There Is No World For ■■-Chapter 189: A Graceful Lady, An Old Connection, An American, A Longstanding Grudge (2)

The inside of the train was far more luxurious than expected.

Carpeted hallways, cabins spacious enough to fit two beds side by side, and an entire train car remodeled with various amenities.

But there was no time to marvel at the luxury—Yeomyeong headed straight for the dining car.

A small bar stood at the center, with elegant tables lining the windows.

And there, Yeomyeong came face-to-face with familiar faces.

Deputy Chief Kim Mansoo and Team Leader Tian Lin from Team 3.

“...Got kicked out of the team leader position.”

“You got fired? Or is this some sort of promotion?”

“Promotion, my ass. I’m at the bottom rung of Team 1 now.”

Tian Lin raised her hand and conjured a small shard of ice as she spoke.

It was a clear sign—she’d become a mage, weaving mana and incantation together.

Only then did Yeomyeong grasp what she meant.

She’d been promoted into Team 1, made up entirely of superhumans—but as the rookie of the squad.

“Congratulations. You’ve become the tail of the dragon.”

“I liked being the head of the snake better.”

Yeomyeong smirked and sat across from the two mercenaries.

Sunlight streamed through the train’s windows and spilled over the table as Kim Mansoo spoke.

“Man, look at you. You’ve really filled out since I last saw you. I almost didn’t recognize you at the station.”

Yeomyeong gave a faint smile.

“You’ve changed too, Deputy Chief... I mean that in a good way. You’ve grown stronger.”

He wasn’t being polite—Kim Mansoo’s mana was noticeably denser than the last time they’d met.

“Heh, you can tell just by looking?”

“Yes. It’s obvious at a glance. What happened?”

“Nothing too dramatic. After our merc group got absorbed under Dunggan Heavy Industries, I got to pick up a few nice perks. Damn, those elixirs really do work.”

Kim Mansoo chuckled, adding that Tian Lin had only become a mage thanks to those elixirs.

“...Don’t get carried away in front of the junior. All of it’s on credit, you know. You have no idea how picky dwarves are.”

Tian Lin tried to scold him, but Kim Mansoo just shrugged and kept rambling.

That the Korean government had blocked their activity in Manchuria completely. That joining up with the dwarves had gotten him labeled a traitor. That he’d almost been sniped by Korean troops...

It could’ve been heavy stuff, but Kim Mansoo spoke lightly, like it was nothing worth fussing over.

In the end, it all turned out for the better, so all’s well that ends well—or so he said.

...Anyway.

By the time the train had departed and the dining car staff had wandered off elsewhere, Kim Mansoo cautiously changed the subject.

“So? Why are you here and not at the academy? Wasn’t it just a few days ago I saw your face in the papers?”

Yeomyeong gave a casual shrug.

“Personal reasons.”

“Is it something you need help with?”

Kim Mansoo didn’t even ask for details. He just jumped straight to offering support.

Yeomyeong smiled and shook his head.

“It’s alright. I’ve already dealt with it and I’m on my way back.”

“That so? Good to hear. I figured you’d gotten tangled up in some ridiculous mess again.”

Tian Lin nodded in agreement. Yeomyeong, feeling unexpectedly warm from their concern, decided to ask how the other mercs were doing.

Or at least, he tried to.

But before he could open his mouth, Tian Lin clapped her hands as if she’d remembered something and asked:

“Wait a sec—this thing with you and the Saint being here... is that supposed to be a secret?”

“A secret? No, not really...”

“But it’d still be a problem if the press or a government agency found out, right?”

“...Why are you asking all of a sudden?”

Was there a reporter nearby? A cameraman?

No, unlikely. Earthlings rarely came this deep into foreign zones.

That’s why he hadn’t bothered casting his Tears of Blood illusion yet...

Tian Lin’s expression grew a little more serious as she continued.

“Because there’s a CIA agent aboard this first-class car.”

“...The CIA? A U.S. intelligence officer? How do you even know—”

“They’re our client. We’re escorting them.”

Wait, are you seriously leaking client info just like that? Yeomyeong nearly laughed out loud.

Kim Mansoo elaborated.

“We were originally hired by Dunggan Heavy Industries to escort some merchant... but that merchant suddenly bailed on us and signed with a different merc group. Said he preferred someone from his homeland.”

“...Would that merchant’s name happen to be Tindamel?”

“Oh? How’d you know that?”

“....”

“Well, whatever. Anyway, we were headed back empty-handed when the CIA agent picked us up.”

Yeomyeong felt a strange sense of coincidence—and then, unease.

Was it really a coincidence?

A CIA agent crossing a dimensional gate to the southern reaches of this territory, only to hire a mercenary group on the way back?

...This has something to do with Dreiteriel.

There was no proof. But Yeomyeong’s instincts were sure of it.

After organizing his thoughts for a moment, he spoke.

“Deputy Chief, I know I just said I was fine, but... I’m going to need your help after all.”

“What, you think you need to feel sorry about that? Of course I’ll help.”

It could very well mean betraying their client, but Kim Mansoo nodded without hesitation.

“Alright then. First, I’ll get you a mask or somethi—”

He never finished his sentence.

The moment he said “mask,” Yeomyeong’s face abruptly shifted.

A middle-aged man’s face appeared—the kind Yeomyeong might have if he aged naturally.

While Kim Mansoo stared wide-eyed in shock, Tian Lin, recognizing the illusion as magic, muttered:

“...Guess we don’t need the mask after all.”

****

On a large hill overlooking the railway to the LA dimensional gate—

A woman with bleached-white hair let out a long sigh as she watched the rails.

“Oh, train... oh, journey far away...”

The one who responded to her poetic muttering was a floating skull, suspended in midair.

