Chapter 29 - Master of the Grimoire (1)

After the unexpected events at Weekend Farm, where he had gone merely to get some parchment, Yohan returned to his small studio apartment exhausted. He washed with warm water and lay straight down on the bed.

“Ah... I'm worn out.”

Maybe it was because all his tension had drained away at once now that he was home, somewhere he could rest. He wanted to fall asleep just like this, but...

“...”

He had to eat dinner. Going to bed without eating would be bad for his health.

I hauled my exhausted body up and rummaged around the kitchen for something to eat. But although my body was tired...

'... Is it because I saw so many corpses today? I have no appetite.'

The piles of corpses Grizzly had torn apart on my orders flashed through my mind. I really hated grotesque stuff. It killed my appetite. It wasn't good for my mental health, either.

After killing dozens of people, complaining that the disgusting sights had spoiled my appetite might be a bit much. But what could I do? They were dead, and I was alive. As long as I lived, there was no escaping eating and sleeping.

'When it's cold, you get cold. When you starve, you get hungry. Fucking sucks.'

After a moment's thought, I took some noodles out of the cupboard.

“Hmm... Should I have soy-sauce noodles?”

They weren't substantial enough for my liking, but they weren't bad when I had no appetite.

I filled a pot with water and put on a song on my phone while I waited for it to boil.

Green Day - Bang Bang.

DA-DA-DUM~ DA-DA-DUM~ DUM-DUM-DUM~!

I get my kicks and I wanna start a rager.

(I want to raise hell and let my anger out.)

Listening to the ringing guitar and the song, I made a dipping sauce for the noodles. Calling it “making” something didn't mean it was complicated. It was incredibly simple: mix the Japanese soy-sauce base, tsuyu, I'd bought at the supermarket with water in a 1:1 ratio, then add sliced Cheongyang chilies. That was it.

Now all I had to do was put the noodles in the boiling water and amuse myself by humming while they cooked.

“Bang, bang, give me~ fame.”

'Bang, bang, make me~ famous.'

A grown man swaying to the rhythm and humming to himself might look ridiculous, but...

“I am a semi-automatic~ lonely~ boy!”

'I'm a semi-automatic~ lonely~ man!'

I was amusing myself alone in my own home. What else was I supposed to do for fun? This was how I entertained myself.

“You're dead, I'm well fed.”

You're dead, and I'm eating well and living well.

“Give me death or give me head.”

Kill me or die.

“Daddy's little psycho and mommy's little soldier~!”

Daddy's little psychopath and mommy's little soldier.

Perhaps my humming had woken Grizzly, who had been sleeping in the grimoire. It came out.

“Gyaa?”

It swayed its head from side to side and hummed along with me.

“Gya-gya-gya~ gya-gya~ gya-gya-gya-gya-gya~.”

I couldn't help bursting into laughter at the completely unexpected duet.

“Pahaha~ You're a better singer than me.”

I stroked Grizzly's head and gave it a scratch.

“Prrrr~.”

“Want something to eat now that you're up?”

“Gyaa~!”

Right, we might as well eat together. I took meat and milk out of the refrigerator and prepared Grizzly's meal.

The noodles were cooked too, so I turned off the heat, scooped them out with a strainer, and rinsed them in cold water. Once they were cold enough, the soy-sauce noodles were ready. Technically, they were noodles you dipped in soy sauce. Anyway, the cool noodles and the moderately salty, spicy sauce went down easily when I had no appetite.

We tucked into our food. As I ate, my appetite started returning. Was it because I finally had food in my stomach? Or because Grizzly was eating so heartily? I opened a pack of flat-iron beef (relatively cheap, at least) that I'd bought for myself while shopping for Grizzly's food and put it in a frying pan.

SIZZLE...

I ate it as soon as it was cooked. ... Beef really was a cheat code. You could simply grill it without any special preparation and dip it in Cham Sauce or sesame oil and salt, and it still tasted good.

In the end, I had carbohydrates and protein. I ate cherry tomatoes for dessert to balance out the nutrients, rounding off a pretty decent dinner. I went to bed early to digest my food and recover my strength.

... Then, the next day.

I took the things I'd collected from Kim Miryeo's underground workshop out of my bag and laid them out on the floor.

I'd been mentally exhausted yesterday and put this off until today. Now it was time to inspect the spoils. First, I checked the bundle of parchment: seven sheets taken from Kim Miryeo's private workshop.

Considering I'd visited the farm because I needed sheepskin to make parchment, getting finished parchment made by a magician was a major haul. With this, I could finally make a pentacle.

Then came the second piece of loot. I examined the semiautomatic pistol I'd picked up because there were so many lying around the underground corridors. I didn't know much about firearms, but even I recognized this one. It was the pistol that appeared most often in movies and other media: a Glock 17.

It had belonged to one of the farm employees Grizzly had killed. Perhaps he'd died before firing it, because all seventeen rounds were still in the magazine.

“...”

I stared at the blunt, black pistol. I'd taken it myself, but the sight of that unmistakable handgun... immediately brought an incredulous smile to my face.

Accidental death caused by negligent management of a familiar... or a pet, for simplicity's sake. Serial murder, concealment of crimes, and illegal possession of a firearm. How long had I even been a magician?

“... That's one hell of a criminal record.”

Still, I'd taken it because I thought I might need it. I picked up the gun and held it, testing its weight.

