“Ahhhhhhh!!!”

  The man beside him, the one with the vertical scar running down his face, screamed in pure panic. The sheer volume of that cry seemed to snap the madman back to his senses, because he suddenly broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Please! Make it stop! I-I can’t handle it anymore. Use that damn thing already!”

  Watching the scene unfold, a heavy knot formed in Lucian’s stomach.

  “Ahhh!!”

  Another scream echoed through the dark, empty hall. And then another. It didn’t stop for a long time.

  Judging by the sound, it came from a curly-haired woman seated alone in one of the front rows.

  “I can’t take it anymore! I can’t take it anymore!” she wailed. “Something… something is inside my—”

  Her voice cut off abruptly, replaced by a wet, disgusting choking sound, followed by retching and vomiting.

  From his limited view, Lucian saw the woman tilt her head back toward the ceiling as a black, rotting finger slowly emerged from her mouth.

  The finger soon became a hand, then another, forcing their way out like a grotesque plant. As they fully formed, the hands wrapped around her neck, choking her mercilessly. She wasn’t even given the chance to scream as death came for her.

  Lucian’s stomach lurched. He wanted to puke, but terror sealed his lips shut.

  ‘What the hell is going on? Isn’t it supposed to only make people commit suicide? Why is there a literal hand inside someone?’ Lucian cursed inwardly.

  Then, without warning, another man from the front seats stood up. He sprinted toward the wall and began slamming his head against it repeatedly.

  Lucian’s heart tightened further when, suddenly, the music stopped, ending with a rough, distorted echo of the violin.

  “Finally… the first performance ended,” the scar-faced man said, letting out a long, frantic sigh.

  “Everyone,” he shouted, rushing toward the man smashing his head, “we have three minutes to use the item.”

  He restrained the man and forced him to drink something, which gradually calmed the frenzy in his eyes.

  Lucian exhaled shakily and sank deeper into his seat.

  ‘I thought I was going to die.’

  He touched the headband, the very thing that had allowed him to resist the madness. Some of its fabric had torn away, leaving it noticeably thinner.

  ‘I doubt it’s going to last much longer.’

  He observed the others. All of them had suffered immense psychological damage. Out of the six, three had nearly died.

  ‘It seems they have some strange medicine to reduce the effects of madness, but can't use it beforehand.’

  The man who had eaten his own fingers wrapped a cloth tightly around the bleeding stubs, three fingers were gone.

  Next was the curly-haired woman. The hands that had emerged from her mouth had vanished, as if they were never there, leaving behind trauma that would likely last a lifetime.

  As for the third man, the one with the fat nose and narrow eyes who had been smashing his head, he appeared to have suffered the least among them.

  The scar-faced man, clearly their leader, moved among them, counseling and issuing instructions.

  Then, in perfect unison, all of them turned their gaze toward Lucian.

  "Uh… Hey, we all were together during this play,’ he mocked inwardly.

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  “So,” the fingerless man said, “what do we do with this guy?”

  “Later. Time is running out,” the scar-faced man replied.

  While two among them kept watch over Lucian, the remaining four approached the Unread, who was preparing for its next song.

  Though they were close enough for the Unread to affect them, the violinist seemed to see nothing but its instrument.

  As they drew nearer, the scar-faced man took out a black box, no larger than his palm. He opened it and placed it directly in front of the Unread.

  ‘Are they stupid… or is that an artifact?’ Lucian wondered.

  As the time for the next performance arrived, the Unread took a deep breath.

  ‘Again?’

  The sound that had driven Librarians into madness rang out once more. Lucian clenched his teeth, hoping his headband would endure.

  But as the melody filled the hall, all Lucian felt was a slight headache, like waking up groggy from an afternoon nap.

  ‘Eh? That item is weakening the Unread’s music.’

  “Hahaha!”

  The scar-faced man laughed, the others joining him.

  “Finally,” he said. “Although the Broken Brooch requires the user to first experience the ability, once it’s activated, its power never disappoints.”

  ‘I see,’ Lucian realized. ‘That means I’m their next target.’

  As if confirming his thoughts, the scar-faced man glanced at Lucian with disgust and ordered the two guards to kill him immediately, while he himself moved to secure the Unread.

  ‘This is bad. If they obtain the Unread, I’ll fail the test.’

