NOVPUB"They call themselves ‘F*ing Artists,'" Carol explained.
She went on to describe them as a bizarre group that used "artistic expression" as an excuse to commit anomalous terrorist acts.
The facility had received reports of their suspicious activities and had sent investigators, but every attempt had ended in failure. Either communication had been cut off, or no useful information had been obtained.
In the midst of this, the facility had apparently decided to send me in as a test—like pouring a strong chemical onto an unknown substance just to see if it dissolves.
This is what they consider a last resort?
"Anyway, good luck. You're in an area where the Cathedral isn't active, so you can use your abilities freely. Of course, wiping out an entire town would be... inconvenient."
Carol worried too much.
Annihilating a whole town? Did she think I was some kind of walking disaster?
Who in their right mind would lose control like that?
Though I didn’t fully agree with her concerns, I nodded.
"I don’t think I have that kind of power... but alright."
"Good. Keep in touch often. Also, the phone you made is great—no chance of wiretaps. Can you make more?"
Carol was referring to the phone I had created using the anomalous properties of the telephone horror entity.
Because it didn’t operate through normal means, it couldn’t be tapped. Conversations weren’t recorded, and unless someone was physically present, no one could overhear them.
"I could make one or two more using similar legends, but this is essentially a 'curse.' Only I can use it properly."
"Wait, a curse?"
Carol immediately reacted to that word.
Understandable. It did sound ominous.
But I had no intention of leaving her spooked, so I reassured her.
"It’s nothing scary. Just different effects—like making you teleport behind someone when they least expect it, forcing you to talk to ghosts, or exploding your head if you hang up first."
"Those got progressively worse! Do you secretly hate me?"
This woman, seriously.
Before she could ramble on about nonsense, I decided to end the call.
"No! I’m hanging up now. Oh, and the phone I gave you? If you don’t answer before the third ring, it’ll explode, so be careful."
"Wait, you do hate m—"
Click.
I hung up.
Looking up, I saw white clouds drifting across the blue sky, moving in a line like a flock of sheep.
I had heard that this region had a lot of clouds, but they only slightly dimmed the sunlight rather than making the atmosphere gloomy.
I quietly enjoyed the view while munching on a pretzel.
I had never traveled before, and now I was all the way in Europe.
This didn’t feel like a "small request" at all.
...But since the sky was pretty, I guess it didn’t matter.
"Excuse me... Are you Alice?"
A man’s voice came from behind me.
Since he knew my name, he was likely someone from the facility.
Carol had mentioned a guide... What was his name again?
"Yeah. You must be Agent Brem."
"That’s correct. I’ve been assigned as your guide. Before we begin, may I explain some precautions?"
Right to business, huh?
Everyone at the facility was like this.
I nodded.
"Go ahead."
Brem hesitated briefly before glancing at the street artists selling their paintings nearby.
Then, he spoke.
"You must be cautious around street artists.
It’s difficult to identify our enemies among them, and there aren’t just a few of them.
Ideally, you should avoid interacting with any artists altogether."
Artists are the enemy?
Well, considering their name—"F***ing Artists"—it made sense that there would be hostile artists among them.
What a ridiculous name...
But in a town known for its deep connection to the arts, avoiding artists entirely was going to be a pain.
I mixed a bit of a complaint into my next question.
"Are they really that dangerous?"
"Their combat abilities are nothing special.
But anomalous abilities defy logic.
They have led even our most capable agents to their worst fates.
D-888... No matter how powerful you are, do not let your guard down."
His eyes were filled with fear and grim determination.
It was almost pitiful.
"...How many have we lost?"
"In this region alone? Seven agents.
And 32 civilians."
"I see. I get it now."
This wasn’t a fairy tale.
Unlike when I was with the kids, this time people would die.
That was just how things worked.
I listened to a few more warnings from Brem before he finally explained the mission.
"According to intelligence, this group—despite being loosely structured—is hosting an exhibition tonight."
"The event is scheduled for 9 PM.
Our objectives are to confiscate any anomalous works, apprehend the members, and rescue any potential victims."
