Chapter 55: The Puppeteer (2)
Moonlight seeped through the open door, illuminating the inside of the warehouse.
Hanging corpses dangled from the ceiling, and to one side was an operating table.
Beside it were surgical tools and various instruments.
The scene looked more like a laboratory or workshop than a warehouse.
The only sound that could be heard was heavy, labored breathing—huff, huff.
“Who... who are you?”
Oliver looked at him.
The man was surrounded by zombies, crudely stitched together like ragdolls.
Oliver instinctively realized that this man was Glyp, the Puppeteer, and greeted him politely.
"Hello."
"......."
Perhaps the greeting was inappropriate, as the man stared at Oliver with a mixture of discomfort and confusion.
Oliver observed him as well and soon understood why he had spoken through a puppet earlier.
The man was abnormally fat, so much so that his flesh overflowed like dough about to spill from its bowl.
It was a body type ill-suited for a dangerous battlefield, though Oliver himself was also far from the ideal warrior.
Oliver stood silently, watching Glyp until the Puppeteer finally spoke.
"You... what are you?"
"...? I'm Oliver. I explained that earlier, didn't I?"
"...Who's your master?"
"Excuse me? I already told you-"
"—Don’t lie!"
Glyp’s sagging cheeks shook as he shouted.
"I’ve never heard the name Joseph in Landa. You don’t even look that old, yet you controlled my puppet… Who’s your master?!"
Oliver remained silent.
He had told the truth, but since the man refused to believe him, Oliver wasn’t sure how to convince him otherwise.
However, Glyp, still bewildered, mumbled to himself.
“It’s… not a lie.”
“Yes… My master was someone who lived outside Landa. I just recently came up here.”
Glyp’s eyes narrowed as he began sweating profusely, clearly trying to read Oliver’s emotions. Oliver understood what he was doing—he’d done it often enough himself.
“Who… who are you?” Glyp asked, staring intently at Oliver while backing away awkwardly.
Oliver had a rough idea of what he meant.
“Oh, my master said I’m emotionally deficient, so…”
“—No, that’s not it.”
“Pardon?”
Oliver asked again, but Glyp didn’t respond.
His emotions had become a chaotic swirl of confusion, fear, and terror.
It was as though he had just seen something unbelievable. But only for a moment.
Gradually, calmness seeped in, covering up the fear and terror with courage and cunning.
“...Why? Why are you hostile toward me?” he asked.
It was less of a genuine question and more of a probe to gauge Oliver’s reaction.
Oliver answered, as he had questions of his own.
“Well, it just sort of happened that way. May I ask you something too?”
"...Go ahead."
“The puppets I saw on my way here—how did you make them?”
“Are you talking about the Corpse Puppets?”
“Yes. They were incredible. They looked just like real people.”
Oliver praised him sincerely, but Glyp seemed unsettled rather than pleased.
He looked as though he were standing before a wild beast. Yet, oddly enough, within that tension and fear, there was a glimmer of opportunism.
What on earth did he want?
“…I learned it from my master.”
He was being honest.
“You learned it?”
“Yes, from my great master, Puppet.”
It seemed like Glyp had expected some reaction from Oliver, but Oliver’s response was underwhelming.
“Puppet...? A marionette? That’s a unique name.”
Glyp’s emotions flickered with disbelief and astonishment.
“…Do you seriously not know who Puppet is?”
“Um... should I?”
“Of course! Any Black Magician would know! He’s a legend who has lived for hundreds of years in the world of Black Magic!”
“Oh... I’m sorry. I haven’t been learning Black Magic for very long. My master… well, certain circumstances prevented him from teaching me properly.”
"...? How long have you been learning Black Magic?"
“Hm... About a few months?”
Oliver answered after counting on his fingers, unable to recall the exact time he’d been with Joseph, so he gave a rough estimate.
However, Glyp seemed dissatisfied with this answer.
“Lies... Don’t lie! Even if you were a genius, there's no way someone who’s been studying for only a few months could handle my Corpse Puppets, the culmination of my life’s work!”
