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Experiment.

The word that came from the mouth of a seemingly polite person had a rather ominous feel to it.

However, none of those present pointed out the word’s unsettling nature.

Maurice, who had spoken the word first, didn’t offer any excuses, and neither the Shinto priest wearing a fox mask nor Jinseong showed any resistance to the term “experiment,” merely gazing at Maurice.

“What kind of experiment is it?”

“Oh, the experiment is… hmm.”

Maurice pondered over the question of what the experiment was and turned to Jinseong. With a sly grin, he slowly opened his mouth.

“It can be said that it concerns Jinseong Park.”

“Are you referring to that?”

“Yes, indeed. If Jinseong Park belongs to this Korea, then it must undoubtedly be relevant.”

Saying this, he reached into his pocket. From a thin, small bag, he pulled out something very familiar to Jinseong.

A tablet.

A rather famous brand, too.

With practiced movements, Maurice turned on the tablet, searched for a photo, and then displayed something on the screen for Jinseong and the Shinto priest to see.

“Hmm.”

On the tablet, an image appeared that could be found in old Eastern texts—a rough, aged illustration.

It was so worn and discolored that it was hard to tell if it was made of paper from a paper mulberry tree, animal skin, or painted on cloth; the ink used for the drawing was blurred and missing in places, hinting that it had weathered many years.

Moreover, perhaps due to an accidental shot while capturing the picture, shadows obscured parts of the image, and backlight or light glare was evident, making it nearly impossible to appreciate the essence of the illustration.

It didn’t stop there.

The picture wasn’t sharp, nor was it clear; it was all rather vague.

You could get a rough idea of what it was like, and that was about it.

For research purposes, it could be deemed highly inadequate material.

Yet, despite that, the photo had value.

Even with its poor quality, the original being old and worn.

Still, the photo clearly held value.

At least in this moment.

For the shamans gathered here.

“The Skull Tower, huh?”

The Skull Tower.

An illustration depicting a tower built by stacking human skulls.

“Yes, that’s right. It is believed to be a divine object constructed by Goguryeo in ancient times.”

* * *

『 … The people living in the Central Plains had a bizarre custom known as Jinguan and Gyeongsal. They reveled in killing and stacking people, using it to create structures and celebrate victories. The forms of this custom varied by era and country; some waited for bodies to rot before stacking them, while others removed the flesh and stacked them as bones.

The most common was covering corpses with dirt to make a tower, on which they would perform rituals to commemorate victories. 』

『 Using enemy corpses to build towers is called Jinguan, while displaying corpses of killed prisoners is Gyeongsal. Jinguan instills fear in enemies, and Gyeongsal effectively prevents prisoners from futile resistance.

However, over time, these acts began to dwindle. Creating Jinguan towers became more common, yet the brutality of Gyeongsal faded, replaced by simply burying and killing instead. This custom completely vanished with the rise of the Qing. 』

* * *

“The act of stacking human corpses can surprisingly be found all over the world. It is an effective method to evoke primitive fear and can also serve as a means to boast of one’s achievements. Moreover, whether intentional or not, piles of corpses will occur. Unable to bury each body individually, they tend to be collected or stacked in one place, leading to their natural formation.”

Maurice’s eyes sparkled.

“But to what extent does that become a ritual or custom? Most of the time, it’s merely an event sparked by the madness of battle. Piling up to this extent and flaunting it is… quite rare indeed, especially on a nation-wide scale.”

Maurice paused for a moment before continuing.

“Perhaps the ancient people of East Asia realized that building towers from corpses was a good means to defeat enemies and control prisoners. At least, seeing a tower built from countless people would surely evoke feelings of fear.”

“That might be true. Just seeing a single corpse frightens most people; witnessing a tower or hill made from countless corpses would definitely invoke terror. Perhaps, overcome by that fear, one might even become a loyal slave.”

“Hahaha. That’s exactly what I mean.”

He smiled as Jinseong appeared intrigued.

“In fact, China actively engaged in the practice of building towers from corpses. They unified the land known as ‘Zhongyuan,’ expelled foreign tribes, and used captured prisoners as slaves… They effectively employed this brutal act.”

“Mm.”

“However, regrettably, this cruelty isn’t unique to China. Among those labeled ‘barbarians’ by China, many exhibited even greater cruelty, and during periods of fragmentation, other nations emerged as dominant powers in East Asia.”

The Xiongnu were one such example, as were the Khitan.

They displayed their unfiltered brutality, repeatedly massacring Chinese people and constructing Jinguan using their corpses; some even earned historical recognition for their enormous scale.

“I’ve heard that the Golu Tower (骷髏臺) created by the Xiongnu was truly impressive. Its meaning translates to ‘tower made of bones’… I can’t even imagine how many people had to be killed and materials used to earn such a name. I have to consider the uniqueness of Eastern exaggeration, but still… if they were using the term ‘tower,’ it must have been of considerable size.”

Maurice trailed off again and looked back at Jinseong.

“And Goguryeo was much the same. They fought against the Sui Dynasty, killed countless soldiers, and supposedly used those soldiers as materials to build towers.”

He pointed to the tablet with his finger.

“In precisely this manner.”

An aged illustration.

Once again, it looked entirely unimpressive.

But even though nothing had changed since earlier, did it feel oddly different this time, or was that merely an illusion?

The image displayed on the tablet seemed to carry an odd madness.

“They said it was erected along the riverbanks, and its grandeur was truly astonishing. According to records, they invaded with over 1.1 million soldiers… It’s no wonder it was so impressive. With that many materials, how could it not be grand?”

Clink.

Maurice clasped his hands, recalling the ancient white skull tower, and as he did, his rings and bracelets clinked, making a metallic sound.

“The Bone Tower, huh… You seem to have a keen interest in fascinating subjects.”

“Haha. Indeed.”

Maurice looked at Jinseong and the Shinto priest while holding the tablet close.

“I am a person who explores death. I constantly seek answers about the existence of death and the world after it, roaming the earth in search of these solutions. Through this process, I naturally found myself drawn to certain interests.”

Clink.

“A structure made from the materials of human death.”

Clink.

“A structure made with death as its material reveals countless insights. You can see the wisdom of humans using death, the very essence of the unknown and fear, as a ‘tool,’ and explore how myths and legends passed down through different cultures evolved when meeting the theme of death, and gain understanding of each culture’s perception of death and the afterlife.”

Maurice continued to clink his rings and bracelet.

Like a malevolent spirit making rhythmic sounds to enchant the living.

As if mimicking the actions of a malevolent spirit, Maurice repeated his strange behavior.

“What, then, are the materials of that death? The answer is simple. Everything left behind by a living being once it dies signifies death, doesn’t it? Human skin, bones. The remnants left after they have decayed and perished are indeed the materials for death.”

Clink clink.

The rings collide.

The bracelets clink against each other.

Rusty chains and tarnished metal.

They hit and hit again, creating sounds.

Like coins held in the mouth of the dead falling to the ground, producing transient metallic sounds, like treasures scattered across a skeletal body, echoing into the night sky.

Maurice laughed, producing sounds reminiscent of the deceased.

Not like a living person, but with an eerie sensation that lingered.

 

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