"Pretty serious operation. First time I’ve been asked to do something like this. Think it'll go well?"
"No offense, but we're not expecting much from you.
You were added to the plan last minute, and the risk is significant."
"So, I just need to take care of myself?"
Brem didn’t answer.
That was the answer.
I understood.
Entrusting something important to a last-minute addition was a tough decision.
"So that’s the level of confidence you have in me, huh? Fine. How do we get into the exhibition?"
Brem’s response was short and blunt.
"We don’t know."
"...Excuse me?"
I tilted my head slightly, wondering if I had misheard.
But his expression remained serious.
"I mean exactly what I said. We don’t know.
We have to wait for them to make a move and follow them."
"Wait... have we never captured one of their members before?"
"We have.
But even the ones we captured didn’t know how to enter the exhibition.
All they knew was that it happens at 9 PM... and that the theme is 'living humans.'"
"...This is a problem."
I wasn’t great at deduction.
If we needed detective work, I wasn’t the right person.
Just as Brem expected, I was probably going to be useless.
I took the communication radio he gave me and prepared to act alone.
When I asked why he wasn’t assigning someone to monitor me, he simply said:
"Director Carol’s orders."
Carol seemed to trust me quite a bit.
But this time, I wasn’t sure I could meet her expectations.
Time passed, and before I knew it, the exhibition was about to begin.
I let out a slow breath, watching as the cold air turned to mist and drifted into the night sky.
If this were the sea, that mist might have formed a massive water droplet instead.
"Find anything?"
I turned to the entity beside me—the Eavesdropping Horror.
It resembled a hybrid of a bird and a rat.
Looking at it reminded me of the old saying, “Walls have ears.”
[...]
The entity lowered its head.
I patted it gently.
"Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault. Thanks for trying. You can go back now."
After sending the entity away through the mirror, I picked up the phone.
"No other choice. Guess I’ll check in with Carol again."
The signal rang twice.
Just as the third ring was about to start, Carol answered.
"Hello?! Sorry—give me a second—haa... Let me catch my breath..."
Her breathing was ragged.
Hearing an adult woman pant like that was... oddly awkward.
I averted my gaze and muttered,
"You didn’t have to run."
"Ahaha! So it was just a joke? You little troublemaker!"
Oh.
She was talking about the phone's explosion effect.
"No, I was going to hang up before the third ring."
"...So it really would explode."
"Well, yeah. It’s an entity born from modern people's irrational fear of missing calls.
Not answering has to have consequences. That’s its nature."
"Fine, fine. So, why are you calling?"
"...Embarrassing as it is, I haven’t made any progress. Thought I’d ask for advice."
Carol pondered over what I told her before finally sharing her thoughts.
"Maybe they have an invitation method so complex that even their own members don’t fully understand it? Or maybe it’s a multi-step process—like a cipher that only reveals the location after going through multiple layers."
"An invitation method that only works for the right people... Is there even a way to figure that out?"
"The best approach is to make direct contact with them. It’s risky, but who knows? You might get an invitation yourself."
"You’re right... Time is running out, and I don’t want to half-ass this request. I’ll give it a shot."
"I feel like I just pushed you into danger. If things get too risky, get out immediately, okay?"
"If you're that worried, just don’t hang up."
With that, I minimized the phone and placed it in my ear before heading off to find an artist.
I figured people with guilty consciences tended to lurk in secluded places, so I wandered into the alleyways.
As expected, in the darkest part of an alley, I found an artist painting.
It was too dark to make out the smaller finished works scattered on the ground, but thanks to my sharper-than-average night vision, I could barely make out the one he was working on.
I decided to throw out a hollow compliment.
"Interesting piece."
A middle-aged man’s voice responded.
"Oh... A visitor, even in this dark little corner. And a girl with a voice as sweet as a music box? Heh heh... A promising start."
Not a girl, thanks.
I pretended to take an interest in his work, hoping to loosen his tongue.
"What’s this supposed to represent? Looks like °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° some kind of critique."
