It all happened in an instant.
The moment Lime extended its tentacles.
Park Jin-soo, who had anticipated such a situation, tossed something from his pocket between Lime and Lee Yoo-jin with a swift motion. Lee Yoo-jin, already utterly exhausted, didn’t react, but Lime did.
However, the not-yet-fully-evolved Lime did not swat it away; instead, it simply tried to cover its face and body.
In the midst of hastily maneuvering Jelly, Daesik, who was in Lime’s grasp, was flung away like a discarded doll, landing quite pathetically.
And in that split second, because Lime had instinctively covered its face, something white burst out upon impact with its body.
“Urgh?!”
Lime, unable to produce a sound, was instead represented by a groan from Lee Yoo-jin, as if offering her voice for it.
As the bright light, akin to a flashbang, subsided, both a person and a Singularity realized that their bodies had stiffened rock-solid, much like they had been petrified. Yet their senses remained intact, leaving them feeling quite bewildered as they rolled their eyes and shifted their vision.
Having anticipated the light and shut his eyes, Park Jin-soo wiped away the sweat dripping from his forehead and muttered quietly.
“Hmph… That was close.”
“That’s some quick reflexes for an old man, isn’t it?”
“Hahaha, I’m still in my prime!”
In response to Lee Sang-yong’s somewhat unsettling joke, Park Jin-soo replied nonchalantly. His mood seemed exceptionally good. After all, he now had more than enough reasons to feel happy.
One reason was that a Singularity who was thought to be gone forever had reappeared, alive and well, right before his eyes.
The other was that the item he had brought just in case had proven useful, which made him immeasurably glad. An unexpected gift and the reward for his efforts felt like a double blessing. Unable to suppress the smile creeping onto his face, he chuckled sinisterly, as if an evil scientist might. Beside him, Lee Sang-yong appeared with an unpleasant smile as he inspected Lime like one might eye a piece of meat.
Seeing this, Lime felt a wave of nausea. He’d rather be dangling like snot from the nose of a giant crocodile than endure this.
The woman standing nearby, Yoo-jin, also didn’t look too pleased. Confusion from the sudden turn of events aside, given the attitude of Yoo-jin moments before her fall, things didn’t seem like they were going to turn out well for her.
And her prediction sadly came true.
After spitting on the ground, Lee Sang-yong approached her and casually—no, maliciously—plunged his punch into Yoo-jin’s abdomen, his fist as large as a pot lid.
“Oof!” It sounded like the thud of a drum, and a cry of anguish escaped Yoo-jin’s mouth.
“Kehk…!”
Weakened from exhaustion, her body was no match for Lee Sang-yong’s punch. Yet she couldn’t even fall, stiff as she was from the earlier effect. Sticky saliva dribbled from her mouth to the floor. Watching her with satisfaction, Lee Sang-yong unleashed what seemed like all his pent-up stress as he threw punches at her.
“Did you prepare yourself for this when you decided to jump? Huh? Try saying that again. What did you say earlier?”
“Fiend.”
“Hmph.”
Despite the pain in her throat and her stomach, Yoo-jin taunted Lee Sang-yong, as if to keep his attention fixed on her.
Predictably, Lee Sang-yong vented his anger on her. Each time her lips quivered, his fist or palm struck her body. Bound by an unknown force, she could do nothing but provoke him with her voice.
And yet, Yoo-jin smiled inwardly, despite her head growing increasingly foggy. Somehow, maybe, she had managed to save Lime. And perhaps she was repaying, in some small way, the grace that had once saved her.
Furthermore…
She felt a small relief knowing that Lime couldn’t see her from behind. For the kind Singularity, who was more humane than most humans, this was surely a cruel scene to witness. Thus, Yoo-jin not only taunted Lee Sang-yong but also tried to suppress her groans.
“Uhn…”
“Oi, your bones might be broken by now? You’re tougher than expected. So, let’s see if you can last through this.”
Unfortunately for her, though, Lime’s field of vision wasn’t limited to its eyes alone. Lime detected everything and realized that Yoo-jin was deliberately doing this. A bubbling rage, akin to molten lava, began to well up inside.
If only Lime had lips, it would have been biting them, and if capable of sound, it would have been screaming.
But for now, Lime could do nothing.
Frustration swelled within as it encountered a situation it had never faced before—something completely irrational and uncontrollable. It couldn’t prevent the tremors in its Jelly form.
What is happening? Why can’t I move my body? I need to stop that bastard!
With a furrowed brow, Park Jin-soo approached and smiled faintly before addressing Lime’s confusion.
“Using these tools on a Singularity is a first… but it seems effective. Or could it be because you’re closer to human? Either way, it’s fascinating.”
He tapped Lime experimentally.
“The texture seems the same… good, good.”
