HACKED 67

Let’s summarize.

In most rule-based ghost stories, there is a hidden trick. This is likely because something must be conveyed secretly without breaking the framework of the restrained and limited sentences of the rules. The same applies to these <Pantheon Survival Rules for Newbies>.

In such cases, there must be a clue to figure out that hidden trick. Even if it is not an overt hint, it must at least give an implication like, ‘Look carefully. There is something more beyond what is revealed on the surface.’ After all, aren’t there the Ten Commandments of Knox that must be followed when writing a mystery novel?

In the <Pantheon Survival Rules for Newbies>, this sentence is the core:

Perhaps it is because I am an Incarnation of the old era, but even though I know it is a superstition, I am reluctant to use ominous numbers regardless of the cultural sphere. I am more used to vertical writing than horizontal writing.

First, the number commonly considered ominous in the East is 4. Because its pronunciation is similar to the word for death (死). In the West, it would likely be 6 and 13. There are various lucky numbers like 3, 7, and 8, but those are not important now, so let’s move on.

The one who wrote these rules specifically mentioned that those numbers are avoided. If so, wouldn’t they have left the entries for those numbers blank? However, these rules are filled from number 1 to 15 without any missing numbers. This means someone inserted other entries, or the text itself has been contaminated.

Then, let’s categorize numbers 4, 6, and 13 as ‘fake’ for now. Number 14 is a bit ambiguous. 14 itself is not an ominous number, but it does contain a 4. However, this can be judged quickly by reading the content.

<The Drum that Sounds on its Own> has been alone all along and is still alone now. That Incarnation has no such thing as a younger sibling. For an Incarnation to have a family, it doesn’t make sense in the first place, right? Everything he says is a lie, so let it go in one ear and out the other.

‘Everything <The Drum that Sounds on its Own> says is a lie’… With this one sentence, the entire entry is negated. While not everything Ja-myeong-go said to me might be the truth, he did not only tell lies either.

And the next sentence.

I am more used to vertical writing than horizontal writing.

I scanned the main text of the rulebook vertically. Leaving aside the entries starting with numbers, if I read only the first letters of the paragraphs made of words…

‘The, mas, ter… It doesn’t make sense. Is my approach wrong?’

Suddenly, my gaze went to the very top of the rulebook. A single line just below the title, a common warning phrase I had passed over without much thought.

※ Caution: Do not speak of or leak these rules to others.

If I include this and read vertically.

‘The Master is fake and everything is strange.’

The answer was out.

“…”

The several pairs of eyes fixed on me were extremely—even more so than before—felt.

Come to think of it, I hear no sound of utensils clinking or water glasses being set down at all. Since when was it? When I received the rulebook from the model student? When the model student burst into tears? Or before that?

Those visible in my peripheral vision were still sitting in their respective seats. No different from when we first started the meal. No one craned their neck or peered over to try and peek at the rulebook.

That nonchalant behavior actually maximized their inhumanity. It might have been better if they had pushed in, asking what I was looking at so hard, what on earth was written there, or let’s look at it together.

The Master is fake—what could that mean? And what about everything being strange? But it felt like I shouldn’t ask hastily right now. So, I turned my gaze to the final sentence, pretending I hadn’t noticed a thing.

Once, I had a dream that proceeded from a third-person perspective rather than my own. From the time I lost consciousness after being suddenly attacked by San Gun until I was revived by the effect of the silver knife Ja-myeong-go gave me.

That dream faded rapidly as soon as I regained consciousness. So, I had forgotten it all this time. However, the moment I read the last entry of the rulebook, the memory was vividly revived.

If you meet unnie, tell her, ‘Yeon-i is falling into a long sleep now, but I will always exist within unnie’s heart, so there is no need to be sad.’ Thank you. And I’m sorry.

The formal character name of Hwarang sitting over there is <Hwarang of Half-Human Half-Ghost>. He has not told me any name other than that, and I haven’t particularly asked. However, I know that his ‘real name’ is ‘Bi-hyeong-rang’. Although I didn’t get confirmation from him, judging by his reaction at the time, it is likely correct.

If so… wouldn’t the other Incarnations, and even those whose names are not revealed in history or works, each have a ‘real name’? Like the ‘Yeon-i’ who must have written this rulebook.

“Ms. Ja-myeong-go.”

“Yes, Master.”

I took my eyes off the rulebook and lifted my head. Ja-myeong-go is looking at me with a face wearing a light smile.

“Yeon-i told me to tell you.”

Ja-myeong-go’s smile froze just as it was.

“Yeon-i is falling into a long sleep now, but she will always exist within unnie’s heart, so you don’t have to be sad…”

It was before I could even finish my words. A single tear dropped from Ja-myeong-go’s eyes, which were like an ink-and-wash painting elaborately depicted with a fine brush.

That one drop was only the beginning. Transparent streams flowed incessantly down her cheeks and chin.