"Sharp eyes. I can’t even see your face, yet you can read my work?
This is a critique of a certain fairy tale. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure—Alice in Wonderland."
Oh. What a familiar subject.
But...
"A critique?"
The moment I questioned it, the man jumped at the chance to ramble.
"Alice is the epitome of a Lolita character, a projection of Lewis Carroll’s depraved desires.
You don’t even need to read the book—just look at his life! He was obsessed with taking pictures of little girls!"
"Uh... Hmm..."
"He should’ve just stuck to math! How can such a disgusting novel be so famous? I refuse to accept it. My work is far superior!"
This guy was insane.
But I forced myself to play along.
I was about to make some vague agreement when a loud, staticky noise blared in my ear.
"THIS MOTHERF*ER!!!!"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PEDOPHILE?!?!?! ALICE?! DO I KILL HIM?! LET'S KILL THIS PIECE OF SHIT! EVEN THE ETHICS COMMITTEE WOULD GIVE ME A GOLD STAR FOR THIS! THE RESEARCH DIRECTOR GAVE ME PERMISSION, SO KILL HIMMMMMM—!!!"
Carol, what the hell?!
I didn’t say that word! Sure, it was implied, but—!
And obviously, he wasn’t talking to her!
I desperately tried to calm her down.
"Wait, just calm—"
"HOW DARE HE TALK ABOUT MY ALICE LIKE THAT—! HE’S A FAKE ARTIST WHO DOESN’T EVEN KNOW LOVE—!"
Oh, this is hopeless.
The Alice horror phone service is now terminated.
Click.
I turned back to the artist, pretending nothing had happened.
"Interesting explanation. That’s a great piece. Where are you planning to exhibit it?"
"I heard there’s an exhibition happening somewhere. I was thinking of displaying it there."
"...!"
Bingo.
This guy was the real deal.
I forced myself to keep a neutral expression, suppressing my excitement.
I smiled warmly and made my move.
"That sounds amazing. Would you mind if I came to see it?"
"Hmm. Hard to say. Even I don’t know where the exhibition is being held."
...Crap.
I briefly considered the possibility that these guys were being tricked, too.
At that moment, the moon rose high enough to erase the shadows of the buildings.
Time had passed—the night had deepened.
Even though the moonlight brightened my surroundings, my mood remained dark.
"..."
Now that I could see him better, the artist’s expression was... strange.
He was staring directly at my face.
I felt a faint chill.
"What’s wrong, old man? Is there something on my face?"
"Beautiful."
"Huh?"
What the hell was he talking about?
I let out a dumbfounded noise, but the artist ignored it, muttering to himself.
"Those sapphire-blue eyes... Silk-like hair... Porcelain skin without a single blemish... And a voice as delicate as a music box... Oh, how exquisite."
"Stop."
I cut him off with a quiet, crawling voice.
It was rude, but I was too busy biting my lip, trying to suppress my embarrassment.
He was praising me like someone confessing their love.
It was incredibly uncomfortable—borderline humiliating.
My pale skin only made my blush stand out more, so I turned my body away to hide it.
"Ah... Even the way you get flustered. How adorably pure."
I swear, if I could make him shut up, I’d do anything.
"I said stop! I really misjudged you... I’m leaving!"
If someone wanted to make me self-destruct, all they had to do was shower me with praise.
I tried to flee in disgrace.
But—
"Apologies. I’m afraid that’s not possible."
His demeanor instantly shifted.
I spun around in alarm.
The moonlight revealed the paintings scattered around him—portraits of people, all slightly writhing.
Then, with a greedy smile, he held out a sheet of paper toward me.
"I don’t think I’ll find a better masterpiece than you."
The clock struck 9:00 PM.
The artist anxiously tapped his foot.
"It should be time."
The nervous energy only lasted a moment.
A gust of wind carried music into the alley.
It was an unfamiliar melody, but it was undeniably beautiful.
The artist’s face lit up with inspiration.
He visualized it.
A grand exhibition.
Then, he imagined a doorway leading to it—so vividly that it felt as though the door were truly there.