'It's light, but heftier than I expected.'

Weekend Farm had driven the lesson home again: in this world, you truly never knew what might happen. Now that I knew I could summon the grimoire even when we were apart, I could summon Grizzly in a dangerous situation. Even so, I needed at least something to protect myself with in an emergency.

Of course, it was still a gun. Once I fired it, the noise would make it hard to conceal what I'd done, and being caught with it would put me in a dangerous position.

“Hmm...”

My eyes narrowed as I recalled the special breathing technique Sion had demonstrated.

The best form of self-defense would be to learn “martial arts” that increased my physical abilities, even temporarily... But I had no way to learn them right now. There was nothing I could do.

I'd exchanged contact information with Sion, so I could swallow my pride and ask her to teach me. But getting involved with the Special Response Section frequently, for any reason, wouldn't help me hide my crimes. It wasn't a good option. ... So I would look into martial arts gradually, just as I was looking for a shop selling magical supplies.

Returning to the gun problem, I looked at the Glock.

'So how do I carry this around?'

I turned my head slightly and looked at the white coat hanging on the wall.

“... Just put it in the inside pocket?”

Typical guy behavior: if a laptop fits in a pocket, he'll shove a laptop in there too. Only fashion models worried about putting things in their pockets. Otherwise, it was just personal preference.

I got up and fiddled with the inside of the coat. It might be better to attach a separate pistol pocket inside it. Good. That was enough about the gun for now. I returned to my spot and inspected the last piece of loot.

It was Kim Miryeo's blood-soaked hair in a plastic ziplock bag. I'd taken it because I needed a possession or a body part belonging to the spirit I wanted to summon.

I picked up <The Lesser Key of Solomon> and read the procedure for a spirit-summoning ritual—summoning memory data preserved after death. First, I needed to prepare a suitable location for the ritual: an unoccupied abandoned house, a forest, a lakeshore, a cave, a garden, or a crossroads at night.

“Hmm?”

I could accept the other locations, but why a crossroads? Reading further, I learned that because you could go in any direction from a crossroads, it was also connected to the world of the dead in a magical sense. That made a crossroads at night the best place for a spirit-summoning ritual.

Anyway, if I couldn't arrange a place like that, apparently a magician's workshop would also do. I glanced around my small studio apartment. Could my room count as a magician's workshop?

Even so, with the bed and furniture, there didn't seem to be quite enough space to draw the magic circle the ritual required. Could I draw it smaller while keeping the proportions? As I read <The Lesser Key of Solomon> with these thoughts in mind...

VMMMM... VMMMM...

<Mysteries of the Worm>, which I'd left on the desk, began vibrating and whining again. Normally, I would have ignored it without a second thought... But I put The Lesser Key of Solomon down on the desk and looked at <Mysteries of the Worm>, rubbing my chin.

I'd suspected it for a while, but seeing <Mysteries of the Worm> tear apart <Cultes des Goules> while I was reading it had convinced me. These grimoires had some degree of self-awareness? Will? Preferences. Were they like sentient swords in fantasy stories? They probably had situations they liked and situations they didn't.

“...”

An incredibly stupid idea flashed through my mind. And... there wasn't any particular reason not to try it. Sure, why not take a little break? This was the sort of thing you did for fun when you were alone.

VMMMM... VMMMM...

I approached the noisily whining <Mysteries of the Worm>, picked it up, and tossed it onto the bed. At this sudden act of violence, <Mysteries of the Worm> was about to vibrate fiercely, but a low, cold voice rang through the room.

“Shut up. Who do you think you're throwing a tantrum at?”

VMMMM...!?

I approached the bed, imitating the cold male leads on romance-fantasy covers I'd happened to see a few times. I'd only seen the covers, so was I even doing this right? Whatever, just go with it. I climbed onto the bed.

“Isn't this what you were hoping for when you came to me?”

I planted my hand on the bed beside <Mysteries of the Worm>, pressing down on the mattress.

“You lustful little grimoire.”

It was the bed version of pinning someone against a wall.

V-VMMMM...!

<Mysteries of the Worm> vibrated as if insisting it wasn't that kind of vulgar grimoire. But I looked down at the faintly trembling book and spoke in a low voice.

“So why don't you stop playing hard to get?”

I gently stroked its smooth iron cover.

“... Show me everything.”

I leaned down and whispered to <Mysteries of the Worm> as though whispering in its ear.

“I'll make you forget your previous masters ever existed.”

... That was my limit.

'Pfft... Forget they ever existed? What the fuck...'

I'd said it myself, but it was so ridiculous I felt ready to burst out laughing. Ah~ That was fun.

Then, just as I straightened up...

“Huh?”

V-VMMMMMM...

The dark iron cover of <Mysteries of the Worm> flushed red like metal heated in a fire.

FLIP-FLIP-FLIP-FLIP!

The book opened, its pages turning rapidly. The letters on pages that had been written in an incomprehensible language until now writhed and transformed into a language I could understand.

I blinked and looked down at <Mysteries of the Worm>. No... I'd done that purely, one hundred percent as a joke, so now that it really was showing me everything, I was the one left flustered.

... Meanwhile, on the desk, <The Lesser Key of Solomon> started to flutter its pages slightly, then quietly closed them again and regarded <Mysteries of the Worm> with contempt.