The Incarnation named Ja-myeong-go, <The Drum that Sounds on its Own>, was inhuman. It is not because she was cruel, merciless, or cold-hearted. It is actually the opposite. Nevertheless, whenever I saw her, I got the impression she was closer to an ‘object in the shape of a person’ rather than a ‘person’.

But now, that inhumanity was broken. Her eyes, which always wore a textbook gentle smile, distorted, and the corners of her mouth trembled with the urge to cry. She looked like an entity that had jumped out of a painting and finally stepped foot into reality.

“Eh? Uh, uh…”

The model student flurried beside her. The kid pulled down the sleeve of her school uniform blouse and tried clumsily to wipe away Ja-myeong-go’s tears. It was the opposite situation of before.

It was exactly as written in the rulebook. <The Trumpet that Sounds on its Own> died. But before dying, she passed the silver knife to Ja-myeong-go, and thus could always exist within her unnie’s heart.

“I’m sorry. That silver knife, it was precious… but because I used it, it’s gone now.”

“It is alright. Because that child would have wished for it. If she knew the fact that her item saved the Master’s life, she would be happier than anyone.”

“…”

“Thank you. Truly, thank you.”

Ja-myeong-go smiled broadly, her eyes curving. The tears that had been welling in her eyes flowed down. I gave voice to a question that suddenly occurred to me.

“Are you all… not allowed to speak your ‘real names’? Even the names of Incarnations other than yourself?”

“…”

All movement stopped. It wasn’t just Ja-myeong-go. Every single Incarnation in this place was staring at me without even blinking. As if watching an actor who had made a blooper during filming.

Their faces, whose expressions could not be read. The following silence. It is suffocating.

“Yes. That is correct.”

It was Chirpy’s voice that broke the silence. He continued carefully, as if revealing a secret while glancing around here and there.

“An Incarnation is a representation. It is the realization and embodiment of a certain subject that exists within records or memories.”

“I know that much.”

“If I say, ‘Imagine a pencil,’ there will be an image of a pencil that comes to mind in Mr. Myeong’s heart. However, that is merely a representation created by the gathering of Mr. Myeong’s knowledge and experience, not a specific existing object. The result of expanding the subject of that ‘imagination’ to the whole of humanity is an Incarnation.”

“…So?”

“Incarnations must not have any name other than the name given when they descend. Because the moment uniqueness is created, universality is lost. Even if there is another name, they must not let the Compiler know or openly affirm it. That is an act of violating the contract between the Compiler and the Incarnation.”

Is ‘San Gun’, ‘Gumiho’, or ‘Twins’ okay while ‘Bi-hyeong-rang’ is not? Is that why when I called Hwarang ‘Bi-hyeong-rang’, he didn’t deny it but didn’t affirm it either?

“Let me give another example. Shall we say there is an Incarnation named <Ashy Girl Wearing Glass Slippers>. Most would realize the fact that she originated from the fairy tale ‘Cinderella’. However, this Incarnation is an aggregate of numerous versions from all over the world. In some versions she is ‘Cinderella’, but in others she is ‘Cenerentola’, and in some she might just be a nameless girl. That is why we do not call her ‘Cinderella’.”

“What happens if an Incarnation violates the contract and tells the Compiler their name?”

“Well… the one mentioned earlier has already passed away, so she wouldn’t be an accurate example… but I suspect they would lose their status as an Incarnation. It is just my guess, though.”

“Lose their status?”

I had heard something similar before. To be precise, was it ‘not even qualified to be called an Incarnation’?

“Incarnations are born and descend from the main stream of the narrative, and when they die, they return to fragments of narrative. So, even if they die, they don’t truly die. It is also the reason why Incarnations originating from the same motif can exist in countless forms in countless Pantheons.”

“…”

“However, the moment a Compiler calls an Incarnation by a specific name and the Incarnation acknowledges it, making the naming mutually established… that Incarnation becomes a unique entity bound to the Compiler by the shackle of a name. Then, they might not be able to return to fragments of narrative even after death.”

‘An Incarnation telling their real name is a breach of contract. If they breach the contract, they lose their status as an Incarnation as a price.’

Thinking about these two sentences in reverse… an assumption like this is also established. ‘If someone has lost their status as an Incarnation, that Incarnation must have committed a great sin equivalent to a breach of contract.’

“Chirpy. Let me ask one more thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Myeong.”

“Among the acts categorized as a breach of contract, are there others besides telling one’s real name?”

“Well. If it is to the point of receiving such a serious penalty…”

As if by coincidence, my eyes met San Gun’s. Like the other Incarnations, he too was looking at me persistently. But something… something that couldn’t be pinpointed by any words was different.

“Wouldn’t it be something like when they murder the Master? And not just attempting murder, but succeeding in killing them completely.”

I had an intuition. In the long game of Truth or Dare I had been playing until now, the most important answer had just come out.