Chapter 49

Among the methods of torturing people, there is one called the “white room torture.” It involves locking someone in a room where everything—white walls, white ceiling, white bed, and even white fluorescent lights—is covered in white. It’s said that if you lock someone in here, their sense of self and sanity will slowly begin to shatter.

Why am I rambling about such nonsense? Because I’m currently undergoing that very torture.

No matter how much I pound or hit the walls, there’s not even a hint of movement. It’s said that this torture was first implemented in Iran. They used it on journalists who opposed their regime. I wonder what grudge these damn bastards have against me to do something like this.

Then, a familiar voice came from behind.

“Quite the spectacle you’re making.”

I turned around, wondering who the hell dared to spout such nonsense.

For a moment, I thought I was looking in a mirror. Standing there was none other than Werner. So, this bastard is still alive.

Could it be… that he’s here to punish me for taking over his body and embracing Glacia? Is he here to judge me for NTR? Well, those who attempt NTR should indeed have their limbs chopped off and thrown into a dung heap.

But thinking about it, it’s a bit unfair. NTR only applies when you take someone else’s woman, but Werner is the one who abandoned Glacia in the first place. Now he’s throwing a fit because he regrets it? “I don’t want it, but I don’t want anyone else to have it either”? This bastard’s mindset is as trashy as those who commit NTR.

Trash should be taken out by those who see it, and trashy bastards should be beaten by those who see them. I swung my fist at Werner.

But Werner easily blocked my punch with a single finger. What kind of sorcerer has such physical strength?

“Shut up. The noise in your head is loud enough for me to hear too. You’re not crazy, but with all those thoughts, I can tell how messed up your mind is.”

Is he trying to read my mind like some kind of psychic?

“Another strange thought, huh? You’re really annoying and irritating.”

Werner sighed, scratching his long hair. His expression screamed, “The world is rotten, so I’ll live my own way.” No doubt, it’s Werner himself. I thought maybe a konjac man was impersonating him, but it seems like it’s really him.

Werner stared at me for a moment before speaking.

“Do you really think you’ve become that kind of person by entertaining such frivolous thoughts?”

“…What?”

“You know, the type who pretends to know everything despite being ignorant, or acts cheerful despite having a gloomy personality, or flaunts borrowed manners and culture despite being vulgar.”

“Enough.”

“Aren’t you one of those? Pretending to be someone who entertains such frivolous thoughts, pretending to be cheerful… and actually believing you are.”

“You damn bastard.”

I broke Werner’s arm, which was blocking my punch, and grabbed his neck, slamming him to the ground. I never wanted to use those techniques again, but this bastard crossed the line.

“Why are you like this? You, who have no name given by your parents.”

“You’re no different, you bastard.”

“Yeah, both of us were given names in the ‘facility.'”

“How much do you know, you damn bastard?”

Most people who knew about my childhood are dead. Well, most of them were killed by me, so there’s no way Werner could know. Wait, how could a mere game character know…

“You know me too… so it’s only fair that I know you.”

“Shut up, you short-lived bastard.”

“Why should I? Number 204.”

“You damn bastard…”

This guy really knows everything.

Werner clapped his hands and teleported behind me again. Well, not teleportation, but a complex magic that involves breaking down his body into mana particles and reconstructing it wherever he wants.

I glared at Werner, and he glared back at me.

“Your old identification number was 204, and you named yourself Bai, with your Akashic Magician Record ID as whitesnake204? I envy your simplicity.”

“You bastard who died because you liked a married woman.”

“And the girl you liked was number 200, so you named her Yibai? Maybe you should work on your naming sense.”

“You bastard who trampled on the feelings of the girl who liked you, nailed your siblings’ hearts, and died because you liked a married woman.”

“And living as a shut-in, truly pathetic.”

“You bastard who liked a married woman, trampled on the feelings of the girl who liked you, nailed your siblings’ hearts, and died because of it.”

Countless invisible arrows pierced both Werner and me. War is harmful to both sides, and this kind of attrition only brings loss to both.

Werner frowned and sighed. This guy really has a nasty personality.

“Let’s stop… this is just spitting on our own faces.”

“What are you talking about? Spitting on our own faces? Unlike you, I’m not a virgin anymore.”

What kind of virgin bastard is comparing himself to me? I’m a man who shared purity with a beauty like Glacia. Look at this coward trying to call it a draw. This is why I hate gamblers.

“That’s not what I mean… I’m saying we both share the same soul.”

“But the soul of a virgin and a man are different.”

“Sigh… So, you’re my reincarnation.”

“What?”

I always believed I was the reincarnation of some great figure, but I’m the reincarnation of this nasty sorcerer? No man would believe that so easily.

“You’re lying.”

“If it’s not a lie, how else can I explain knowing your life so well?”

“Thinking about it, that’s true.”

I guess I am your reincarnation. If I were the reincarnation of a sorcerer, I should be able to use magic in the real world… With that power, I could become the god of a new world. What’s the point of telling me now, you damn virgin bastard.

“In your world, you can’t use magic, so stop with the delusions.”

God of a new world? What nonsense. That would just lead to a lifetime of suffering as a human organ. It’s much more fun and beneficial to live as a department store owner.

Werner pulled out something that looked like a cigar and started smoking it. But no matter how much I sniffed, it didn’t smell like tobacco or a cigar. So… this bastard… was he a genius sorcerer who got high?

“It’s just a pain-relieving herb, so don’t get the wrong idea.”

But did this guy smoke in the original story? In the first part, he was young, but in the second part, I never saw him smoke. He wouldn’t have smoked near Airi, right? Secondhand smoke is an unforgivable enemy.

“Would I smoke near my disciple? I quit after taking care of Airi, so stop with the strange thoughts.”

“Oh, I see.”

I misunderstood. Secondhand smoke is an evil that should never be tolerated, so the great Archmage Werner, who upholds justice, would never do such a thing.

But damn, he took care of Airi when he was 17, so he quit then?

“I started smoking at 14. Drinking too.”

The great Archmage, my ass. A minor bastard who drank and smoked, doing all the things a delinquent would do. I’m truly disappointed.

“Why did you start? Did you think the world was full of idiots and you were the only smart one?”

Typical symptoms of middle school syndrome, all of which can be cured.

“No… I told you, it was for pain relief. Drinking too.”

“What?”

“You know, right? The pain has subsided now, but back then, it was excruciating.”

Oh, that story.

“Your mana circuits were all shattered?”

“Yeah, back then, every day was agony. So, I had no choice but to resort to that.”

They never mentioned that in the story, probably because smoking and drinking issues would have caused problems with the ratings. This guy is truly a saint among saints. His attitude is so annoying I want to punch him.

Werner, whose mana circuits were shattered, had difficulty using great magic in the second part. Among those circuits, the one that acted like a coolant in a machine was completely non-functional. But it was only briefly mentioned, so I didn’t know the details. It was just a passing mention that he got injured while saving Airi.

After finishing his cigar, Werner quietly began his story.

“So, where should I start? It’s fine to skip the real childhood part, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about a man’s childhood either.”

Skipping the prologue is a virtue.