“Graaaah! Th-that’s not it!”
Even amidst the painful screams, the guy continued talking.
If he didn’t finish his sentence before the execution, the anguish would continue unabated.
Writhing in pain, he struggled to continue his words.
“I-I just haven’t seen you talk to anyone else your age!”
“Ah, that? Well…”
At that perfectly reasonable question, I reluctantly removed my hands that had been holding my body and neck lazily.
I thought I might finally see the stuffing of a doll flowing out, but it turned out to be disappointing.
The reason for not talking to kids my age.
Isn’t it obvious?
“I can’t say anything unless we understand each other.”
Kids, especially those first graders who are untouched by the filth of the world.
Even if it’s a conversation, boys will only ask what games they’re playing on their smartphones, or suggest to play together.
Girls will start conversations with questions about what manga is currently popular.
At least, if Shiyeon enjoyed a magical girl anime, we could have a fun chat…
‘But that’s not me.’
I kicked a small pebble at my feet with all my strength while mumbling inwardly.
Tap, tap. The rolling pebble quickly lost its momentum.
Favorite game preference?
A long-level RPG with a time sink that I can’t play due to age restrictions.
Favorite anime?
A pure fantasy series that kids wouldn’t understand.
Hobby?
Researching torture methods for monsters.
With that, how could we communicate?
It would be better to grab a school teacher and have a 30-minute debate about the reality of magical girls; at least that would be more coherent.
“How about trying to find hobbies similar to your peers! Like playing tag or soccer….”
“Ugh, no way!”
The suggestion from Gomtaengi, as if he had come up with a brilliant idea, was immediately dismissed with disdain.
Having his carefully thought-out plan crushed in less than a second, Gomtaengi’s downcast hands drooped toward the floor.
That dumbfounded expression was surprisingly pleasant.
The next question from Gomtaengi.
“…How on earth did you become such an elementary student?”
“A gap from my parents. Endless exposure to malevolence in communities. Thanks to news that never has a quiet day.”
“…Normally, don’t people say that’s the reason?”
Ignoring Gomtaengi, who was trying to nitpick after I answered correctly, I made my way home early, a step ahead of Shiyeon.
Not that I had anything in particular to do, but it was an old habit to turn on the computer.
Perhaps I was an old-timer after all; the keyboard and mouse of the computer felt much more comfortable than a smartphone.
“Wait, is the community really that toxic?”
“Huh?”
While sitting in a chair and watching videos of Nickel vs. water, Gomtaengi asked me with a hint of lingering doubt.
Thinking about it, he had only seen me use a smartphone from the side… he probably hadn’t actually used one himself.
I pressed the buttons on the smartphone, opened the magical girl gallery among the many websites, and handed it to him.
“Take a look.”
“Oh, thanks…”
Gomtaengi accepted the brightly lit smartphone, bowing his upper body.
He headed into the plush basket where the mascot would usually be, laying down like a person and started tapping the screen.
It seemed he could indeed touch it with those doll-like hands.
Is that a special material? It wouldn’t respond normally unless it was a coated glove or something.
“Oh right. Try not to look at the latest posts too much, okay?”
This was advice to shield against potential tactical nuclear fallout.
He tilted his head in confusion, questioning my warning.
“Huh? Why’s that…”
“If I tell you, you’ll understand, you idiot.”
Since it was a bother to explain while watching the video, I just brushed it off.
After staring at the phone for a long time, once he caught onto a topic trending in the gallery, he spoke up over the video sounds.
“Wow, you’re famous in this gallery, huh?”
“Someone must have taken a picture of my face without a mask during a meetup; is it still causing a fuss?”
As I leaned against the chair and looked at him, he was completely engrossed in the smartphone and didn’t even think to glance my way.
“Should I read the title for you?”
“No.”
“I’m looking at the comments. What’s this ‘deulbak’?”
“An abbreviation; knowing it could hurt you.”
The implication behind “could hurt you” was that I didn’t want to help.
Gomtaengi immediately grasped that hidden meaning, stopped asking questions, and focused back on the smartphone.
The term deulbak in the magical girl gallery?
That filthy meaning was something I couldn’t possibly express with my little mouth.
“…Mary.”
As the algorithm, triggered by Nickel’s video, reached a comparison video of grocery store sushi, Gomtaengi called me again with a voice that sounded completely drained.
Seeing as it didn’t appear to be because of the monster, I casually leaned on the backrest, turning to him as I asked.
“What is it?”
“…When people wear the mask of anonymity, they become filthy and vile.”
With his once-bright eyes now dull, he continued scrolling down the bright screen.
It seemed he had caught a glimpse of what human malevolence was.
Feeling a sense of unity having formed with Gomtaengi, I smiled and said proudly, “Right?”
While searching for something to do on the computer, memories from the past flickered back as I recalled games I could easily download and play.