"..."
It was there.
A real door, exactly as he had imagined it.
"So that’s why no one knows the location... What a fascinating concept.
Though, perhaps I shouldn’t be the one saying that. After all, I can trap people inside paintings."
With that, the artist opened the door and stepped inside.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
-----
"Shortly after the tracker on D-888 went offline, a door appeared in the plaza.
Judging by the timing, which aligns with what the captured ‘F***ing Artists’ had said, this seems to be the entrance to the exhibition.
...Confirmed. Deploy combat units, leaving only the necessary personnel behind."
-----
"Phew! Getting trapped somewhere will never feel normal."
I slipped out of the painting while the artist was away using the restroom.
Since "paintings where the figures move" was a well-known horror legend, I had used my control over anomalous entities related to paintings to escape.
I turned to the entity still inside the artwork.
"Given the nature of this place, you’ll probably be useful. Hide in another painting for now."
After confirming that the painting horror had concealed itself, I moved on.
I needed to cover my face, so I grabbed a mask near what seemed to be the exhibition entrance.
Now disguised, I blended into the crowd of artists, eavesdropping on their conversations.
"Look at this—truly a masterpiece! A preserved little demon that was hiding from the Cathedral and the Facility! I’m the only one who’s managed to bring a demon as an exhibit!"
"But this exhibition’s theme is 'living humans'."
"Hah. A demon or a human, aren’t they all God’s creations in the end?"
"That’s an interesting take. How about my exhibit—a grimoire replica made entirely from the flayed skins of living humans?"
"Oh, that’s fantastic."
Even from just this brief exchange, it was clear these people had long since crossed the line of humanity.
I wanted to join the conversation and extract more information, but every time they spoke, they ended up discussing their own grotesque works.
Maybe I needed a "piece" of my own to participate.
I grabbed a discarded sheet of paper and quickly sketched something.
It turned out better than I expected—I was actually kind of proud of it.
...But having only one seems kind of weak. I don’t want to keep drawing, so I’ll summon a horror to carry around like an art piece.
I decided on the "Neck-Snapped Man."
This entity originated from a mysterious urban legend about a figure who occasionally appeared in photographs taken at the sites of fatal accidents.
For an event about to turn into a disaster, he was the perfect choice.
I made my way toward the artists and struck up a conversation using the kind of flattery any creator would love to hear.
"Hey, I’m really interested in your work. Mind explaining it to me?"
"Oh, of course, young artist! This piece represents..."
Blah, blah, blah.
I let his words go in one ear and out the other.
When he finished, I clapped politely.
That seemed to make him interested in my piece.
"Oh, a neck-snapped human! And still breathing, too. Aside from Frankenstein Abregail, I haven’t seen many artists skilled in body modification! But what’s that picture in its left hand?"
At least he could recognize the artistic value of this one.
I puffed out my chest and prepared to explain my creation.
"Hmph... This is—"
"Looks like something a kindergartener drew. No artistic value. Is that part of your exhibit?"
"...This piece was drawn by him."
"Good heavens! A being with a snapped neck capable of painting?! You must have an extraordinary talent for modifications!"
'This bastard...'
I suppressed the urge to tear him apart.
I needed answers. Stay calm.
"Do you know who’s hosting this exhibition?"
"Hmm. Not really. But I do know the host’s painting. Look over there."
I followed his pointed finger.
A massive painting dominated the space, exuding an ominous presence.
The painting depicted a lone star in the night sky above a city illuminated by fire.
The title read:
[A Portrait of the Cosmic Being I Once Witnessed]
So this is cosmic horror, huh...
Around the massive painting, dozens of human portraits were clustered like barnacles.
The arrangement was eerie, and I couldn’t discern its meaning at a glance.
Maybe there was an explanation nearby.
As I approached, a whisper drifted from the edge of the portraits.
"Let me out."
"..."
Without hesitation, I swiftly removed the portrait while making sure no one noticed.
Then, using the painting horror, I pulled a person out of it.
"Hgh... Hahh... Hahh..."
