TBR CH92

The evil giants, devils, or dragons always separate their souls and hide them in a place difficult to find, until a beloved human coaxes out the secret. Whether it’s a parrot under the sea or a blackthorn in a duck’s egg, once the fragile thing is destroyed, the mighty power crumbles to dust.

—Excerpt from Dr. Roland’s monograph Various Observations on Folklore: The Story Volume, accompanied by multiple original story excerpts.

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Hill stood once more before the door of Project Alpha. The titanium-white metal door gleamed with the luster of human technology, yet what was locked behind it was, ironically, a monster that defied scientific explanation. He took a deep breath—this time, at least, he had come prepared.

The research institute had provided him with extensive data on the monster, calculated the least terrifying state it could manifest in without malicious intent, and given Hill a psychological heads-up. He was also issued a special inhibitor by the institute’s armed unit, designed to suppress his neural reactions and make him less susceptible to influence.

John explained to him, “The medication will buy you enough time. Try not to reveal any flaws that might alert the monster.”

Hill blinked, his clear, light-blue eyes carrying a hint of shyness as they briefly met the special forces captain’s face. Sure enough, Black Hawk’s gaze softened, and he stared silently at Hill for a few seconds. “Stay safe.”

This meant he had taken another step forward in his plan to add John to his list of lovers.

Hill concealed the shadow that flickered in his eyes. His ID bore a special code, making it clear at a glance that his status within the institute was extraordinary. The door slid open after sensing the magnetic card, revealing a surreal sight that seemed out of place in the research facility. The artificial sea was indeed mesmerizing, and he stepped inside cautiously.

He didn’t see the monster right away.

Hill bit his lip, relieved yet finding his mouth slightly dry. Project Alpha held a significance unlike any other monster in this world—it was a task assigned to him by the System, one he had to complete. Moreover, his recent failures, though circumstantial, had diminished his value in the eyes of the institute. He needed to reaffirm his worth as the “Star of Humanity” as soon as possible.

And so, he couldn’t help but silently will it to appear quickly.

The beautiful young man hesitated, then closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly upward. The golden sunlight, refracted through the shimmering seawater, cast a radiant crown upon his blond hair. His voice was pained and pleading:

“You have every right to resent me,”

Hill gambled on his performance, addressing the empty sea. “Last time was my fault. I wasn’t feeling well, but I still wanted to come to you, only to end up looking pathetic in front of you. Have you… have you stopped wanting to see me?”

Beneath the water, Asta’s eyes observed the young man’s expression, while his true form took on a human shape. His cold fingers slowly brushed over the black book, his dark eyes unblinking as they fixed on the pages. That intense gaze made the book’s spine prickle.

After some time of interaction, the World Consciousness was no longer as afraid of Asta—mainly because the monster behaved like a normal person around Isidor, even its tentacles turning soft. But there were still moments when the monster would inadvertently send a chill down its spine.

“His emotions seem genuine,” Asta’s voice floated lightly. “How should I put it? When the ‘Allure Halo’ was active, he was even more beautiful than now, but to me, human appearances make little difference.”

“Hill was an actor before coming to this world… Wait—”

The World Consciousness instantly sounded an alarm, nervously stiffening its spine as it checked whether it had completely removed the influence of the Allure Halo. Asta’s keen perception was unsettling—his fingers, almost tentacle-like, clung tightly to the book, even detecting its subtle changes:

“Don’t worry,” the monster said understandingly. “I know that system didn’t just affect appearances—it warped minds. That inescapable attraction is truly gone now. To me, every move he makes now is laced with ulterior motives. Perhaps humans can’t tell, but I see it clearly.”

“…” The black book fell silent for a moment before it couldn’t help but write: What do you see?

“Deceit.”

Asta closed the book and stood up. He knew he had kept Hill waiting long enough—it was time to appear. Otherwise, he might spook his prey and achieve the opposite of his goal.

Before leaving, however, he still offered the black book an explanation: “What I hate most is human deceit. Lies carry a scent, like a dark cloud shrouding words, filled with malice and hypocrisy. And I can read such emotions.”

The World Consciousness suddenly felt as if it had been struck by an arrow.

Indeed, there were moments when it harbored slight malice toward the future world-ending monster. Asta’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through it, laying bare all its secrets. If he was truly so perceptive, then why—

It knew every move the monster had made these past two days, knew the doubts that had flared up and been suppressed.

The black book lay quietly on the table. It had been shut, so it could no longer seek answers from Asta. But at least, for now, it could turn to the other member of the team. And this time, Isidor had absolutely no reason to ignore it.

*

Isidor glanced at the black book, hesitating before sighing.

“I didn’t expect you to be this excited about being a communication tool…”

The current situation wasn’t so much about Hill reclaiming Isidor’s position as it was about Isidor merely filling in as the administrator of Project Alpha while Hill was on leave. The research institute naturally wanted to leverage Hill’s abilities to extract information about the monster—that was the first reason. Even after all these years, despite confirming Isidor’s harmlessness, the institute still regarded him with wariness—that was the second reason.