“Leaving an old home, turning your back on your birthplace. Strangers offer no welcome, and longing ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) cuts deep.”

The skull’s rotten jaw rattled as it recited the lines.

“Oh, train... path of civilization. The green of this land is no different from home, but the one I love is not here...”

The woman shot the skull a sharp look. The gems embedded in its eye sockets glinted.

“‘Homeland and Railway,’ by Pharelrok Lerak. One of my favorite poems.”

She met the skull’s gaze for a long moment, then stood with a sigh.

“...I hate it. Pharelrok was a foolish idealist—stupid enough to believe Earth laid down these railways with good intentions.”

“Isn’t that just the purity of a poet?”

“No. It’s the stupidity of a noble. Who cares if they built the tracks for free? The trains cost money. Maintenance costs money.”

With that, the woman pulled out a staff from her cloak.

It was grotesque—crafted from human bone and monster sinew.

“...Already starting? The train won’t be here until noon.”

The skull chattered nervously, but the woman didn’t reply.

Instead, she drew mana into herself and dropped a black gemstone to the ground.

Clink—

The gem shattered on impact, releasing a massive wave of twisted mana.

It slithered down the hillside like rotten water. The earth quaked. The sunlight warped.

It was a miracle forged from hundreds of corpses—of blood, flesh, and gold.

She had scoured alleys, dug up graves, bribed undertakers...

In the past, none of this would have been necessary.

If Brother Bujum were still alive, or if she still had her ties with the Korean government—

...But now, such thoughts were meaningless. The organization’s coffers were dry. The ritual had already begun.

Rumble...

In the next moment, the twisted mana spread toward the railway and pooled into stagnant puddles.

The dark, blood-red mana, thick like rotting water, tainted the air and polluted the ground.

A sight that would make any mage tremble.

But regrettably, the only witnesses were two necromancers—and the sun.

“...Initiating the ritual.”

Once the white-haired woman confirmed that the twisted mana had spread across the railway, she raised her staff and began chanting.

“O King of the Undying, come forth to this place.”

A massive magic circle bloomed over the tracks, following her incantation and the staff's path.

“O Heaven, descend to this place.”

Soon, the magic circle consumed the ground and the railway in its entirety. It looked like a monster opening its maw—

But outwardly, nothing changed. The railway, the soil—it all looked the same as before the spell.

At least... to the naked eye.

“What a clean link to the spirit realm. A rare treat for the eyes.”

The skull offered praise, but the woman didn’t respond. She could barely stand, staggered by the ritual’s backlash.

The skull, circling her as if concerned, was of no real help.

She didn’t speak again until much later.

“With this... the preparations... are complete...”

Her sweat-soaked hair looked even whiter, as if further bleached. And then she declared:

“That damn Yankee woman... now belongs to us.”

****

As soon as Yeomyeong finished his talk with Kim Mansoo, he returned to his cabin.

He was just about to cast an illusion over the Saint’s face—and while he was at it, maybe sneak a peek at the CIA agent’s face too—

But that’s when a group of mercenaries came marching into the dining car.

Half of them were familiar, and they looked like they were gearing up for a fight.

It didn’t take long to figure out why.

Click-clack, click-clack.

Accompanied by their escort, a young woman entered the dining car.

Mid-twenties, maybe?

She had the unmistakable appearance of someone from Earth.

Not just because of the metal-rimmed glasses or her pristine business suit—things rarely seen on this side of the dimensional gate.

It was her neat chin-length red hair, green eyes, and the faint freckles on her face.

Features unmistakably of Irish descent—a “ginger,” as they were commonly called.

And if there was another defining trait, it was that she looked exhausted from head to toe.

If Yeomyeong hadn’t been told ahead of time that she was a CIA agent, he might’ve mistaken her for an overworked office worker dragging herself home after a long night shift.

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Not a superhuman... but I can sense a trace of mana. A semi-superhuman, maybe. Her only visible weapon is a pistol on her belt... that's it.

He completed his assessment in seconds, and tried to walk past her without a glance.

But the moment he took a step, she stared directly at him.

...What? Did she just pierce through the Tears of Blood illusion?

Yeomyeong instinctively averted his gaze in the most natural way possible.

The mercenaries politely stepped aside to let him through—but then a drowsy voice reached out and stopped his feet.

“Excuse me?”

“...Yes?”

“Since we happen to be on the same train, do you mind if I ask your name?”

Her words were polite, but he could still sense the suspicion behind them.

She didn’t seem to have pierced the illusion, but then what was this?

Yeomyeong studied her for a moment, then responded in a flat tone.

“On this side of the world, we usually give our own name before asking someone else’s.”

“...Ah, right. Sorry. Occupational habit—I forget things like that sometimes.”

“....”

“My name is Scarlett O’Hara. Would you be so kind as to share yours, sir?”

Scarlett O’Hara? Yeomyeong barely resisted the urge to frown. That was definitely an alias.

Really? You’re gonna name yourself after the lead character in Gone with the Wind? There’s a limit to how obvious you can be.

He swallowed his suspicion and responded smoothly.

“My name is Rhett Butler.”

“...Huh?”

As soon as he said the name of the male lead from Gone with the Wind, her expression twisted ever so slightly.

“You’re from Earth, then?”

“Why else would I be on a train bound for the LA Dimensional Gate?”

With that, Yeomyeong turned away.

Some of the mercs looked ready to block his path, but after Kim Mansoo let out a deliberate ahem, they wisely stepped aside.

Yeomyeong exited the dining car without another word.

“...Black hair and gold eyes. Could it be a coincidence?”

Watching his back as he walked away, Scarlett narrowed her green eyes.

One hour until lunch.

Thirty minutes until the Saint kicked Corvus out of the cabin.