NOVEL NEXT chapter 53
“You mean you can’t leave the Ark?”
—That’s right. Hyde left something with me. Said I mustn’t let anyone take it, no matter what. Jekyll Jack won’t be able to move either. Whatever Hyde told him, he’s been trapped inside his own body for days now. You know—if Ji Woojae doesn’t give up control, Jekyll Jack can’t come out.
“Woojae-hyung isn’t letting him have the body? He wouldn’t do that for no reason… You don’t know why?”
Ji Woojae was the other personality living inside Jekyll Jack. But if one had to name the true owner of that body—it would be Ji Woojae, the one who’d been there first. So if Woojae didn’t allow it, Jekyll Jack couldn’t appear.
—Jekyll Jack seems to know something, but since he can’t come out, he’s just fuming inside. I tried talking to Woojae, but he panicked and ran from me—hah, useless. Can’t get a word through. So right now, neither Jack nor I can make a single move.
That meant the only one left was… Phantom Thief Kill. Though he cherished his siblings, Kill always prioritized Hyde’s orders, believing that was the only way to preserve “In the Hell.”
“What about Phantom Thief Kill? Is he with Hyde now?”
—You’re not seriously thinking of going to Hyde, are you? Don’t, boy. Why march straight into a tiger’s den? There’s nothing good waiting for you there. Especially now, when ghostly energy is gathering around Mount Bugak—it’s an ominous time.
Mother hurried to end the conversation. Uichan suspected she was hiding something more. He was about to ask again when the bird suddenly flapped its wings and took off.
—Wait here for a moment. I’ll go find you something to wear. After that, we’ll head to my Ark.
Before Uichan could reach out, the bird vanished into the dense forest. Once Mother was gone, only the chirping of mountain birds echoed faintly within the high walls. Uichan sat on the veranda, lost in thought.
“Ghostly energy gathering on Mount Bugak…”
That meant a high chance of a Dongti being born. A chill crawled down his chest as he rubbed it a few times. The unease settled heavy in his gut.
If—by any chance—Hyde meant to kill Blacktan and Noatis.
“That can’t… happen.”
Uichan hurried back inside and began searching for anything he could wear. He planned to leave before Mother Ship returned. He moved from room to room, checking the next one. It was as though the house had been built to prevent escape: no doors in the outer walls, no spare clothes, no shoes.
Then it happened.
Throb—.
A dull ache spread through his abdomen, and Uichan sank onto the wooden porch. When he pressed a hand to his belly, he felt a soft bubbling movement inside. Not pain, exactly.
“…What is it, hungry?”
He gently rubbed his flat stomach and asked softly. But before he could finish the words, something leapt over the wall. A small shadow fell across the garden.
“A fox…?”
Murmuring in disbelief, Uichan stared as the fox twitched its haunches, then leapt down gracefully in front of him. It dropped the clothes at his feet and vanished again. Uichan quickly stooped to check the bundle on the ground.
“There are shoes, too?”
Inside the bundle, a pair of shoes was tied up with the clothes. They looked worn, as though taken from the village at the foot of the mountain.
A fox, of all things…
And it had brought exactly what he needed, exactly when he needed it. Staring at the bundle, Uichan’s gaze drifted back to his belly. The stiffness he’d felt earlier was gone, completely.
“…It was you two, wasn’t it? You did that?”
An Ability to commune with animals, perhaps—or maybe hypnosis. Another one of the babies had awakened an Ability. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this strange event.
In the end, he just let out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. As long as they grew up healthy, what did it matter?
Uichan began putting on the clothes the fox had brought. There was no time to think it over. He tied the loose shoelaces tight on the oversized sneakers and folded the sleeves of the baggy shirt several times.
Then he glanced down at the inside of his wrist, where a faint white thorn pattern was drawn.
—Mr. Uichan, please keep this secret. Use it only if you’re in a truly dangerous situation where none of your brothers can reach you. It will connect you to wherever you wish to go, no matter the time or place. And please—never let Hyde know about it.
