NOVEL NEXT Chapter 209
209th Episode: Memories and Nightmares
At some point, I opened my eyes.
And as soon as I did, I doubted what I was seeing.
“…Uh, what? Mmm?”
Out of sheer bewilderment, I couldn’t help but blurt out three consecutive exclamations. It was that absurd.
Before me stretched an ordinary urban landscape from Korea—nothing more, nothing less.
“No… this can’t be.”
Roads stretching in all directions, paved with asphalt.
Glaring LED billboards and shop signs.
Once familiar faces of kimchi men with East Asian features, now rather strange to see, wearing modern fashion.
It was certain. This was the downtown area near the Suwon Hwaseong construction site where I had been living until just before I got run over by the reincarnation truck because of a pile of excrement.
“This is just… what the hell is going on?!”
Instinctively, I fumbled around my waist. It was a habit of mine to reach for my sword when I became anxious.
But my hands swung uselessly through the air. Only then, glancing down, did I notice that there was nothing at all on my waist.
“Wha… My, my cloak too?”
Not just the sword—my black wings aren’t here either.
The tattered pouch tied at my hip, along with the beginner’s leather backpack that had managed to survive with me this far, are gone too.
And the clothes I was wearing were different as well. Not the other-worldly clothes I kept replacing because they always turned to rags, but the brown shirt I was wearing when I died in Korea.
“Am I… dreaming?”
That’s it. A dream.
Upon reflection, there’s a reason why the world I ended up in was named “Nightmare.”
Which means, is this the dreamworld? Am I lying here, sprawled unconscious?
“But… it feels so… realistic.”
I clenched and stretched my hands, swung my arms, looked around, and even sniffed.
Everything feels real. Swinging my arms leaves a sting, pedestrians look unmistakably real, and the city’s unique mix of odors still hits my nose.
“Tch. What the hell is this…”
The nauseating familiarity of it all overwhelmed me, and just then, a familiar sound reached my ears.
The system notification from the Hero Support System.
[Quest Triggered (Epic)]
[Name: Sub-Quest – Removal of Nightmare Fragments]
[Difficulty: Legendary]
[Details: Those who seek to destroy the Witch’s Abyss are compelled to look into their own. Eliminate three ‘Nightmare Fragments’ hidden within the memories of ‘Park Jeong-yong,’ the dream’s host. As the witch awakens from a long nightmare, so too will the otherworldly nightmare recognize you as its true master.]
[Condition 1: Hunt ‘Nightmare Fragments’ (0/3) – Unfulfilled]
[Condition 2: Open a gate and escape from the nightmare within 24 hours – Unfulfilled]
[Reward: Instrument of Ruin – Acknowledged ownership of ‘Otherworldly Nightmare.]
Just a year ago, this stat panel seemed so magical and otherworldly, but now, finding myself unexpectedly back on Earth, there’s nothing quite as comforting as this panel.
The degree to which I, as a human, have become soaked in and corrupted by the other world truly fills me with sadness.
“But… what are these ‘Nightmare Fragments,’ anyway?”
Of course, sadness lasts only a moment. Soon enough, a colossal dilemma engulfs me.
Here I am, told to hunt three Nightmare Fragments in this dream world. But there’s no precise explanation of what these Nightmare Fragments actually are.
Typical of the system’s unhelpful nature—even in a dream, it doesn’t change.
“Well… so this is really a dream, right?”
Habit got the better of me again as I muttered under my breath, but I quickly clamped my mouth shut.
Living alone in the Otherworld often turned me into a Robinson Crusoe-like solo talker. But in modern society, such a habit earns you a mental illness label real quick.
“If this is truly a memory of mine… let me see…”
First off, I need to confirm the timeline. What year is it? What’s the date?
Since I often moved between Suwon and Pyeongtaek while doing odd jobs, the neighborhoods within the Huaseong urban area would vary depending on the time period.
“It’s chilly—must be winter.”