He was genuinely furious.
It was the look of someone confronting something they couldn't, or shouldn’t, face.
He was deeply angry and in denial.
But it was the truth.
“Are you... a Contractor?”
A Contractor.
Oliver knew that term. It referred to those who gained power by making a pact with a Demon.
According to the books he had read in Joseph’s study, one could instantly obtain power that surpassed talent or a lifetime of effort.
It was akin to a leap in evolution, though at the cost of bearing a great price.
This was why Black Magicians were often shunned.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“No?”
“Yes, I’ve seen a Contractor before, but I’m not one.”
Gulp.
Glyp swallowed hard, seizing this opportunity. He had made up his mind about something.
"...Do you want to become one?"
“Hm… I’m not interested in being a Contractor, but I would like to meet a Demon. There are some things I want to ask.”
Oliver answered, recalling the old man on horseback who had greeted him.
Why had that man greeted him? Why had he felt both alien and familiar?
Oliver wanted to know.
“…You have questions for a Demon?”
“Yes…”
“And… you're interested in my Corpse Puppets?”
Oliver glanced back before answering.
“Yes... They’re quite fascinating.”
“You... you’re very curious, aren’t you?”
“How did you know? I’m curious about a lot of things.”
At some point, a faint smile spread across Glyp’s face. It was the expression of someone who had found a lifeline—or perhaps, struck gold.
“...Then let me help you.”
“You’ll help me?”
“Yes, I’ll help satisfy your curiosity. It seems you’re quite skilled, but lacking in common sense… How about this? You help me, and I’ll help you.”
Oliver looked at Glyp. He was being sincere. Despite his hidden motives, his offer to help was genuine.
“Um… is this related to the Black Hand?”
“Yes… The Mole must’ve told you, right?”
“Yes… From what I’ve heard, it’s an organization of powerful Black Magicians. Is that correct?”
“That’s right… though it’s much more than that. It’s an organization that controls one part of the Underworld, a place where living legends among Black Magicians are gathered. If you join officially—”
“Is Puppet, your master, part of the Black Hand as well?”
“Yes! Now you’re getting it! But when you mention him, be sure to add ‘nim’ out of respect.”
“Ah, understood… But there’s something I don’t quite understand.”
“What?”
“If your master is already a member, why are you trying to join?”
At that moment, Glyp faltered.
It was a sore spot. He stammered before shouting in frustration.
“T-that’s because of my master’s teachings... yes, his teachings! It’s a test to prove my abilities!”
A lie. Oliver could see through Glyp’s deception.
But he chose not to call him out on it.
There didn’t seem to be much point in doing so. Instead, he asked something else.
“This Black Hand... it sounds like an impressive organization.”
“It is.”
“Then it must not be easy to join, right?”
"...What are you trying to say?”
“Oh, it’s just that… is that why you asked the Mole for beggars, like the people beneath us?”
Oliver pointed to the warehouse floor.
There were numerous emotions filled with fear and terror below.
At this question, Glyp’s expression darkened.
“Yeah, so what? Don’t tell me you, a Black Magician, care about such things?”
Caring… Oliver rubbed his forehead, lost in thought.
Did he care?
Oliver thought about why he left Wineham.
He had briefly forgotten while being caught up in his curiosity about Kent.
Why did he leave Wineham?
It was to satisfy his curiosity.
His curiosity about beautiful emotions, Black Magic, and Demons.
Running an organization made it seem impossible to pursue those questions.
But that wasn’t all…
“No...”
Oliver muttered.
Although that was the main reason, there had been a small spark that started it all—a passing remark, though it was the decisive reason Oliver left Wineham.
In that moment, a woman's voice echoed in his mind.
"Don’t remain in the darkness like this. Go out into the world. Meet people and learn how to live as a person."
"Ah..."
Oliver let out a sound as though scratching an itch that had long been bothering him.
And in that process, he had met Kent.
Kent, who had helped him for no particular reason other than because he had seen Oliver.