  Lucian gripped the handle of the old kitchen knife, steadying his resolve.

  At that moment, the entire grand hall began to reverberate with a strange new melody.

  “Wh-what is happening?” someone cried.

  ‘This is…’

  Lucian recalled the document detailing the Unread’s abilities. In its third recorded usage, those who died in its presence produced strange sounds from their bodies.

  ‘I-I think the Musician of Despair can record its music in objects and play it later,’ Lucian realized, and so did the six.

  The walls, the windows, the seats, the spotlights, everything became a source of sound.

  Yet unlike before, the effect didn’t drive people to brutal suicide.

  Lucian suddenly fell from his seat, struggling to stand. When he finally managed to rise, he collapsed again.

  ‘It’s like I’ve lost my sense of balance.’

  His upside-down gaze swept across the hall.

  The curly hair moved like a puppet, as though her body no longer obeyed her. Others showed similarly abnormal movements.

  ‘This music affects everyone differently.’

  As Lucian searched for a way to stand, a shadow loomed over him.

  A slender man stood before him, his jaw hanging unnaturally loose, tongue lolling out.

  ‘His jaw’s lost all strength,’ Lucian noted grimly, almost envious.

  Lucian jolted, twisting his body so his back faced the floor.

  Despite the strange afflictions, most of the others were still able to move, except the finger-eater, who stood with his head upside down.

  ‘Maybe my luck isn’t that terrible.’

  The man with the broken jaw approached. From his open palm, a Codex materialized. In his other hand, a ring of fire formed.

  Fire!

  Lucian’s pupils constricted as memories surged, his burning home, that fiery night, the Unread that had chased him.

  “Hehehe… sou gotta dai…” the man muttered, his mangled mouth producing only gibberish.

  Lucian tightened his grip on the knife, though it offered him no comfort.

  ‘Damn it. I’m going to die.’

  ‘I’m a complete failure.’

  ‘I couldn't even keep my promise.’

  Memories flashed through his mind, but instead of fear, he saw his sister, his father, all smiling peacefully.

  ‘No. I can’t die. Not yet.’

  As the man advanced with the ring of fire, murmuring, “Nu at me fir—”

  Lucian leapt like a frog, ignoring balance entirely. Midair, he drove the kitchen knife into the man’s neck.

  The blade sliced through skin and muscle before stopping against the cervical spine.

  Lucian slammed his other hand onto the handle, forcing the knife through.

  Blood sprayed like a fountain as he ripped the blade free.

  Lucian didn’t flinch, even as blood splattered his face. Only one thought echoed in his mind.

  ‘I killed a man. For the first time.’

  Yet he felt no guilt, only acceptance.

  ‘I will kill them all.’

  *****

  Amidst the corrupting song, the remaining five heard a strange sound, like water leaking with pressure, followed by the heavy stench of blood.

  They turned back to see their companion dead.

  Beside the corpse lay a young man with black hair and blue eyes, dressed in cheap boots, black trousers, a white shirt, and an unbuttoned waistcoat.

  He lay flat on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, devoid of emotion, while their companion’s blood soaked through his white shirt.

  *****

  ‘Damn it… how can I survive and take the Unread?’

  When Lucian looked ahead, he saw the scar-faced man standing directly in front of him.

  But instead of fury, the man laughed.

  “Hehehe… someone in this condition. You're quite interesting.”

  Lucian stared back at him. Under the influence of the music, his hair stood on end.

  ‘Damn it.’

  Lucian braced himself for another frog-like leap, though a sense of inevitable failure weighed heavily on him.

  Then he heard the music shift.

  In an instant, his balance returned, and he stood upright with ease.

  He examined his body, searching for any new abnormality, but found none.

  ‘Is it internal? Did one of my organs grow something abnormal?’

  He pushed the thought aside and focused on his opponent. The scar-faced man’s hair had returned to normal, though lingering effects remained, most notably, his right eye was tightly shut.

  ‘Lucky bastard.’

  At that moment, Lucian’s right arm began to twitch.

  The faint tremor escalated rapidly.

  Suddenly, his arm’s muscles contracted violently. His limb twisted into an impossible angle. Bones cracked. Flesh tore. Blood burst through the ruptured skin as the arm contorted grotesquely.