Chapter 50: Sometimes, reality feels more like a novel than a novel itself Part 1

A dark and desolate alleyway.

In that alley, a middle-aged man with a cigarette between his lips stood in the shadows.

His scarred face suddenly twisted in confusion.

‘Hannibal, that bastard, was taken down? Just like that?’

He knew about the “Silence of the Lambs.”

He also knew how meticulous the leader was.

This was a place beyond the reach of the law—a haven for those who thrived in the underworld.

Not only was it impossible for anyone in these circles to be unfamiliar with Hannibal’s notoriety, but he also had a personal connection with him.

Buffalo Bill.

A grotesque serial killer who skinned his victims and wore their hides.

Though they weren’t part of the same organization, they had worked together numerous times.

Their shared appreciation for their “art” had led to enjoyable conversations.

As a warlock, Bill’s achievements surpassed most, but when it came to subtlety and meticulous planning, Hannibal was leagues ahead.

For such a man to be defeated so easily—it was hard to believe.

Of course, all Bill felt was bewilderment, not anger.

‘We weren’t close enough for that.’

Hannibal’s brainwashed minions, his subordinates, or fanatical followers might grieve his death, but Bill, an outsider, wouldn’t feel any loss.

What struck him more was a sense of urgency.

‘A man who had so carefully hidden his identity—how could a mere new professor see through it so effortlessly?’

‘A near-prophetic level of insight, martial arts mastery that delves into the mind, the reach of a grand sorcerer, and even an understanding of runic language. Is this person even human?’

A monster beyond comprehension.

An extraordinary superhuman, as though pulled straight from fabricated myths.

There was nothing to gain from being noticed by such a being.

While compromising on his art was distasteful, staying alive took precedence over everything else.

‘Don’t provoke Riyan.’

‘Leave this country quickly, even if it’s risky.’

No matter how he looked at it, that was the wisest choice.

Had he been foolish enough not to realize that, he would have already been captured and executed.

When it was time to run, he had to run.

With that resolve, Bill snuffed out his cigarette and began preparing to leave.

That was how the future was supposed to unfold…

‘But why?’

‘Why did his legs suddenly disobey him?’

‘His feet refused to lift off the ground.’

A nonexistent memory surged into Bill’s mind.

Recollections of Hannibal and himself, as if they were blood brothers, sharing a deep bond.

Memories of them talking warmly about their art, advising one another, trusting their backs to each other during critical moments, and overcoming challenges together as sworn siblings.

None of it had ever happened.

Yet, for some reason, these memories invaded Buffalo Bill’s mind.

A man who had been irrelevant just moments ago now brought tears to his eyes.

A single thought pounded in his chest—revenge.

The desire to repay this agony to Riyan consumed him.

Driven by that obsession, Bill’s rationality crumbled.

Emerging was a plan to kill that professor.

The power fueled by souls—his entire collection, and even his own soul—could be burned to fuel one single blow.

If he could channel it all into one strike, he could certainly sever that man’s lifeline.

Of course, the cost would be immense.

Even if he succeeded, Bill himself would not survive.

Sacrificing his life for vengeance would be an insane act.

Logically, giving up and abandoning the idea was the right decision, but logic no longer held sway over him.

The strings of his fate had been rewritten.

By a puppet master’s whim, the flow of destiny had been reshaped and finalized.

The universe commanded Riyan’s enemies to act.

“Give him the ending he fears most.”

“Deliver what he has desperately tried to avoid.”

…Deliver death to Riyan.

Take the life of the new professor.

As if in a trance, Bill muttered to himself while wandering the dark alleyways alone.

Looking at the scene unfolding before me, I thought:

‘Perhaps the one who was strange wasn’t the world but me.’

The whole world hadn’t gone mad; I was the one who had lost my mind.

That’s why everyone else seemed odd to me.

They blatantly manipulate stock prices and swindle money.

As if that wasn’t enough, they spew all kinds of inhumane remarks, flaunting their despicable behavior.

Unbearable individuals.

Vile swindlers and criminals.