There were games you could play anywhere just by downloading them from places like blogs.
Though they were called classic games, they might be worth more than just watching videos for passing time.
Classic games, old games…
As I pondered what there might be, something suddenly struck me.
“Oh, I just remembered something.”
The goal of the game was to completely trash the amusement park, take out loans, and dump enraged guests into the water with a claw.
The game where you derail the guests on rides and blow them up beyond the rails.
Thinking of that game where you could indulge in the brutality of a more innocent time, I began searching for it right away.
“Amusement Park… Management 2.”
Seeing materials from ten years ago scattered like a mountain made my mouth water.
In retrospect, after being exposed to various online games, I hadn’t bothered to seek out such classic games.
By around middle school, I would probably be pouring my time into online games, so for now, I decided to hydrate my thirst for games with these.
Compared to old computers, downloading and installing was a much faster speed.
While listening to the familiar background music that I might not have heard in years, the sound of the audience’s joyous screams, even if distorted, sounded nostalgic.
“This is it.”
“Graaaah-!”
“? What’s that?”
I wondered if such realistic agony had an effect sound, leaning closer to the speakers.
Upon listening closely, the source of the sound was not the speakers.
At the end of my wandering gaze to find the source of the sound, I spotted Gomtaengi, who seemed to be writhing in agony as if his mind had been tainted, burying his face in his hands.
“I thought it was just a sound from the computer.”
I wondered what had caused him to suddenly act that way, and guessed he had stumbled upon something that warranted a real scream.
As those ominous thoughts approached reality, I clicked my tongue and shook my head.
“Tch, tch, tch.”
The unbearable desire to do what one is told not to do is the true nature of intelligent beings.
“You foolish being, it’s because you take advice as if it were nothing of value…”
Adding a few more words, I continued as if I were a sage that had grasped the world’s secrets.
I had repeatedly warned him not to covet the latest posts among the entire discourse.
Curiosity killed not just the cat, but the bear as well.
I suppose he could never have imagined the cost of that single touch to be so great.
“Th-this, th-this, th-this…”
Gomtaengi, unable to express his thoughts, was visibly distressed.
It had clearly left quite an impact on him.
Ignoring him while moving the mouse to select a target, I listened to his groans of anguish.
“D-dog, dog, dog-fucking bastards!”
Finally, the words that had been pent up within him burst forth.
“Wow, can a mascot say things like that?”
“No, no! How am I supposed to handle this!? Wow, this is really, wow.”
With trembling plush arms, he pointed at the screen, unable to continue his words as he glanced back at me.
“Ah, that’s what they mean by human ‘malice.’ Remember it well.”
In an animated tone, I shared that with him.
Ignoring everything else, I strapped the guests into the rollercoaster in the game.
Then, with maximum speed, I kicked off and caused a massive explosion.
Messages about ride malfunctions in bright red popped up on the screen.
Messages announcing the deaths of guests appeared consecutively eight times, letting me savor the madness of the past without holding back.
“I’m back!”
Not long after, the sound of a door indicated that Shiyeon had returned.
Clang, the sound of the door closing again.
The sea serpent mascot hanging from Shiyeon’s bag flew leisurely in the air and curled up in the plush basket.
“Did you arrive? Did you eat?”
Feeling a bit hungry as I walked from the chair to the entrance, I wondered if Shiyeon wouldn’t be hungry by this time and quickly asked.
“I ate with my friends!”
The reply was that she had already eaten.
I had expected a slight delay, but it seemed she had actually eaten.
“Then I guess it’s just me eating…”
Ordering one serving.
It’d been ages since I last seriously ordered what I really wanted.
Near the fallen Gomtaengi, who was completely out of it, lay my smartphone.
I opened my delivery app and ordered grilled pork belly—something I could rarely make in this state—and threw my smartphone onto the plush bed.
“Ugh…”
“Mary, why is the mascot like that?”
Seeing Gomtaengi making distressed sounds, Shiyeon innocently pointed at him and asked.
“Something happened, ah. I didn’t do anything?”
Since I couldn’t explain what had just happened to Shiyeon, I just vaguely brushed it off.
Do you know about Kunekune, the Japanese urban legend?
It’s said to be a kind of ghost that appears in quiet rural areas…
Something white that just writhes, which looks okay from a distance, but anyone who sees it up close and understands goes mad.
In that regard, it did seem to resonate a lot with Gomtaengi’s current situation.
“Die… filthy… trash…”
‘What are you saying?’
What I heard from him sounded like a curse, low and repetitive mutterings.
I leaned closer to listen and found that he was, in fact, uttering a curse.
He really had lost his mind.
This isn’t just a ghost story, it’s reality, right?
The Japanese urban legend Kunekune doesn’t dwell in peaceful rural fields.
It resides in the latest posts of the gallery.