Winter in Suwon Huaseong helps narrow down the timeline. Except this isn’t exactly a pleasant memory.
Frowning, I began rummaging through my pockets immediately.
“Let’s see… got it.”
In the left pants pocket, I found a phone.
The phone itself doesn’t necessarily indicate the timeline, since I frequently swapped it out due to rough handling.
“Ah! This phone…”
The white smartphone fit snugly into my palm brought back a familiar memory.
It’s associated with one of the top three legendary events of Park Jeong-yong’s life in Korea: ‘the Roommate Phone Theft Incident.’ This was the phone I was forced to replace afterward.
Verifying it, I unlocked the screen and checked the date on the calendar.
[December 24, 2018]
[11:30 AM]
“Just as I suspected.”
Sure enough, this is the winter of 2018.
This must be about two years before I hopped on the Rebirth Truck Express to the River Jordan.
“Got into a big brawl with the team leader back when I was working on plumbing in Pyeongtaek…”
I don’t remember what exactly I fought with the foreman over.
He was a psychopath who was the universal enemy anyway, so there are too many possibilities.
In any case, I remember moving to a place where they compensated for food and lodging despite the harsh working conditions after my roommates in the dorm schemed to steal my phone.
“Let’s see if I could visit my old place.”
At the time, this was one of the few instances I lived alone, and I can still vividly recall the geography of the place where I stayed.
“Right about here.”
I stopped in front of a dingy building perched at the entrance of a dark and narrow alley.
Its name is “Hope Villa,” but its actual look is closer to “Twisted Netherworld Villa”—a decrepit, dilapidated building.
I remember it well; the only people living there were dungeon mob-like beings, including myself.
“Room 301, was it…?”
As soon as people stopped milling around, soliloquizing slipped out naturally once more—it is indeed a terrifying habit.
I slowly punched in the four-digit PIN code in front of the Room 1 on the third floor. For as long as I could remember, I had been using my father’s birthday as the default password, and my fingers hit the buttons without hesitation.
—Bleep, bloop.
A cheerful electronic sound unlocked the door. I slowly opened it and entered.
And then, as I stepped inside the entrance, I suddenly froze mid-step.
“Why is the light… on?”
It was unmistakably my own place, but the light was on despite my absence.
I immediately felt a sense of wrongness and spotted someone standing right in the middle of the one-room apartment.
For a moment, I stopped breathing entirely.
“What is this…?”
A dream within a dream? Or a manifestation of my subconscious?
There stood a man with a broad smile, quietly staring at me. I slowly approached him, addressing him.
“What’s so funny, father? Let me in on the joke.”
Inside the room, the man was no other than my father.
He sat on the edge of the bed, with an almost forgotten smile on his face, and began chiding me in his usual, unhurried tone of voice.
“Boy, what’s this, huh? Your room looks like a pigsty or what? If you keep living like this, you’re going to get sick.”
He pointed to various messy corners of the room.
I chuckled awkwardly. Partly because it wasn’t entirely wrong, and partly because it was funny seeing someone who lived messily himself lecture me about it.
‘This must be what a Nightmare Fragment is.’
The reason I chuckled mostly was the realization.
I naturally ambled over to the adjacent kitchen tucked away next to the room, shuffling along as I rummaged through the dusty shelves and struck up a light conversation with my father.
“What are you doing here?”
“Since you moved, did I not even come for a housewarming party? Living a hard life, I see.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
Finally, after too long, I located it. The kitchen and this place felt foreign, having been unused for too long.
From the kitchen shelf, I took out a kitchen knife and immediately held it up high toward the figure pretending to be my father.
“Who exactly are you, pretending to be my father? Dad has been deceased for years.”
In a single bound, I charged toward the figure after kicking off the floor with great force.
The supreme physical body of the Otherworld was nowhere to be found, and my body now was heavy like a waterlogged sponge. The movement felt completely unnatural.