When such scum boldly flaunt their misdeeds in front of everyone, the reaction of ordinary people is not to unite in throwing tomatoes and condemning them.

Instead, they look up at them with fanatical eyes, weeping tears of repentance as though witnessing a deity.

***

I was the one who committed the fraud.

Yet, people looked at me with apologetic faces, endlessly apologizing.

At some point, I could no longer tell who the real criminal was.

But maybe this was the rational way of thinking.

If someone steals your money on the street, you should thank them.

Worship them for being so noble.

That’s the common sense of this reversed world…

‘…That can’t be right. What on earth is this?’

Suddenly, a criminal organization appeared out of nowhere.

Even so, I didn’t lose my grip on rationality.

I spouted a string of outrageous remarks that should have buried me, letting my vile behavior show.

Yet, the responses I got were incomprehensible.

Just moments ago, they were so angry.

But now, they switched their attitude so quickly it felt like I’d stumbled into a ninja village.

I needed to ruin my image as quickly as possible.

But how could I make these lunatics hate me? Even if I suddenly took off my pants and performed a ridiculous dance, they seemed ready to cheer.

It was an unsolvable dilemma.

Time passed as I wandered in search of an answer I couldn’t find.

***

“You no longer need to worry, everyone.”

A tiny girl suddenly appeared, as if announcing the end of a timeout.

Lucie Leonhart smiled triumphantly at me as she strode forward to stand in front of the reporters.

Lucie boldly declared in front of everyone:

“You no longer need to fear the night. The villain who brought chaos to the Empire has paid the price for their crimes.”

Hannibal Lecter had been killed.

The criminal organization that had troubled the Empire was eliminated.

“All of this was possible thanks to Professor Riyan’s cooperation.”

She was crediting everything to me.

“If he hadn’t revealed the true nature of H.L. Corporation to the Imperial Court, that heinous criminal would still be walking freely even now.”

Lucie, the Fifth Princess, bowed her head to me.

‘I have no idea how to express my gratitude to Professor Riyan.’

As if that wasn’t bad enough, her small lips didn’t stop there.

“I also know why all of you are gathered here. But I want to assure you that this is nothing to worry about.”

She was telling the shareholders to be at ease.

I immediately sensed what she was about to say next, but my sluggish reflexes couldn’t stop her.

The girl flashed a bright smile and declared to everyone:

“This incident was a misunderstanding caused during the execution of a classified national operation. The damages will be addressed as much as possible.”

She was talking about compensating the victims using the assets confiscated from the criminal organization.

These were people who already acted this way despite losing their money.

If the financial issue were resolved on top of that, the reaction was painfully obvious.

A thunderous cheer erupted.

Countless people began chanting my name.

The absurdity of it all left me dazed.

I felt so faint that my legs wobbled beneath me.

Yet, I didn’t collapse.

Even as my mind teetered on the edge, I couldn’t fall.

A deafening gunshot suddenly rang out without warning.

A bullet imbued with countless vengeful spirits shot toward me.

My reflexes weren’t fast enough to dodge it.

Normally, my head would’ve been blown off immediately, but…

I stumbled back slightly, still dizzy.

Miraculously, the bullet grazed my cheek and missed.

Instead, it struck the Supreme Court building directly behind the press conference, where the Empire’s flag fluttered high.

The bullet exploded with a resounding roar.

Panic swept through the crowd as people lost their senses.

The security detail, which hadn’t even been summoned, rushed to the scene.

Karen, along with the students, charged toward me with wild eyes, intent on protecting me.

My physique was still on the weaker side, so their forceful attempts knocked me off balance, leaving me floundering amidst the chaos.

It was an incomprehensible situation.

Yet, amidst the confusion, one man remained eerily composed, as if entranced.

The journalist, Cromwell, stood frozen with his mouth agape, staring at the scene through his camera lens.

Instinctively, he pressed the shutter.

What he captured was like a masterpiece painted by an artist.

A streak of blood running down my cheek.

My fist raised defiantly, as if refusing to back down.

And behind me, the Empire’s flag fluttering proudly in the wind.

It was the moment a photograph destined to turn the world upside down was taken.