Bailonz Street 13

When I opened my eyes again, my body was intact. I was healthy! But there was no time for rejoicing. I succumbed to another attack. The familiar loading screen, the intangible force dragging me away, and the series of awakenings—it was a relentless cycle. The only silver lining was that Clara Barnum quickly ended it this time instead of dragging it out.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I burst into laughter. As soon as I opened my eyes, I burst into tears. I laughed and cried, unsure if I was actually laughing or crying. In truth, I didn’t even know what I was saying. It felt like I needed to say something, anything. But what should I say? What should I talk about? Mom. Liam. Home. South Korea. The capital of South Korea is Seoul. What’s in Seoul? Gyeongbokgung Palace, Sungnyemun Gate, King Sejong, and, um…

Plop.

I opened my eyes again. I laughed. I opened my eyes. This time, I didn’t have the strength to laugh. I opened my eyes, again and again.

How many times has it been now?

I couldn’t tell. It felt like swimming through jelly, even moving my hand was a struggle. I couldn’t possibly keep count, so I gave up trying. My mind was blank. The sound of blood dripping echoed in my ears, sending shivers down my spine.

“Damn cultists…”

I muttered between gasps, and an unsatisfied groan followed. Clara, with a blank expression, set something down and picked up a new tool.

Wait, isn’t that a saw?

I was momentarily panicked and cursed even more. Honestly, after experiencing so much, it was impossible to hold back the swearing. Even a sage would react the same way. My whole body hurt as if it were being sliced with a knife.

I screamed. And then I laughed, like a mad person. My clothes clung to my skin as if they were a part of me, stained red.

“Wow. This feels amazing…”

My mouth muttered on its own. My jaw was clamped, and I glanced up at Clara with weakly lifted eyelids. Her grotesque figure came into view.

“Jane.”

The thing that was Clara smiled.

At some point, the woman had lost any semblance of a human form. Mould grew on her skin, lifeless flesh clung to her bones. Her limbs, now merely skin and bones, extended like a spider’s, and her decayed hair barely clung to her scalp.

Yet, somehow, she was incredibly strong, and I couldn’t resist. She looked like a zombie from a movie. It reminded me of a children’s movie in Korea that deceptively induced button phobia in kids. The witch there looked just like this.

TL/N: I think she’s referring to the movie Coraline.

Anyway, she wasn’t human. Anyone who could do this to me without a second thought couldn’t be human.

When did it start? When did Clara Barnum begin to change?

She now resembled Philip Peterson. Like a dead person pretending to be alive.

I rolled my eyes to examine her. Her words echoed in my mind: “The dead walk.”

She spoke again as if it were a surprise.

“You’ve held out for a long time. Do you have anything to say? I hope it’s what I want to hear.”

“Drop dead.”

Clara tenderly stroked my head. A cruel smile played on her lips.

“You’re still lively. Keep enduring.”

Ah, damn it.

I closed my eyes humbly. The senses shut off. Pain no longer registered.

＊ ＊ ＊

“Are you ready to talk now?”

I panted. I had no feeling. It felt like my lower half had been cut off. My fingers seemed non-existent. I couldn’t control my limbs as I wished. I didn’t even know what had happened.

Lying still, just breathing, Clara stroked my cheek.

“If you won’t talk, I’ll kill someone else. Your acquaintances, everyone in this city you’ve ever met. Or rather, since they’ll all die when He comes, maybe I should kill them now? We can do that. I’ll start with your detective, the one who protected you so fiercely…”

If you even lay a finger on Liam, I swear…

But no words left my mouth. Clara seemed even more excited by my quiet demeanour.

“Liam Moore, wasn’t it? He was quite a nuisance. Too much interference. I’ll make him just like you. Should I make him watch you die a dozen times? Maybe after seeing you die twenty times, he’ll realise that he can’t save Jane Osmond.”

“Kill.”

“Then perhaps that noble protector of Greenwich will blow my head off.”

“Kill.”

“Jane, what? That’s not what I want to hear.”

“Kill me, kill! I’ll never give you what you want!”

Clara sighed deeply. Her shoulders slumped dramatically.

“Ah, this is always the hardest part. Erasing one’s self.”

Always?

I couldn’t ask. My body was at its limit. Slow slumber engulfed me. I fought against sleep, but it was in vain.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, I was awake again, denying me even a moment’s rest.

“Hello, Jane. Good morning. Does your body hurt?”

Damn it.

“I tried killing you four more times. You still seem fine. How many times will it take to break your spirit? A hundred? Two hundred? More?”

Damn cultists.

“Ah… do you really think that? That Liam Moore will come?”

She looked at me with pity, tapping my cheek with the back of her hand and laughing.

“Do you know what day it is? How many days have passed?”

I had forgotten how to speak. Only screams had left my lips for so long, I couldn’t remember how to use my tongue. How do you make a sound? What can a person say?

A, B, C, I slowly moved my dulled tongue to form words.

“How many days?”

Clara smiled, her face filled with anticipation, like she was savouring a delicious meal, expecting the despair I would soon show.

“One day.”

Wow, not even surprising.

“Exactly twenty hours have passed since the afternoon you disappeared. Jane, your detective doesn’t even know where you’re dying. He’s probably just starting the investigation. If he can.”

What did you do to Liam? Clara seemed to notice the sharpness in my eyes and changed the subject.

“When you die, it will reset. Back to January 20th, 12:00 PM. Even if the detective rescues you, wherever and whenever you die, it will be today again. We’ll endlessly kill you and bring you back here. Jane, there’s no escape. Your end is here.”

I smelled the stench of death.

Will I be buried here forever too? I wished for death, but I reminded myself to think differently.

“So, I’ve decided to give you hope. If we leave you here, the detective will come. Experience the despair of being dragged back to hell at the moment of rescue.”

And with that, Clara stood up. The sight of her turning me into minced meat was gone. She laughed cheerfully, overlapping with the image of her reciting sonnets at the Leximion Association.

“Goodbye, Eurydice. Please lose your mind quickly.”

＊ ＊ ＊

The grooves in the floor were still deeply etched.

As I sat at the altar, organising my thoughts, my tense muscles finally relaxed.

I didn’t know why something like a catacomb from France was moved to London, but I strongly felt it shouldn’t be left as is. Despite the handcuffs restricting my movements, I could still look around. I busily inspected the area for any clues I could find.

First, the grooves in the floor. A collection of circles with a clear purpose.

I didn’t know how to read them, but I had a good eye for comparison. They looked similar to the large magic circle that drained Liam Moore’s power. The blasphemous drawings didn’t emit the bright light or the humming sound like in the cave. But I knew that if it lit up, it wouldn’t be good.

Old bloodstains were still visible, having soaked into the stone, turning it dark red. My blood would flow over it many times. Clara also let the blood she drew from me flow naturally across the floor. What would happen if the blood reached the end?

Liam Moore would come soon. He would find me wherever I was. I had to do what I could before then.

The immediate task was to restore the system.

I still remembered Clara’s long fingers cutting the strings connected to me.

El was disconnected from me when I came here. The notebook was no longer a part of me. Although I wasn’t confident in syllogism, I could deduce that the notebook was related to El. So, what was El?