicked my tongue at the price of the book I needed for class.
Every time the professor casually told us to bring in a philosophy book costing at least thirty thousand won, I regretted taking the entrance exam and enrolling just because the orphanage had told me I'd receive financial assistance if I went to college.
Either that, or I wanted to bury the professor in the ground, like in that meme floating around online.
When I'd complained before that he was making us buy books too often, he'd asked if I was some beggar who didn't even have thirty thousand won.
“Fucking asshole” practically came out on its own.
You buy one book, then another, then another—how the hell is that thirty thousand won? The man's a complete lunatic.
I'd never liked those philosophy professors in the first place.
They'd studied philosophy at Peking University. They'd studied abroad in Germany. We needed to study abroad, too.
They said it all so casually, like it was easy.
They were just guys from well-off families who'd earned their doctorates with full bellies and warm beds.
I'm the fucking idiot who had mediocre scores and picked philosophy over Arabic. A complete fucking idiot.
I left the bookstore and headed for a shabby used bookstore I'd noticed while passing by before. I had no money, and I really didn't want to pay full price.
Looking on the bright side, this was near campus. Couldn't someone who'd taken the same class have bought that book, decided the money was too much to waste, and sold it to a used bookstore once the course was over?
That was how I ended up in a dusty old bookshop with a shabby exterior, run by an old man in glasses.
'... Places like this still exist. It's actually refreshing.'
One look told me there was no chance they had a computer for searching their inventory, so the moment I stepped inside, I asked the old man sitting at the counter.
“Do you have a book called Blah Blah Philosophy Book?”
“Look over there. If it's not there, we don't have it.”
“...”
... Well, sure. If they didn't have it, they didn't have it. He wasn't wrong.
I went to the shelves he'd pointed out, visibly packed with thick volumes, and looked for the book. They seemed to be a dumping ground for all sorts of books.
<The Eighth Book of Moses>, <The Book of the Angel Raziel>, <The Lesser Key of Solomon>
Moses? Angels? Were there religious books mixed in here, too?
Here and there, I spotted books with intriguing titles. Then one of the books on the shelf caught my eye.
It was far too much steel to be called a book.
“... What is this?”
Without thinking, I pulled out the lump of iron that occupied its place on the shelf so proudly. Cold metal pressed against my palm.
Given that it was on a bookshelf, it was a book, too—but one with a cover made of dark iron.
An iron book cover. Was it some special hardcover edition?
'... What kind of book is it? What's the title?'
<De Vermis Mysteriis>
And the moment Yohan tried to read the title engraved on the iron cover, the letters rippled and changed into Korean.
<Mysteries of the Worm>
'Mysteries of the Worm? Did Fabre write it?'
Curious, I opened the book and skimmed it. Despite its title, it wasn't an insect guide.
A book of magic tricks? No, “grimoire” was probably the right word.
Anyway, it was that sort of occult book.
It described ways to perform magic, such as summoning spirits and necromancy. The contents were absurd, but fun to read.
'... This medieval magic lore book is pretty entertaining.'
At least it was more entertaining than a philosophy book. Considering that neither had much relevance to everyday life, the grimoire won by at least being fun.
Thinking I might give it a proper read, I flipped to the introduction at the beginning. There was a passage written by someone who appeared to be the author.
[As a survivor of the Ninth Crusade and a seeker of magic, I have written this book about the magic I learned during my captivity in Damascus.
Whoever becomes the owner of the grimoire 'Mysteries of the Worm' becomes the master of the 'Invisible Vampire,' a familiar rivaling the 'Unseen Monster' said to have served the mad poet Abdul Alhazred.]
I couldn't help laughing.
An invisible vampire? What was this, Invisible Dragon...?
Still, it had succeeded in catching the reader's attention. Mine, at least.
Of course, I didn't believe any of it. I wasn't that young anymore, and even if I were, I wouldn't believe it.
I felt awkward about standing there reading any longer, so I took the book to the counter.
I was buying a book simply because it interested me, because it looked fun. It was a perfectly ordinary thing to do, but one I'd rarely done before.
Back at the orphanage, I'd had no money to buy books of my own. Now, I only bought books I needed for my major. Couldn't I buy a book I actually wanted once in a while?
The book for class? I'll just go without it. So sue me.
I set the book, which looked more like an iron ingot, on the counter.
THUD
“How much is this?”
“...?”
For a brief moment, the old shopkeeper squinted at the book with a look that said, 'Did I have a book like this?' Then he adjusted his glasses and spoke in a matter-of-fact voice.
“... If you brought it from those shelves, it's thirty thousand won.”
I'd expected as much, given the unusual iron cover, but it was expensive for a used book.
Still, it was four thousand won cheaper than the textbook I'd originally planned to buy.
“Do you only take cash? Can I do a bank transfer?”
“... We take cards.”
