Chapter 147

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 147

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Godslayer II

3

Once upon a time, there was a Russian-born medical student, Anton Chekhov, who came from a humble background.

Even back then, as it is now, Russia was a frozen land imbued with a strange power. The Homo sapiens of that land had DNA that made them burst with literary talent the more unfortunate their circumstances.Vissit novelbin(.)c.om for updates

Chekhov died young, at the age of 44, from an incurable disease.

Possessing the trifecta of "Russia," "humble background," and "incurable disease," Chekhov traded his life span for an extraordinary literary gift. It was as if all the evil spirits of Russia whispered to him to become a writer.

Through an extraordinary dark magic, Chekhov transformed into a great literary figure and said:

-If you have a gun hanging on the wall in the first act, it must fire in the last. If it won't, don't bother hanging it there in the first place.

This is what’s known as "Chekhov's gun."

Originally, Chekhov probably just meant to say, "So, writers, make sure to use your foreshadowing effectively."

But as with all dark magic, Chekhov's spell unintentionally caused ripple effects.

For reference, Chekhov was active in Siberia, and the air masses formed in Siberia are infamous for striking the Korean Peninsula every winter.

No matter how great a sorcerer, one cannot escape the forces of nature. Chekhov's dark magic also rode the wind and landed in Korea.

Let’s consider a specific example.

“Hey, look at this! It’s a gun! A gun!”

“Oh. It must have been dropped by a military unit. Good job finding it, Miro.”

“Hehe.”

There was a happy couple in Seoul.

Even in a world stained with strange occurrences, the couple was living a sweet and romantic life.

Then one day, they found a firearm and magazines that had been dropped by a military unit. The couple thought this was an unbelievable stroke of luck and decided to keep the weapon.

And then...

-Bang!

In less than two weeks, one of them shot and killed the other.

“Ugh... Miro, why...?”

“Sorry. I just don’t have the will to go on anymore. So let’s die and become one.”

“No...”

The couple who had been living a peaceful and happy life suddenly took a dark and tragic turn.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

-Bang!

Some families who found guns ended up being shot dead on the same night.

Someone, possessed by something strange in the middle of the night, mistakenly thought they were under attack and slaughtered their entire family.

“Aaaargh!”

As dawn broke, the person who had "defended" against the "enemy" realized that all of the "enemies" were actually their family members. Overcome with despair, they took their own life.

Of course, they used the gun.

There were countless similar cases.

-Anonymous: This survivalist group built a hideout near my town, and they got completely wiped out last night, lol.

-Anonymous: It seems like they had a stockpile of guns, given the non-stop gunfire I heard all night. I got curious and approached their place, but it was a madhouse—yelling, screaming, total chaos.

-Anonymous: They were all from the same hometown and seemed really tight-knit, but it looks like guns were all it took to tear them apart. Crazy stuff.

Now, you might be starting to guess.

That’s right.

The dark magic cast by the Russian author had affected all firearms. Every gun became haunted by the anomaly known as "Chekhov’s gun."

So, in this world, "if a gun exists," it must "go off at a crucial moment."

To be more precise:

Because a gun exists, a "crucial moment" is forcibly created.

The death of a loving couple.

The collapse of a tightly-knit group.

Regardless of the people or the events, if a gun exists, it inevitably creates a defining moment.

Until when? Until the magazine runs out of bullets.

It was a modern-day version of Paris's Golden Apple. Wherever a gun existed, discord and tragedy would ensue.

“Hey? Hey? Put that gun down, will you?”

“Shut up! Why should I stay in the army when my family’s all dead? I’ll kill you all too!”

Bang, bang, bang!

The national army, which had once charged toward Seoul with the intent to seize a new throne on the Korean Peninsula, was annihilated in an instant.

Although the ultimate reason was that the "Lonely Gourmet" slaughtered the army in a feast, Chekhov’s gun dealt the final blow.

“No, if we start infighting now, the hope of our people will be wiped out...”

“Hope, my ass! Die! Just die!”

“Someone stop that bastard! Wait, what the hell? Why are you all loading your guns? Are you crazy?”

In simple terms, the entire division erupted in a gunfight. Rumor has it that even the corps commander was caught up in it and killed instantly.

Fortunately, on the Korean Peninsula, firearms were mainly concentrated within military units, so only military strength was lost.