Lime thought it would melt anything if the fingers touched it, but Park Jin-soo, no fool, avoided that mistake. Though it’s uncertain if Lime could have melted it, the opportunity had slipped away.
Then, hearing the unpleasant sounds emanating from nearby, Park Jin-soo clicked his tongue but soon turned his gaze toward Lime with a face filled with exhilaration.
“Much like in that accursed board game, which immobilizes you, there’s also a reward upon completion.”
I would surely like to test quickly whether it applies to you too.
Park Jin-soo didn’t reveal all his thoughts. He believed it was better not to elaborate and accidentally create variables; it was far better just to take action.
“Hmm…”
Satisfied with his own musings, he spoke for the final time as he observed Lee Sang-yong continuing his brutal act on Yoo-jin.
“You should stop there. She looks like she might die.”
“Wouldn’t it be the same, regardless?”
“…You’re right.”
Could he really feel nothing while killing with his own hands?
…Truly an unsavory guy. Tsk.
Though thinking so, Lee Sang-yong masked his disgust and restrained himself, appearing as someone who didn’t want Yoo-jin to die.
And, in fact, he didn’t want her to die.
There was a reward, sometimes described as a wish, at the end of the Singularity’s “Real Board Game”. Though vaguely defined, this reward could let one fulfill wishes—to a degree.
It might seem like one could achieve anything, but like any board game, the limit of the reward was clearly defined.
Vague desires like increasing the number of wishes or becoming something beyond human were not achievable.
However…
If certain special methods were used—like the hidden elements Park Jin-soo had tossed at Lime and Yoo-jin—it could slightly change things.
Of course, even then, impossible wishes such as becoming a god wouldn’t come true.
But perhaps changing a single thought within a Singularity might be possible. It didn’t need to be dramatic.
Merely switching the human that Lime cared about—from someone like Han Seori outside the game, to Park Jin-soo—was a very simple manipulation.
It seemed highly probable. Especially now, when Lime was subdued by the hidden “Real Board Game” tools, he was confident that his plan would succeed.
To the Singularity, even fulfilling such a wish might require some ‘sacrifice’, but isn’t sacrificing one woman who was bound to die anyway, and one piece of trash disappearing from society, a rather trivial price for something grand?
Furthermore, only he knew this hidden mechanism in this room.
He didn’t want to reduce the offerings set aside for him, so he restrained Lee Sang-yong. If there weren’t enough people and the plan failed—it would be a very inconvenient situation.
Lee Sang-yong, observing Park Jin-soo, felt a vague uneasiness.
This old man is definitely scheming something… I just don’t know what.
Well, if humans don’t work, wouldn’t a Singularity suffice?
Licking his lips, he removed his hand from Yoo-jin and turned his body. As he did, Yoo-jin tried to speak, but the blood pooling in her mouth prevented her voice from forming correctly, and it flowed to the ground.
“…Haa…”
Watching Lee Sang-young’s movements, Park Jin-soo sighed but didn’t try to stop him. He wasn’t sure exactly what Lee Sang-young intended, but since the Singularity wouldn’t likely die…
No, that thing won’t die.
If that bastard dies, it might be a completely different matter.
Shaking his head subtly, Park Jin-soo turned away from him and moved his steps toward the object placed centrally—an object that looked like a narrow-mouthed jar.
“So, you’re leaving now? But will the plan really go as intended? After all, it’s still a Singularity.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll work.”
“Hmm… Alright, then. But wouldn’t it be better if we left a bit later?”
“Eh, it’ll take a little time anyway.”
Seeing Lee Sang-young’s excited expression, Park Jin-soo glanced at him with curiosity and disgust before looking away.
Well, why not let him have his way till the end?
It’s intriguing to see how it will all unfold, isn’t it?
Letting Lee Sang-young go first, Park Jin-soo turned his attention to the centrepiece—an item that looked like a narrow-mouthed jar—and began to recall the events.
“Wha- What is it?!”
Just then, Lee Sang-yong’s voice of shock echoed, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
What is that sound?
The effect still had time left before wearing off, didn’t it?
Perplexed, Park Jin-soo turned around and saw someone familiar—a Local—pinning down a fallen Lee Sang-yong, swinging their hands about wildly.
Despite Lee Sang-young’s imposing physique, his punches landed ineffectively on the Local’s fists and torso without resistance as he cried out.
“S-Son of a bitch! Stop standing there and help me!”
“Aah, yes, understood.”
Sensing a murderous intent in the ferocity of the punches, Park Jin-soo reluctantly approached to assist, worried he might die otherwise.
At that moment…
Clatter.
“Uh?”
A foreboding sound made Park Jin-soo turn around instinctively, and he blurted out in surprise.
The jar, previously intact, was nowhere to be seen.