The man who emerged was a Facility agent.
He was trembling, still trapped in terror.
I wrapped my arms around him, gently calming him down.
I could feel his heartbeat.
"It’s okay. You’re safe now. Take deep breaths—good, just like that."
His breathing started to steady.
"There’s no fear that can’t be overcome. You’re scared, but I’m here, so you can relax a little."
His shaking subsided.
"Don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. Focus only on what you need to do right now. That’s your best course of action."
His mind regained clarity.
"Even if you’re afraid, keep moving forward. Let’s go on this adventure together."
His willpower returned.
He had made a full recovery.
So I let go of him.
He let out a tiny, reluctant noise.
It felt a little embarrassing—like I had acted purely on instinct.
I awkwardly cleared my throat.
"Ahem. You okay now?"
"Yeah... Thanks. Can’t believe I had to rely on a kid like this... So, who are you?"
"Alice. D-888. Ring any bells?"
"...I heard you were a demon, but you don’t feel like one at all."
Growl.
His stomach rumbled.
Looks like he had been trapped for a while.
Scratching his head, he looked at me and asked,
"Sorry, but do you have any food?"
"Got some leftover pretzels."
I handed him a pretzel, which he devoured immediately.
To keep him from choking, I also gave him some water.
"Phew... I finally feel human again."
He relaxed, his face finally free of the lingering terror.
It was amusing how quickly he had bounced back.
I chuckled—not in mockery, but because it was genuinely endearing.
"Heh... Acting all tough, huh?"
His face turned red.
"..."
"So, what happened?"
I asked him to explain how he ended up here.
"Honestly, it’s embarrassing. I was tracking the organization when I got trapped in a painting—along with plenty of other innocent people.
While I was inside, I could feel my energy being drained... drawn toward that huge painting over there.
I think that’s the root of the problem.
Destroying it won’t be easy, though. Fire probably won’t work."
If that painting was the issue, I had an easy solution.
I summoned the painting horror and gave it a command.
"Ruin that painting."
The entity slipped into the massive artwork.
...But something wasn’t working.
"Think we need the Facility’s support?"
"Probably."
"Then it doesn’t matter. They’ll be here soon."
BOOM!
The moment I finished speaking, the facility’s soldiers burst through the doors.
The exhibition hall instantly descended into chaos.
The agent beside me looked at me in shock.
"How did you do that?"
"Some people fear going to new places. This entity is born from that fear—it temporarily connects unfamiliar locations to the outside world."
"That’s... an insanely broken ability..."
The facility’s attack scattered the "F***ing Artists" like insects caught in a storm.
"Shit! Why the hell are these jailer bastards here?!"
"Weapons from the workshop! Eat this!"
"Damn, this gear’s actually good!"
"Goddamn it! The exhibition’s ruined!"
Some of them put up a fight, but it didn’t last long.
At this rate, the exhibition would end, and the artists would all be captured.
That would have been a nice ending.
[~~~~~!]
A sound—music—spilled from the massive painting.
Everyone, regardless of affiliation, froze.
I felt the presence of the painting horror I had hidden earlier vanish—it had been forcibly expelled into the mirror.
"Ah... Aaaah!"
A red star in the cosmic painting pulsed violently.
Life force was being drained from every person in the room.
Those already trapped inside portraits withered even faster.
As the people around me collapsed in terror, I stepped forward.
"...Who are you?"
Was it a monster disguised as a painting?
No.
It was definitely a painting—a depiction of something seen.
I had no idea what the artist had witnessed to paint this, but I understood what was happening.
"You must’ve devoured the artist long ago. That means you were the one who orchestrated this exhibition."
The cosmic entity within the painting ignored me, continuing to drain life force.
It was an imitation—but if it managed to leave that painting, it could become real.
"You planned to absorb the artists and their ‘living human’ exhibits—then move on to consume this entire region."
For a being bound to a painting, absorbing those already trapped in artwork was the most efficient way to grow stronger.
