As expected, the inside of the hut was swarming with creatures created by Irene.
But not a single one bared its teeth at Ian. Instead, trembling as if terrified, they crawled into the corners. Just like little children who had spotted a scary uncle.
Of course, Ian was an orphan, so he knew nothing of holidays where relatives gathered. To him, Seollal and Chuseok were merely fleeting days off. Rather, religious holidays including Christmas had been the bigger occasions for him.
Still, he had caught glimpses of ordinary family scenes through stories on online communities. Ian let out a short laugh and finished stepping inside the hut.
Clack.
When he shut the rattling door, it creaked and a gap formed. The hinge seemed broken. It was only natural, given it hadn't been maintained for a long time.
It didn't particularly matter. Ian exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and plopped down onto the sofa that remained relatively intact. Then he looked at the lung tucked away in the corner and flashed a bright smile.
"Hello. Grandpa's here."
[Vweeeek!!]
The lung fled. Hopping frantically, it immediately rolled down the stairs and went into the basement.
Ian didn't bother watching its retreating figure. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Irene across from him—or rather, on what had been Irene.
"……."
Writhing flesh. A massive womb. An appearance that could be described as nothing more than that. Ian flicked his half-burnt, smoldering cigarette and sank his body into the backrest.
The hut's ceiling was roughly 3 meters from the floor. And at that same height, a giant womb was fused entirely with one wall.
It had no cover. The organ was not whole either. Tentacle clusters writhed attached to the cervix, and where the ovaries should be, Irene's head and legs were positioned on each side.
Only then did Ian understand what Mariang had meant when she said it looked like someone had forcibly glued it on with adhesive.
Her words had been accurate. Irene's head and legs were crudely yet grotesquely merged with the womb, like a child's art project. They looked liable to fall right off if grabbed and pulled.
That the end of a woman who had pursued perfection in art more than anyone else would be so miserable. It was truly ironic.
No, perhaps she had simply returned to her roots.
After all, an artist couldn't have painted masterpieces from birth. Couldn't that thing be the result of her unconsciously fumbling for memories of her childhood, when she first held a brush—a time she could never return to no matter how much she wished?
"……Hmm."
Either way, it hardly mattered now. He wasn't curious about Irene's inner feelings.
Ian sprang up from his seat and plunged a primate-killing knife deep into the womb. But it only bled; it didn't die. Proof that Irene was no longer human. Ian snickered and withdrew the handle.
"You've transcended the limits of your species. Congratulations. You're not even a homunculus now."
[…….]
There was no answer. Naturally. Irene's head no longer had lips. All that remained was the head itself. Her face was simply bright red, as though covered in red paint. Only her golden hair hung down with gravity.
Ian brushed that hair aside with his finger and muttered.
"Can you understand my words? If you understand, show some kind of reaction. You reacted to the word 'hand,' so it seems you can recognize voices to some extent."
At Ian's words, the tentacles squirmed immediately. It was a slight movement, but a definite reaction. Ian took a step back.
"Draw a circle with the tentacles."
It drew.
"A triangle."
It drew again.
"Draw a diamond inside the circle, engrave constellations at each vertex, then put that inside an isosceles triangle."
This time, it couldn't. Ian shook his head.
"Irene, you're a useless creature."
He let out a deep sigh and dabbed his finger in the blood pooled on the floor. Then he sketched a picture on the back of his hand.
Of course, he hadn't called her useless merely because she couldn't draw well. There was a reason.
'Irene is no longer human. Her value as a sacrifice has already plummeted. Even if I force a contract, there's no use for her.'
A magician's body is extremely valuable. But Irene was no longer a magician; she wasn't even human. Even if he tore away her head, legs, and womb, it would merely be material for creating an abomination.
Of course, having passed through an outer god's hands, she would be far more valuable than an ordinary abomination. But that was all. Using the one remaining slave slot on Irene was too much of a waste. This had to be saved a little longer for when he truly needed it.
Even if he could cancel it whenever he wanted, the contract itself had a cooldown, so misusing it would be stupid.
That being the case, the best place to use Irene was at most an abomination factory, but there was no reason to keep her alive even for that. He could procure materials whenever he wanted; why bother?
'To begin with, there was no guarantee she'd be alive when separated from here. So to use her safely, I'd have to keep her planted here and hike up every time I need something. I'd be better off taking requests from the Cartel. If I leave her be and something goes wrong, that's just another problem.'
One way or another, killing her was the right thing to do in the end. Hadn't he come all the way up here intending to do just that?
He had considered no other options, nor had he found any possibility worth considering.
If Irene had become not a mere abomination but a formal creature of the Outer Sea, Ian would have tried speaking with the Mistress of the Outer Sea. But the Irene he saw with his own eyes was not a creature of the Outer Sea.
Thus, she had no value.
"Irene."