For the record, Cheon Yohwa scored in the top tier (1st grade) in Korean, Math, English, and Korean History on the college entrance exam.

You might wonder how they even held a college entrance exam in a world where the government had collapsed, but, well, every November, anomalies and voids appear in Korea in the form of the "College Scholastic Ability Test."

The questions are bizarre, but Cheon Yohwa managed to achieve near-perfect scores. If you rummage through her bag, you’d even find an "Honorary Seoul University Student ID."

Anyway.

“That sword is quite powerful, but it’s still weaker than my staff-sword. It hasn’t created any real legends. In today’s world, the most powerful weapon is one that has its own ‘story’ strong enough to cut down anomalies.”

"Hmm... I don't really get it. I’m not very interested in weapons, but I wonder if such a weapon even exists in our country?"

"There is one."

I smiled.

"Yohwa, have you ever heard of 'The Heart of the Beast'?"

"What?"

‘The Bullet That Killed a God.’

A German-made Walther PPK pistol.

Serial number 159270.

The strongest treasure on the Korean Peninsula.

The strike that pierced the heart of Yushin.

That's right.

The gun that once assassinated the president was now calling out to me, the Doctor Jang, asking to be retrieved.

5

This might be surprising, but the gun responsible for the historic achievement of the 'Presidential Assassination' was never enshrined in a museum.

In fact, its whereabouts were entirely unknown.

After the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency committed the assassination, the gun was transferred to the Army Forensic Science Laboratory at the Ministry of National Defense.

After the scientific analysis was completed, it was sent to the Security Command, and from there, it was moved to the Army Headquarters.

Finally, after the trial was concluded, it was returned to the Central Intelligence Agency, with the thought, "This gun belongs to another agency, so we should return it, right?"

In South Korea, if an item passes through more than three government agencies, it essentially means that the ownership of that item is forever relinquished.

The ‘strongest treasure on the Korean Peninsula’ was no exception.

Naturally, the PPK pistol went missing.

At the Central Intelligence Agency, they claimed:

- The Security Command confiscated it.

While at the Security Command, they insisted:

- We returned it to the Central Intelligence Agency ages ago.

If this scenario sounds familiar, it's not a coincidence. Public servants' DNA is the same at the local or national level.

But this isn't just something to laugh about.

Perhaps the public servants at that time instinctively felt fear in the presence of this cursed demonic sword—no, demonic gun—that killed a god.

It was an abomination that should not have existed on Earth. As mere mortals, they had to return it to the divine realm as quickly as possible.

Yes, the public servants were ultimately correct.

The best way to deal with a curse is to pretend the curse doesn't exist.

The South Korean government succeeded in sealing away the cursed artifact in the most prudent manner.

And now, I, the Doctor Jang, needed that artifact. Desperately.

As soon as I parted ways with Cheon Yohwa, I headed north from Sejong City.

And arrived in a certain district in Seoul.

[...Doctor Jang.]

The saintess, who always passed the time by monitoring the CCTV she had installed on me, finally spoke up.

“Yes?”

[Are you really thinking of going in there? I mean, this is the void you always warned me never to enter, right?]

“Yes. It's true that you shouldn’t go in, Saintess, but I’ll be fine.”

[.......]

I lightly ignored the saintess's silence and looked up at the scene before me.

In the background stood Seoul's iconic Namsan Mountain.

And of course, there was a building that had to be there if it was Namsan.

The headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency. Some might be more familiar with the name 'KCIA,' the organization’s base of operations.

But now, it had fallen into a void.

That’s right.

As I mentioned in a previous episode, the pinnacle and culmination of genre fiction, known as "Luck Hogging," had come to an end in our world.

All thanks to that treacherous anomaly known as the "Law of the Conservation of Luck."

But how could one mourn such a thing?

After all, fried pork at a specialized Chinese restaurant is always tastier than a buffet. Even if we’re banned from hogging all the dishes, we can still enjoy the best single entrée.

Me, Doctor Jang. I pride myself as a gourmet second only to Tang Seorin and the Ten Clans on the Korean Peninsula.

“Saintess, I’m going to farm the treasure that killed a god today.”

[.......]

“Please watch over me.”

Today, I’m going to feast on the greatest fortune the Korean Peninsula has to offer.

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]