But the facility’s interference had led to too many casualties before it could consume them. 𝖓𝔬𝖛𝔭𝔲𝖇.𝔠𝔬𝖒
So now, it had revealed itself.
This entire event had been a trap—a mechanism to quietly devour people.
"Focus."
I unleashed my power, severing its ability to drain life.
[......!]
Now you’re paying attention.
"What an unpleasant power.
A ruler’s ability—to instill fear so absolute that resistance is erased.
Isn’t that a bit excessive?"
Our gazes met.
The red star in the painting locked onto me.
For a moment, reality itself seemed to warp from the sheer force of that eye contact.
The imitation cosmic god now saw me as an enemy.
"The fear of the unknown from an overwhelming entity? A classic cosmic horror trope."
"Sure, it’s a fun theme in horror stories.
But I think that kind of fear belongs in fiction.
"I was once human. And as a human, I hate watching people die to unfair beings.
I hate seeing people who can’t even consider the possibility of escape.
It’s inevitable that people will encounter terrifying things in this world.
But it’s wrong when they’re denied even the chance to fight back.
Even God is said to never give trials that can’t be overcome."
"Fear that can’t be conquered is not entertainment.
You don’t belong in Wonderland."
A voice rang in my head.
Off with its head.
"So let’s close your little painted universe."
That was when the battle began.
The star in the painting flared, sending scarlet bursts of energy in every direction.
The rays were akin to laser weapons, burning through everything they touched.
I dodged with high-speed movements.
But the humans still frozen in fear—they couldn’t.
To protect them, I had to limit my mobility.
[.......]
The painting adjusted.
It redirected the blasts at the people instead.
"Ha! Smart move."
But I had a counter for that.
I turned to my summoned entity.
"Cause an accident, would you?"
[Heehee... heehee...]
Wherever the Neck-Snapped Man stood, accidents followed.
He positioned himself in front of an art piece—drawing every beam into one concentrated point.
The misdirected energy shattered the artwork.
A gap opened in the entity’s offense.
"Fear is okay.
But don’t stop moving."
I scattered my power throughout the area.
It began purging the cosmic horror’s influence.
People slowly regained their senses.
"What just..."
"Look! That painting—it’s a monster! Kill it!"
"Damn it, we were fooled!"
"Fine. Temporary alliance!"
"Don’t get too comfortable! You’re all under arrest after this!"
Everyone focused their fire on the painting.
Tears ripped through the canvas.
The entity retaliated, summoning massive tendrils to crush the crowd.
People shut their eyes, preparing for the end.
Instead, they saw me.
Blocking the strike with my bare hands.
"Even if you're afraid—
Keep moving forward."
I summoned the Beast of Gévaudan.
The remaining combatants focused fire on the painting.
The constant attacks drained its strength—leaving gaps in its once-impenetrable form.
"Take this!"
One of the facility agents fired a massive shell at the painting.
The Beast of Gévaudan sprinted at full speed—fast enough to catch up with the shell.
BOOOOOOM!
The blast staggered the painting.
It reeled.
And then—
The Beast’s claws tore through it.
...It was over.
The facility moved to clean up the scene.
The artists were rounded up—some of them were too anomalous to be left alone, so they were given "special containment."
[Awoooooooo—!!!]
Yeah, yeah, you did great. No need for the dramatic howls. You’re scaring people.
I dismissed all the horrors I had summoned.
Then, I walked up to Brem.
The moment he saw me, he bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Alice. Some of my comrades were among those trapped.
Without you, they never would have survived."
His gratitude made me uncomfortable.
"Come on, don’t make it weird...
This was a team effort, so don’t put yourself down.
You guys would’ve found a way even without me."
"But if a being like you hadn’t been here... What would have happened?
Is there truly a limit to what pure human strength can accomplish?"
"No. Never.
So don’t ever say that."
Brem gave me a strange look.
Then, softly, he murmured:
"You’re... truly unique."
"...You think so?"
The mission was complete.
I returned to the facility safe and sound.
With this, the facility’s wariness toward me should almost disappear.
And with such a successful mission, no one would bother me while I lazed around.
Perfect.