After all, during his tenure as administrator, the monster had trusted only him, allowing him into its chamber. The higher-ups had repeatedly tried to pressure Isidor into bringing out more data or implementing new plans, but he had refused every time.

Once again cast aside, Researcher Isidor had completely lost his value in the eyes of the institute. But for now, he didn’t seem to care much. Isidor walked into the staff dormitory, closed the door behind him, and, as expected, spotted the black book on the shelf.

A bright, emerald light flickered in his eyes.

Asta had discussed it with him—he wouldn’t be able to enter the monster’s chamber for a while, but they still needed to stay in contact. That was when both the human and the monster thought of the black book. At least this time, the World Consciousness proved somewhat useful. It couldn’t transport physical objects, but relaying messages? That it could do.

Though it was reluctant to be used as a mere communication tool, the black book perked up when it realized Isidor could no longer pretend to ignore it. Sure enough, the human with those striking green eyes quickly pulled it from the shelf, laying it open on the desk. The ink on the pages looked as fresh as if it had just been written.

Asta’s handwriting wasn’t particularly neat—after all, it wasn’t human. The strokes resembled its tentacles, abnormally elongated, with occasional inexplicable twists and tangled loops:

“Everything is going well here. Don’t worry.”

It was the first morning of their separation, and nothing significant had happened yet, but Asta still felt compelled to leave a message for the human. After a moment of thought, it added:

“I hope you come back soon.”

Isidor’s English script, in contrast, was elegant—though not in a delicate, refined way. His writing was sharp and decisive, each stroke like the edge of a blade. A faint smile curled his lips as he studied the words on the page. He dipped his pen in ink and wrote:

“I miss you.”

After a brief pause, fresh ink bloomed on the paper:

“Me too.”

Isidor knew the monster was likely occupied with dealing with the “Chosen One” at this moment. Yet, it still took the time to reply—hastily, judging by the messier script, as if written with tangled tentacles. In truth, Asta was using a tentacle to grip the pen.

The human’s smile softened, his pupils shimmering with quiet delight.

“Next time we meet, I’ll bring you a cream bun,” he wrote. “Freshly baked, with a crispy crust. I’ll make up for all the ones you missed. No need to reply—focus on your own tasks.”

Even so, Isidor waited a little longer, just in case Asta had anything else to say. The black book shuttled back and forth between them, busily ferrying messages, and for once, it felt a rare sense of accomplishment. Asta waited eagerly for Isidor’s words, and Isidor, in turn, couldn’t wait to read its replies.

For the first time, the World Consciousness felt useful. All the past grievances of being ignored or dismissed were suddenly washed away.

This world isn’t so bad after all, the black book mused smugly, brainwashing itself. Not only is the progress self-sustaining, but the antagonist is polite, and now I’m even part of the team. Sure, it had always been the one to clean up the mess before, but that wasn’t really collaboration…

After waiting patiently and confirming Asta wouldn’t reply further, Isidor’s expression cooled. His gaze turned indifferent as he reached to close the book. The World Consciousness, having just begun to enjoy itself, suddenly panicked. It frantically erased the exchange between Asta and the human and scrawled two large words:

“WAIT!”

Isidor paused—though probably not because of the words.

His eyes lowered to the half-erased ink stains on the page, his emerald gaze turning icy. The black book, sensing danger, quickly restored the original messages.

Sure enough, the human’s expression softened. This time, he didn’t rush to close the book. Instead, he asked:

“Can I tear out this page?”

It was the first time Isidor had directly addressed the World Consciousness. The black book hesitated, then channeled its power. The page detached cleanly, the edges smooth, the writing perfectly preserved. Isidor gently traced the ink with his fingers before carefully tucking the sheet into a drawer, shielding the fragile paper inside an opaque folder.

Even if the World Consciousness had considered using these messages as leverage to force Isidor to cooperate, it knew he wasn’t the type to yield to threats. Better to play along obediently.

With the page safely stored, Isidor finally turned his full attention to the black book—as if only now acknowledging it as a living entity. He tapped the page lightly with his knuckle.

“I can guess what you want to say,” he murmured. “But you should know—my loyalty lies with it. Whatever it chooses to do, I won’t stand in its way.”

That much was true. Even when Isidor thought Asta had genuinely fallen for Hill, he hadn’t interfered.

“But,” the black book pressed, pinpointing the crux of the matter, “you still haven’t told it your true identity. You’ve chosen to keep deceiving it. ‘Kingfisher’ Isidor… if there’s anyone who can prevent humanity’s ruin, it’s you—”

“Ah.” Isidor sighed softly. “You’ve noticed.”

“The fate of every world is balanced. There’s no scenario where one side remains overwhelmingly powerful while the other stays weak. If this world has a monster beyond human comprehension, then, as compensation, humanity must produce a being of corresponding power.”

“If it’s the antagonist… then I was born to be its counterpart.”

Isidor’s eyes burned with an eerie intensity, the emerald in them almost aflame. “The institute hasn’t found a way to harm it yet. John’s abilities are still immature. That’s why you sought me out.”

“Yes. And precisely because of that—”

The black book hesitated, ink pooling before it finally wrote:

“Your power is steadily returning.”