Having finished his thoughts, Ian rolled up his sleeve and held the back of his hand out to her.
A three-stroke picture drawn in blood on the back of his hand. Ian erased one of them and continued.
"Kill yourself."
Puhwok!
All of Irene's tentacles began stabbing and tearing at herself.
Her children burst out all at once and devoured the giant womb. As they did, she crumbled and regenerated. But the rate of destruction outpaced regeneration. She instinctively birthed children to aid regeneration, yet they only tore at her flesh rather than help.
Left alone, she would self-destruct on her own. Probably within a minute. Ian took the opportunity to sit back down on the sofa and look at the grimoire in his hand.
"Rose."
When he uttered the name he had personally given the outer god, the grimoire opened to a blank page on its own.
He understood that full conversation was impossible, as one couldn't directly communicate with an outer god but had to go through the intermediary of a grimoire. However, conveying the essentials to each other was sufficiently possible.
"Why did you make Irene like that?"
Blood splatter spurted onto Ian's cheek with a wet crack. It dropped onto the grimoire's white page and moved on its own, forming letters.
[The outer god, Mistress of the Outer Sea, hereafter Rose, relayed that 'the human named Irene was punished in anger for consuming a portion of the Schemer's flesh.']
"……She ate flesh?"
[Rose clearly conveyed that only she and the owner of this grimoire, Sin Ian, may do as they please with her children. No other existence will be permitted, and she made her will explicit to Sin Ian that this will remain so in the future.]
"So you simply did it out of anger."
The grimoire fell silent. A silence of affirmation. Ian let out a deep sigh and leaned his head back.
"I understand the situation. I know it's something to be angry about. But make sure this doesn't happen again. I'll handle everything myself, so don't intervene unnecessarily."
[…….]
"At least don't act on your own unless I ask you to. Answer if you understand."
[Rose announces that she understands.]
"Good."
Ian stroked the grimoire's cover and leaned his upper body forward.
"You're listening, right? This includes you too, so keep it in mind."
[Un.]
[U, uung!]
The second grimoire in his bag emitted a short vibration at his words.
That was enough. It wasn't as though he could punish the Mistress of the Outer Sea, so he figured a verbal warning would suffice this time.
But if a similar situation occurred again…… he wouldn't let it slide then.
Of course, he couldn't give a severe penalty. He still needed to keep using magic after all. Ignoring the outer god who caused an accident for about a month would probably be sufficient.
If that wasn't enough, he'd have to think of another measure.
[Uung!]
[Un…….]
[U, uweong!]
The grimoires, reading Ian's intentions, displayed various reactions. He was relieved that it seemed to have been conveyed properly.
[…….]
While he was thinking, Irene's womb had already been completely devoured and disappeared. All that remained were her head and legs, and the thin strands of flesh connecting them.
Even that was already in a state of cadaver. Irene had just died here today.
No, perhaps not just now.
From the moment she died as a magician, Irene's identity had effectively vanished; one could say the human named Irene had put a period on her life several hours ago.
"Nnngh……"
Ian stretched out once and looked down at the abominations that had begun committing mass suicide. There were quite many, but their rate of death was no less severe, so there seemed no need to pay them much mind.
Still, just in case, Ian waited to confirm the death of the last remaining abomination before plucking out Irene's head and leaving the hut.
"Ah, he's out."
Beyond the nearly lifted fog, his companions revealed themselves. Ian hoisted Irene's head high and flashed a grin.
"Let's go have a company dinner. I'm bringing my disciple too, so make a reservation somewhere with good ratings."
At his banter, the group burst into wry laughter.
*
The group washed up thoroughly and changed clothes at their respective residences before regrouping at a Korean BBQ restaurant in Seoul.
The meat was grilled by Ian, the only native Korean. In the process, he stealthily took the tastiest cuts for his own bowl. Fortunately, since they were all foreigners, no one noticed.
"Here, eat."
As he moved the fully cooked meat to the edge, Frederica and Cecilia immediately reached out with their chopsticks.
"Haup…… it's so fucking goooood……"
Frederica chewed the meat in her mouth for a long time, savoring the taste. Despite her appearance, she seemed to have strong gourmet tendencies.
As for Cecilia, she was eating as if she were always in battle. Not stealing others' meat was courtesy enough.
Johan was downing soju straight from the bottle. Alisa, clumsy with chopsticks, tried to pick up meat with a spoon only to drop it, making a face like she was about to cry.
Amelia, who had come out of the house all carefree, was also busily picking up meat and eating beside Ian.
"Is it good?"
"Yeth!"
Ian burst into a short laugh at Amelia's clumsy reply.
For reference, Mariang couldn't come. Ian had stashed her at home along with Irene's head, since a quadruple amputee crawling around would only draw unnecessary attention.
Well, it was probably fine since no one particularly mourned her absence.
Thinking so, Ian dipped marinated ribs in ssamjang and ate.