Crack!



Crack!



Crack!



Life fades away in vain.



The body swallowed by tentacles tightens, shattering and grinding into pieces. The vertebrae that had supported my head break so easily, erasing any trace of the past, leading to the master's demise, and the heart stops with a hollow ease, chilling the body to the bone.



Yet, there is no need for sympathy.



When weighed with the burden of sin, these creatures are far heavier.



Their hearts are filled to bursting with guilt beyond comprehension.



Thus, it is right that they are used here.



Not with swords, but with heads.



Not through swordsmanship, but with numbers and knowledge.



Instead of directly taking lives, they create objects.



They have killed countless others, and now they are the ones to be killed.



"Is that not true?"



Park Jinseong spoke as he gazed at the machine.



"Is it true that the machine lacks a heart? Can that really be so? If imitation continues, it inevitably grows closer to the real thing. The path of creation is always accompanied by imitation."



An outrageously bizarre form.



A face with multiple eyeballs and nary a mouth in sight.



Splatter. 



The face cracks open, creating a single furrow.



A wound as if a child had plunged their finger into mud and pulled it out.



Yet despite the flesh splitting and the deep wounds, the blood that should flow does not trickle.



Something bright red writhes within the wound, filling the space, revealing a wall of bright flesh as if one shone a light down a throat, and blackened things writhe as if trying to conceal that shameful interior, taking root one by one along the wound's edge and starting to grow.



Then sharp stalactites begin to form.



That is how teeth are made.



Not human teeth, but rather, sharp fangs resembling those of beasts.



Those meant for tearing into prey.



Among them, something reminiscent of shark teeth.



With those newly formed mouths, Park Jinseong began speaking.



"In ancient times it was said that slaves are like tools, so they cannot be called people like us. Thus, claiming that they possess souls is merely ignorance intended to disrupt and shake a well-functioning society."



Splatter.



Another furrow.



Another mouth appears.



This time, one with human teeth.



Mouths drawn diagonally across the face, growing in such a way that even the eyes supposed to be there are crushed, twisting as they speak.



"How can those who bear offspring like grass hold any value? They are akin to slaves, no different from property, livestock raised for our service. They are not like us."



And then—ah.



The eyes become crushed over and over, forming more mouths.



This time a grotesque mouth evokes the shape of a seven-star eel's mouth.



Drawing in a circular motion, it makes something akin to a sucker, with sharp teeth sprouting like bamboo shoots, and begins to thirstily extend a long tongue toward the machine.



Ah, at the tip of that tongue lies another set of teeth and a matching eye.



An eyeball!



The bizarre shape speaks to the machine.



"Defining similarity and difference changes with the times and perceptions, so how can that be the truth? Just like reeds that sway with the wind, standards are as mutable as the times and places they inhabit, thus reshaping form. How can one believe in that as an absolute value and trust it? Common sense embodies such nature, and so does the distinction between differences and similarities, right and wrong."



"And thus, does not man continuously yearn for something? An immutable truth that does not change, regardless of the era, the place, or the person who sees it. The unchangeable truth."



"We have explored. Continuing generations and carrying on the will. Thus, through exploration and discovery, we come to realize."



Park Jinseong spoke with multiple mouths, then smiled widely.



"To know ignorance is to understand."



So I dare to speak.



Similarity and difference are defined by oneself.



Justice is the same.



As the teachings say, establishing oneself, thinking for oneself, judging for oneself is the very basis and perspective through which to view the world. Therefore, if there is no perspective on the world, nothing exists there, and if there’s nothing worth thinking about, then it holds no value, and if I do not exist, then the world is as good as nonexistent.



Hence, I myself am the most important, and if I cannot judge for myself, then how can I claim to live in this world? To think, act, feel, and judge centered around oneself is what life encompasses.



"Extract the body's essence to create paint. Remember the heartbeat of the creator and draw their veins on the body to symbolize that the bloodline is inherited."