Simply because of that, he had helped without any ulterior motive.
Just like in the past, when Oliver had received help, Kent had protected the beggars, even risking his life.
Though Kent’s emotions were not free from temptation or frustration, he still stuck to his beliefs until the end.
It wasn’t a dazzling, radiant light, but nonetheless, it was a soft, gentle light...
"-Answer my question!"
Oliver snapped back to reality at Glyp’s sudden shout.
The Puppeteer was glaring at him with an angry expression.
“Answer me! Does a Black Magician really care about trash like that?”
“Hm... maybe just one person.”
"...What?"
"I can’t quite express it, but... enduring hardships to stick to one's will, it's... quite beautiful.”
“Beautiful?”
“Yes, the emotion... as a Black Magician, you understand, right?”
“...No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate.”
“...Let me say this again. If you cooperate with me, I will help you obtain the knowledge you seek. Once you join the Black Hand, you’ll have access to the organization’s knowledge and connections, including the Black Market.”
“Hm... the Black Hand and the Black Market, you say. But, would I need to offer beggars like the Mole did to join?”
"Yes, that’s the price of admission. It’s a good deal. You trade the trash on the streets for immense power and knowledge."
“Hm...”
Oliver paused to think.
There was so much he wanted to learn about—Demons, Black Magic, and the beautiful light he had seen. And yet, he didn’t know how to gain that knowledge.
The man in front of him was genuinely offering to help Oliver obtain it.
The first step would be to hand over the beggars.
It was a small price to pay, undeniably.
There were many of them, and they were powerless. If Oliver wanted to, he could easily round them up and hand them over. But something about that felt... off.
"It doesn’t sit well with me."
"...What?"
"It just doesn’t feel right. Yes, I want knowledge, but this doesn’t feel right."
"...Do you realize how stupid you sound? You’re going to throw away such a great opportunity for something that insignificant? The Black Hand... it’s a dream for every Black Magician!"
“Well, it’s unfortunate, but I guess I have no choice. But still…”
“Still what?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have met you if it weren’t for that insignificant reason, so isn’t that interesting in itself? ...There’s a certain joy in meeting people and seeing what the world has to offer.”
“Is that so? Then die!”
Glyp, filled with rage, commanded the remaining zombies to attack.
Oliver aimed Hate Bullets at their heads and fired.
Unlike the Corpse Puppets, these zombies had no special enhancements, and they were easily destroyed.
[Meat Shield]
[Bone Spear]
Glyp created a barrier using the shattered zombies and crafted spears from their bones.
However, Oliver bombarded him with Hate Bullets, and Glyp’s defenses were thoroughly dismantled.
“...Ugh!”
The barrier made of corpses was finally pierced, and Glyp fell, struck in the abdomen. Desperate, he spoke.
“Y-you bastard... Fine... I’ll leave. I’ll go, so...”
“I know you’re lying.”
Oliver said as he approached.
“Urgh... If you kill me, the people who receive goods from me will seek revenge—”
“—That’s a lie too. You’re not even sure of that yourself, are you?”
Glyp’s face contorted in shock.
It was the expression of someone completely stripped bare, filled with shame.
Oliver knelt beside the man and asked politely.
“Joining the Black Hand, that’s not really a test given to you by your master Puppet, is it? Why did you lie?”
Glyp’s face twisted even further in despair, shame, and fear as he gasped for breath.
Those were the only emotions he felt as he died.
"Well..."
Oliver looked at the corpse and sighed.
He had thought he might witness a beautiful light, but for some reason, in the end, fear outweighed resolve. Why?
With a hint of disappointment, Oliver focused his attention on his surroundings.
Just like in Joseph’s factory, he saw a hidden mechanism for a secret passage.
Oliver approached, grasping the emotions in his hand, and touched the wall.
The black light flickered a few times, and soon the hidden passage opened.
As he descended the stairs, he found a bed, a table, a few books, a safe, various Black Magic tools, and people locked in iron cages.
Oliver looked at them and asked.
“Do you need any help?”