Despite the shop's shabby exterior and atmosphere, I could pay by card.
I didn't bother buying a bag.
It was dark outside when I left the used bookstore. The sun set early, probably because it was winter.
'Let's go home and eat.'
Since I'd saved four thousand won, maybe I'd buy a can of tuna on the way.
Hunching against the chilly air, I walked down the nighttime street with the book tucked under one arm.
Then someone grabbed my upper arm and shoved me aside as he passed.
I'd been walking with my body relaxed when I was suddenly pushed sideways. I stared after the guy who'd shoved me despite all the room on the street, then strolled coolly past with a woman at his side.
It was so ridiculous I wasn't even angry. Just dumbfounded.
'Look at this fucker acting all badass in front of a woman. Drop dead on your way.'
Let me defend myself here: I'm not some lunatic who genuinely wants someone to die just because they suddenly shoved me a little.
Come on, hasn't everyone experienced this? You have an unpleasant run-in with someone, and at least once, you think you wish they'd die.
Wishing they'd die is just an exaggerated expression. It's not a murderous desire to actually kill them yourself. It's more like hoping they trip over a rock while walking down the street.
... So I really hadn't wanted that show-off, who'd tried to impress his girlfriend by boldly clearing his own path, to die a gruesome death with his guts splattered everywhere.
“Aaaaaaah—!”
“Uaaaaaagh—!”
A shrill scream of shock rang out alongside a scream drawn out by pain spreading through a body whose owner didn't understand what was happening.
The man's body rose into the air like an animal subdued by a wolf's jaws around its throat. Blood streamed down from his neck, his legs swinging unnaturally in midair.
“Aaaaaaagh—!”
Unable to understand what was happening, the man screamed and flailed his arms in a struggle to survive. He was trying desperately to push away whatever had done this to him. But—
RIP
“A—aaaaaagh?!”
Perhaps his movements had annoyed the 'something' doing this to him. One of his arms was torn off, exposing bone and red flesh as blood sprayed everywhere.
“Huaaagh—!”
A chunk of flesh tore free from his neck, and his body fell to the ground. Despite losing part of his throat, he wasn't dead.
“Uh—aaaaaaaah!”
Blood poured from his neck, and he already looked beyond saving. Still, he screamed and tried to get up and flee, desperate to survive. But the loss of his arm threw off his balance, and he couldn't stand.
... Then the slaughter by 'something unseen' began.
As though showing off, it split the man's body open, scattering blood, guts, and organs in every direction.
That was when I came to my senses.
Not that I was in my right mind...
But I regained control of the body that had frozen, numb with terror, at the utterly unreal scene.
I immediately turned and ran. Fled.
I didn't scream. I needed to save the air in my lungs.
Was it because I'd gone beyond the limits of fear? Instead of panicking, my terrified body moved to survive.
I didn't take out my phone and film it like someone else nearby.
I could be the next prey. I had no time for that. I needed to get as far from this place as possible. That was my only thought as I drove my legs forward.
I ran to my limit, until I was out of breath, then ducked into an alley. Breathing raggedly, I dry-heaved and spat out the saliva pooling in my mouth.
“Hah... Hah... H urgh—ptoo.”
My legs shook, and the cold air stabbed painfully at my lungs. To make matters worse, I'd been carrying that book that was practically an iron ingot, so my right arm felt heavy, too.
“Whew...”
But just as I let out a relieved breath, thinking I was safe for the moment—
STEP
The presence behind me sent goosebumps rising over my skin. I trembled, my teeth chattering.
'... It followed me.'
It had followed me here.
With shaking hands, I gripped the book tightly, feeling its cold metal.
It was too late to run anyway. Fighting back would be pointless, but I wasn't going to just let it kill me.
I'd at least smack it once with the iron corner.
“...”
Slowly, I turned around. There was nothing there. Just an ordinary alley.
But...
“Kraaah...”
Along with an animal cry, hot air carrying the sickening smell of blood washed over my face.
There was definitely an invisible 'something' there.
My stomach churned. I felt like I was about to throw up.
“Hah—hah—!”
My heart hammered like mad, and my pupils widened. The image of the brutally murdered man flashed through my mind.
An unnerving, sticky sensation moved along my cheek.
“—!”
That something licked my face.
“Grrrr~.”
“Huh...?”
Once, twice—it licked my face like a big, gentle puppy playing with its owner, then stopped and patiently waited for my reaction.
“Kyaa~?”
Unable to make sense of the situation, I went limp, and the book slipped from my hands.
THUD
Whether by chance or to remind me of the truth once more—
FLUTTER
The grimoire's pages turned, and it fell open.
[Whoever becomes the owner of the grimoire 'Mysteries of the Worm' becomes the master of the 'Invisible Vampire,' a familiar rivaling the 'Unseen Monster' said to have served the mad poet Abdul Alhazred.]
I couldn't laugh anymore.