It was a trick Phantom Thief Kill had given him long ago, a safeguard for when danger struck. Remembering the refined gentleman’s winking smile, Uichan clenched his fist.
He gently peeled off the pattern, and a small card slipped out. Tossing it onto the ground, he watched as it fluttered down—and the instant it touched the soil, it expanded in a flash.
In the middle of the quiet garden, a massive wooden door stood alone.
Creak—.
He grasped the handle and pulled. Beyond it stretched a black, weightless void.
Uichan turned once to look behind him. While searching the mansion for clothes, he’d realized something: everything in this house existed in pairs. Two spoons, two bowls, even the bedding and pillows came in twos.
This mansion, shaped by Hyde’s tastes, must have been long prepared. As he walked through, he could feel it—the sense that someone had been waiting a long time to live here together with someone else. That someone, he realized, was probably him.
So he couldn’t bring himself to leave coldly.
“I’ll come back. See you later.”
Clutching his clothes tightly, Uichan stepped into the open doorway. As the door closed behind him, it collapsed like a mirage and scattered into the air.
***
Where he emerged was deep within a wooded mountain, lush with trees and vegetation. It had to be Mount Bugak. Which meant Phantom Thief Kill and Hyde were nearby.
He stopped and surveyed the forest around him—it looked different from usual. The trees that once stood tall were now shredded and flattened, and at the end of the ruined path loomed a massive shadow, exuding a sinister aura.
Uichan slowly raised his gaze to follow it—and there it was.
A colossal tree.
“……”
And that wasn’t the only strange thing. The whole area was eerily silent. Following the torn-up trail, Uichan stepped cautiously forward. Then, suddenly—an explosion ripped through the air.
KWAANG—!
He jerked his head up. Thick, sooty smoke billowed high into the sky. Sprinting toward the sound, Uichan soon came upon a sight that defied belief.
It looked like a scene torn straight from an ancient ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) ritual. Multicolored silk banners hung from the trees, and before them stood a crude wooden altar. On the rough altar were three severed heads.
One beast’s. One human’s. And the last—
“A goblin…?”
The blue-horned goblin’s corpse, eyes rolled white in death, was grotesque and chilling. Piled around the altar were carcasses of beasts and monsters—so mangled it was impossible to tell what they’d once been. The stench of blood was nauseating.
The explosion had come from the center of it all. A dozen goblins milled about the clearing, looking around in panic.
They had been ambushed. Nearby, one screamed as he crawled, leg torn clean off.
“Who did this, damn it! My leg!”
“Guard the relic first!”
The goblins barked orders at each other. Uichan’s eyes fixed on the one running toward the altar stacked with heads. There, sealed with a knot, sat a wooden box—familiar in shape. His instincts flared and he started forward.
But before he could reach it—
BOOM—!
Another explosion engulfed the clearing. Ash swirled everywhere as goblins were blown apart, rolling across the ground. Amid the smoke, crimson petals began to drift through the air—Phantom Thief Kill’s Ability.
“I wondered what grand performance you were setting up, but it turns out to be this pitiful display. There’s not a shred of aesthetic in this stage.”
Hovering above, Phantom Thief Kill swung his cane. A gale swept over the petals, engulfing the goblins. Whatever the petals touched was ground into powder—bodies shredded and reduced to bloodied dust.
“Let me teach you something. This crude, vulgar production could use a real spectacle.”
Phantom Thief Kill was the “Thief Who Steals Performances.” He stole dazzling, magnificent shows—and always claimed the finale for himself. Among magicians, he was a legend. Every performance he stole became more valuable, and those who’d seen his stage even once spoke of it with awed admiration.
But his performances were not merely massacres. He stole hearts as well as shows—captivating audiences who came in pure curiosity, sometimes even presenting surprises of his own creation.
And so, any insult to art itself—any desecration of performance—was the switch that made Phantom Thief Kill lose control.