No Dark Secrets In This Book

Episode 131

‘No one in this room can take the story outside.’

I remember the goblin putting a strange emphasis on ‘person’ when it said that. The words of a powerful being, no matter how strange or frivolous they may seem, should never be taken lightly one by one.

Saying that no person can take the story outside means, conversely, that ‘something that is not a person’ can take it out.

The declarations of great beings were more similar in nature to legal articles that could lead to big trouble if misinterpreted, rather than everyday speech that could be taken at face value.

All the people here now have lost their memories. But I haven’t. My memory is intact. Then the conclusion is simple. I am not a person.

I am not a person…

A subtle smile formed on my face with a strangely familiar feeling. For some reason, there is a slightly stinging aftertaste, but it’s a basically familiar and longing feeling.

Of course, it doesn’t mean that I’m not of the human species. How could I be a monster or a ghost? But I remembered.

‘…To be acknowledged by others like this.’

The familiar and longing feeling spreading in my heart gradually, slowly spread. Meanwhile, the scary stories continued. One person spoke and everyone listened to their wounds, and the next moment the other kids all lost their memories. Everyone saw that. They all began to comfortably and specifically spill their own stories.

“Actually, I…”

Hae Yuna, who had been anxious since the start of this challenger group trauma therapy session, seemed to be relieved when she couldn’t remember the fact that Lee Hyang had told a nonsensical ancestral rites ghost story. Hae Yuna comfortably talked about her childhood story of unfortunately witnessing her parents being murdered, and later sobbed. People handed tissues to Hae Yuna and then forgot everything. When the next turn came, people were again shocked by Capone’s desperate life and then forgot. All they remembered was the fact that they sincerely empathized with and felt sorry for Capone. They also forgot the fact that Capone had cried out in anguish. Even the fact that Capone ended it with a bit of embarrassment but perhaps a little relief, all of it.

People reacted in their own ways to the pressure Diedrich received. They empathized or didn’t empathize in their own ways.

Again, all they remembered was what they felt about Diedrich, that’s it.

‘I’m the only one who remembers everything.’

It felt strange. The stories that piled up one by one, the memories that piled up one by one, all engraved it in me. That I am not a person. Although it wasn’t this blatant, that truth, which was always familiar to the point of being missed, piled up in a corner of my heart.

Finally, it was Logan’s turn.

“My sister almost died because of me.”

He’s the guy I went as far as doing stupid things like penalties to try to figure out. What story will he tell? Logan talked about his sister who almost died, and his guilt about not knowing anything about his sister. The stories I just heard were the most intimate lives of the three traitors. The deepest and most fundamental wounds. And the moment you understand the other person, it becomes quite awkward to thoughtlessly curse at them.

At least that’s how I felt.

‘I asked to hear weaknesses.’

I tried to hear weaknesses that would strangle the neck, grasp the throat, and even stab deep into the heart.

I ended up unintentionally understanding a few lives.

However, I didn’t dwell too much on sentiments. The emotions were too deep to fully immerse myself in and care about each and every one. Some guys seemed to just choose to fall deeply into other people, but for some reason, my stomach churned…

While looking at everyone, the stories continued. The person who started this time was the senior. Unlike his usual expression that couldn’t think of anything, this time with a deep longing seeping out.

“I had a one-sided love… She had a really beautiful smile. But recently I became unable to meet her at all, so I wanted to die many times. But I’ll keep waiting…”

One by one, the turns are gradually coming back. Since I’m the last one, that means my turn is getting closer and closer.

‘For some reason, my heart is pounding.’

Why am I excited to tell my story? Because I polished my story well while everyone was telling theirs? Because I’m confident I can tell it in an extremely fun way? Because this isn’t actually a story about wounds, but just a fun memory?

‘I don’t know.’

Anyway, I’m definitely excited. No, am I nervous and scared? But can’t your heart pound like this even when you’re excited? There’s no way you’d be scared just telling this measly story.

Although I can’t figure out the reason why I’m ‘excited’ just to tell this kind of story.

The ninth person finished.

“…That’s all for my story.”

Finally, it was my turn.

Everyone focused their attention on me. Most of the faces looking at me had tear stains dried on their own faces. Those tears were shed for themselves, and some shed them for others as well. More than half seemed to have shown tears while listening to other people’s stories.

‘Well, challengers aren’t the type to go to something like a therapy session even once.’

Because they’re all very wary.

The random people I forcibly caught and threw into the room seemed to have already built some kind of bond. Even if they couldn’t remember anything. The goblin seemed to have only taken away the memories, not the emotions. Emotions were honest and easy to spread. One person felt another person’s emotions and thus could leave a trace in their own memory of somehow understanding the other person. They had already significantly eased their hostile atmosphere toward each other.

So the gazes looking at me were, surprisingly,

‘They don’t seem like curiosity…’

Cassice Demillang. The young head of the Demillang clan. A person who has achieved tremendous feats, as they call it. What could be the most miserable, wretched, desperate, and lamentably unstoppable event for such a person? Surely at first, such curiosities were seen. That was no different from the attitude of consuming celebrity gossip.

‘Or even more vulgar.’

So when I declared the ‘scariest story’, I felt like I was surrounded by hyenas. For someone like me, those measly hyenas can all be killed and gotten rid of, but that’s unpleasant, right?

‘Because they see me as prey.’

How dare they, out of line.

Surely there were those who did that, but not now. The eyes of everyone here looking at me were not the eyes of hyenas. They weren’t hyenas looking at food and licking their chops. Perhaps…

‘Are they the eyes looking at a person?’

It’s a crazy thought, but this came to mind. The eyes looking at a person. Not looking at me as some famous person, a cool person, a person to be revered, a person to be jealous of, but looking at me with eyes that see me as a person who will now talk about pain.

For some reason, I was no longer excited to tell this story. Is this excitement? Fear? Terror? Anxiety? Looking at those countless eyes, those eyes ready to empathize with me, I was gripped by this strange emotion.

‘Something is wrong.’

I just wanted to leave here. I wished they were hyenas instead. I wished there were a bunch of people smirking and thinking, let’s just hear what Cassice Demillang’s story is.

“Start your story.”

When I remained silent for a long time, the goblin politely urged me.

Right. Let’s start ‘my story’. This is ‘my’ story. I’m going to earn mission allowance with this story. Because I prepared this story excitedly, because I worked hard on the production in my own way, let’s start.

The being that was not a person, who had stored all nine stories in memory, spoke.

“Long ago, there was a great-grandfather. The great-grandfather had a cherished granddaughter, but after losing her early, his mind became forgetful…”

“…”

“And then, luckily, a great-grandson who looked just like his granddaughter was born.”

Everyone focused on me. Suddenly, I thought that there were so many gazes. Perhaps I had never imagined that there would be so many listeners to this story. Because this story suited an empty square with no one around. But there are ten people listening to my story. Ten people. Those who will forget everything anyway.

I began ‘my story’. The great-grandfather from long ago, and next to him was…

Jeong Ian was there.