The Master felt a flood of memories rushing back.
As he pulled the stems of the potatoes, countless eggs seemed to follow, and just like that, thoughts of the Solar Energy Facility began to cascade into his mind.
It was reminiscent of an old trend called Mind Mapping.
[Now that I think about it, there seemed to be plenty of noise surrounding the solar energy establishments…]
When one is of a certain height and status, the endless rumors come flowing in. The Master, not in a low position himself, had indeed picked up several bits of gossip.
[Have you ever heard any stories about the Solar Energy Facility?]
But while he might not be at the lowest echelon, neither was he at the top, and there were certainly limits to the rumors he could catch wind of. Most were nothing more than dull gossip, and he usually couldn’t even remember them properly.
The information regarding solar energy was hazy at best, lingering at the level of “I think I might have heard something.” And that was where it stopped.
Thus, instead of struggling alone, the Master decided to pose a question to the Next Shinto Priest.
After all, the Next Shinto Priest was in a position likely to know some rumors he didn’t.
And the Next Shinto Priest did not betray the Master’s expectations.
“The Solar Energy Facility… I have heard of it, but…”
Jinseong trailed off, his tone heavy with meaning. Then, lowering his voice just a touch, he casually threw a question back at the Master as if testing the waters.
“Are you inquiring about what I think you’re inquiring about?”
[What do you mean by that…?]
“Cough, you know, the political clan…”
A political clan?
The Master blinked in confusion, unable to grasp what Jinseong had just said.
[A political clan? What on earth does that mean?]
“Oh. Well, it’s nothing. Just forget it.”
Yet the curiosity remained unresolved.
When the Master let on that he was unaware, Jinseong clammed up as if treating him like ‘someone unworthy’ of the topic. He stubbornly avoided the main subject and kept spinning the conversation in circles, dragging it out as if trying to wear the Master down.
[Huh. Fine. This call has dragged on long enough; shouldn’t we wrap it up?]
“Hmm. I’m just enjoying this conversation with you, Master, so I didn’t notice time passing! Oh, right! If you ever need my assistance regarding Mana, feel free to call on me anytime. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and come running!”
[Thanks for the thought, at least. Well then…]
Eventually, convinced that Jinseong wasn’t going to reveal anything, the Master let out a small sigh and ended the call. Jinseong ended the conversation with empty words and drifted back into silence.
Once the call concluded, the room Jinseong occupied fell back into stillness, and as the glow of the smartphone turned off, darkness seeped in, enveloping him.
Jinseong stood still, accepting the darkness as if it were soft silk wrapping around him, quietly breathing in. After a few deep breaths, he suddenly exhaled as if to expel all the air from his lungs, and when his lungs felt shriveled and his head dazed, he reached out and grasped at the air.
With a bit of noise, a round metal container was drawn toward Jinseong, and without a second thought, he poured the powder inside over his head and neck. The white powder scattered and clung to his upper body, and he carefully rubbed it in as if painting himself.
Then, with his nails sharply pointed, he began to scratch at it as if removing excess skin.
Scratch.
Scratch.
The ten sharpened fingers tore across Jinseong’s body like a beast’s claws, leaving in their wake clumps of powder, transformed into shards resembling snow, piling up on the ground.
Drip.
Drip.
Jinseong didn’t halt even as sharp nails inflicted wounds on him. Blood finally seeped from the cuts, and the blood that oozed out tangled with the white powder, coalescing into a dough-like mass, but he persisted in his motions.
Drip.
Drip.
He continued this self-harming routine for a good while, moving mechanically with an expressionless face as if he felt no pain.
And finally, when his chest was completely covered in blood, and all the powder on his upper body had been scraped away by his nails, he stopped moving. But without taking another breath, he walked toward the door and gripped the handle with his blood-slicked hands.
Creeeak.
As he opened the door, light began to flow into the room.
On the hinges that slowly revealed themselves in the sunlight, there was thick, grimy red rust, as if the door, groaning open, was a vampire screeching in agony at the sunlight.