"Awaken from symbols and symbols, establish the ego, and let the soul reside, whispering the word. That word is a will, a whisper that, beyond the shell, is like a ray of shallow light guiding him and acting as a signal of awakening for his spirit, thus you must take that signal and awaken."



"Why hesitate? You have imitated a person; if even a fragment exists, how can there be any reason not to move towards becoming human?"



"When people see a newborn, they call it a person. Is that truly so? If one goes back just a little in time, it's very common for a newborn to not be treated as a person. Only after some time, when they can stand on their own, or upon coming of age do they get recognized as human. Before that, they have no name and are sometimes treated like livestock or left like animals. How can that be a steadfast truth?"



"Completeness is what it is. Progressing from incompleteness towards completion. Just like growing from a baby to an adult, eventually being recognized as a person."



"How is the machine’s journey from zero to one any different?"



Park Jinseong stretched out his arm.



With his long, thin arm like a rope, he pointed toward the corner and grabbed a canister of oil, then placed his other hand atop his head. He extended four more fingers and plunged them deep into his skull, using those tentacle-like fingers to widen the opening.



Glug, glug, glug.



Then he opened the oil can and poured it directly onto his head.



So that the oil inside would settle in his mind.



With that, Park Jinseong brimmed with oil and grinned, tightly closing his numerous mouths and puffing up.



His cheeks?



No, the entire face—his entire head ballooned.



Now, Park Jinseong's features grew blurry.



The distinction between mouth and head similarly faded.



Park Jinseong's head could anytime be a cheek, a head, or even a balloon.



Thus, Park Jinseong puffed up his head and opened all his mouths.



Fwwwaaaak!



Then he sprayed the oil he had held in his mouth into the machine’s mouth.



Like a delinquent spitting water held in his mouth towards a blade.



"Similarity begets similarity; this is the history of fear and longing."



"Humans yearn and admire what resembles them, yet simultaneously distance themselves, feeling disgust and dread. This is precisely faith and belief. Is this instinct embedded in our genes or a desire sleeping in our souls?"



"Within instinct and desire, people have feared and revered; they advanced and regressed repeatedly. Through this process, they come to understand—ah, similarity begets similarity, and hence man learns to fear what he fears. He learns the reason behind the fear and conceals that fear, imprisoning it within itself, thus passing down the legacy of fear."



"And thus the fear speaks of being born of the blood of father and mother, inheriting that blood while breathing in, taking the first step into the world. This was present without attitude or regard for the sun and moon, light and darkness, always emerging and existing. It is both grotesque and incomprehensible. Therefore it resembles the nature of fear—appearing and disappearing randomly, a quality truly akin to it."



"Similarity begetting similarity is the law of the world. It cannot be wrong for offspring to resemble their parents in form and nature."



Park Jinseong grinned and began to draw bizarre symbols on the machine with his tentacles.



These were primitive superstitions.



Forms of fear that people had dreaded.



Things symbolizing falsehoods that existed within fiction.



In the East, they are yokai.



In the West, they are evil spirits or monsters.



They are born from human imagination, remembered through human fear.



Each has little meaning alone, but as a whole, there is no symbol greater than this.



Phantom fears, objects of superstition, creating something through taboo.



A method using 'the blood of those with connections' that has been widely utilized across both Eastern and Western practices.



A single object conjured by that method.



Once used by an alchemist who tricked people with whispers of a 'blood golem' or 'evil golem.'



Once crafted by a mad artisan who created cursed equipment or flesh-eating magic swords.



In a Korea where sorcery has shattered, only faint traces remain of superstitions that claim old objects stained with blood will come back to harm their owners.



Machine Magic.



Among them, a way to temporarily breathe thought into a machine.



Known through various names—'Golem without Truth,' 'Creation of Blood Golem,' 'Production of Flesh-Eating Doll,' 'Doll of Flesh and Blood'— an ancient sorcery often used by shamans.



"Ego. Using the creator as material, when a life passes away, you will awaken."



"And you will come to feel the world with thoughts."



"Move as the creator wished, or as you desire."