But my speed was still enough to surprise him, as he was caught off guard.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Jung Yong?!”
The figure (formerly resembling my father) tried to speak, confused. But it was in vain.
Pook. The kitchen knife plunged effortlessly into the figure’s belly. His eyes widened in disbelief instantly, staring at me incredulously.
“How… how could you… understand…”
Just as the figure seemed to be playing to my emotions, trying to make me feel guilty for his betrayal.
Snick. The corners of the mouth stretched unnaturally wide, revealing sharp teeth hidden underneath.
—Unbelievable. What a surprise, Master of Dreams, that you recognized my disguise right away. I was so meticulous about this transformation.
Zzzt. The figure’s form began to dissolve.
The human skin melted away, turning into a writhing pile of darkness. All that remained was a formless, pitch-black monster, grotesque with a gaping maw full of sharp teeth.
The monster cackled incessantly, its laughter full of amused delight.
—Your inner world is extraordinarily complex. You’ve gone to such lengths to seek the presence of something that should have never existed in the first place, while fully denying its existence in reality. It’s bewildering, even to me, that my illusionary magic has been rejected this thoroughly.
Apparently, he had used some sort of illusion magic.
Even knowing that my father had passed away long ago, this magic would have prevented me from feeling any sense of wrongness upon seeing him right in front of me—a hypnotic spell of sorts.
I muttered under my breath.
“Shut your trap and die. You make me feel nauseous.”
I twisted the knife I had thrust into the monster’s gaping mouth with a grinding motion.
But it didn’t seem to have any effect at all. The monster continued laughing without a break.
—Yearning for your father to be alive and yet rejecting the possibility of him existing in your world. Such contradictions are quite fascinating.
I heard this was some kind of illusionary magic.
It was a type of hypnosis intended to make it seem utterly normal for the deceased father to appear before me.
I said quietly.
“Shut up and vanish. You’re starting to make me feel sick.”
Spin, spin, spin.
I continuously turned the knife I had thrust into the black creature, but it didn’t seem to damage it at all. This time I tried jabbing it repeatedly, but the reaction was the same.
The pitch-black monster only laughed louder, clearly entertained by my reaction.
—Heh heh heh. Don’t lose your cool, Master of Dreams. This is a fictional world built on your memories. Getting mad at the creator won’t get you anywhere.
“…”
As irritating as it is, he seems to be right. The monster may have a point—irritatingly rational for a monster.
I let go of the knife and glared at it with sheer annoyance.
Zzzt. The monster wiggled around, emitting its characteristic grinding noises, then began to slowly seep into the floor beneath it.
—The first one fell too easily compared to my expectations. The next two won’t be as simple. Heh heh heh.
With a cliché villain line, the monster disappeared completely.
It’s typical for the first of the supposedly four Heavenly Kings to declare himself the weakest.
‘Alright, so what about the quest?’
Exhausted, I threw myself onto the bed. But soon the problematic quest panel reappeared in front of me.
[Notification – You have hunted a Nightmare Fragment]
[Condition 1: ‘Nightmare Fragments’ Hunt (1/3) – Unfulfilled]
Hunting down one successfully triggered this update.
Indeed, the black monster in the guise of my father was one of the Nightmare Fragments I needed to hunt.
“I long for desperately but can never have…”
I mulled over the clue the Nightmare Fragment had accidentally dropped.
One of the things was my father—this realization only made me clench my brows in displeasure.
I was exhausted. As I lay down in the bed, I felt like I could drift to sleep immediately, but then I remembered something.
‘There’s no time.’
There’s a clear 24-hour time limit in this nightmare.
Today in the dream is Christmas Eve, late at night. That means until Christmas ends tomorrow, I’d have to face two more creatures as disgusting as the one that masqueraded as my father.
“Hmph. Let’s go.”
I grabbed a well-sharpened sushi knife and left the room with steady steps.
I aimlessly wandered around the alleys near my old house.