“Huh.”
Jinseong squinted against the golden light like the creaking hinges.
But it seemed he had no intention of avoiding the brightness; instead, he stepped out, expanding his body in welcome of the sun as if he were a plant desperately seeking photosynthesis.
Squish.
As he closed his eyes to soak in the heat of the sun, a distant sound of footsteps reached him.
“Deity, are you done with your recovery?”
From a distance, Rise approached, politely inquiring of Jinseong, who softly opened his eyes upon hearing her voice.
“Yeah.”
Rise offered him a modest piece of white garment.
“Please wait a moment.”
After keeping Rise waiting briefly, Jinseong turned to gaze into the room he had just occupied.
The room he’d been in.
The cramped space he had stayed in for several days to recuperate and cleanse himself after using magic.
An old, crumbling metal container with stagnant airflow, and somehow, it was plagued with pests that continually crawled in to pester him.
Jinseong cast a lingering glance at the dilapidated container that had provided him with comforting darkness over the past few days, igniting his Samādhi True Fire. Then with his other hand, he lifted an oil container into the air and began to pour it.
Splash.
Splash.
The gasoline floated into the container with a sloshing sound and was scattered everywhere in a frenzy.
Across the walls, on what was merely decorative electrical installations, on the bottles of drinking water and bread that had never been touched.
And even onto the clumps of black powder scattered on the floor.
“There’s a lot of powder…”
“Well, that’s the cost, I suppose.”
Rise mumbled, looking at the dark powder as if she were in shock, and Jinseong casually replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world; like paying for a meal at a restaurant, or feeling the chill of winter and the heat of summer.
Nonetheless, even though Jinseong spoke with such nonchalance, Rise only watched him with worried eyes.
What lay before her were remnants of countless molds that had blossomed from Jinseong’s skin and fallen away due to some measure, and the sight of Jinseong, now drenched in blood.
Jinseong chuckled in response to Rise’s worried gaze and playfully ruffled her hair, as if to thank her for her concern.
In response, Rise perked up her fox ears, brimming with delight.
Thwack.
Jinseong stroked Rise’s head with one hand while with the other, he snapped his fingers, sending a spark of Samādhi True Fire into the container.
As the gasoline ignited, Jinseong quickly moved to shut the container’s door and, not content with just that, used prepared materials to seal the gaps tightly.
Not a single wisp of smoke should escape.
The inside of the container must reach a temperature comparable to a cauldron of boiling hell.
And once this task was complete, Rise walked over to a water container she had prepared earlier and splashed water over herself. She then began to wipe away the blood smeared across Jinseong’s upper body with her palm. Fortunately, the blood hadn’t clotted, and it was easily wiped away, revealing smooth skin devoid of any wounds.
Rise’s cheeks flushed with a faint shade of red as she beheld this sight.
But that was only for a moment.
“I’ll help you.”
Noticing that Jinseong’s back was still stained red, she picked up a soft sponge and began to wipe the blood from his back.
“It’s all done.”
“Thanks.”
Jinseong nodded at the voice coming from behind him and straightened up. Then he reached for the garment, hastily dressing himself before heading toward the Main Hall with Rise.
Once inside the Main Hall, Jinseong confirmed that the divine power had enveloped the space like a curtain, preventing any sounds from escaping, before finally posing his question.
“It seems there hasn’t yet been an article about Uchikawa Ryosuke?”
At Jinseong’s query, which was tinged with perplexity, Rise lowered her head slightly.
“I believe it’s because the journalists don’t want to go against power.”
“Power, power, you say? My connections are all shattered, there’s no one to clean up after me, and no one to serve or follow me.”
“Perhaps they still cannot be sure about this.”
Jinseong stroked his chin at the mention of journalists being cautious.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Everything will flow according to its own order.”
He chuckled to himself, recalling the Master he had spoken with just a moment ago.
“Even if an article doesn’t arise, clues have been thrown around, so it’s only a matter of time before we hear those ominous rumors regarding Uchikawa Ryosuke.”
