Daily Disposable Persona

“Good. What do you want as a reward?”

The words almost, but not quite, drove Zong Yan to exasperation.

He’d barely managed to mobilize every single brain cell in a very short period while dancing on the edge of death, and he had no idea why, but he was even forced to stare at the actual body of Yog-Sothoth, so that right now his back was soaking wet with sweat. But the other party just nonchalantly asked, What do you want as a reward?

Zong Yan: “Any reward? Then how about letting me graduate?”

Tawil narrowed his eyes. “As your advisor, I can’t be so irresponsible. If I were to let you graduate now, there’s a good chance you’d be in danger from otherworldly creatures in the future.”

Oh, come on. Now you’re role-playing some kind of sense of responsibility? What a bare-faced con.

Zong Yan chuckled. “For an evil god you’re really devoted to the future development of the human occult world.” 

But as he spoke, he suddenly got an idea. “How about this, Your Holiness Yog-Sothoth? I could use some physics knowledge.

“Oh, I mean, all I need is physics for senior year three. I don’t need too much, namely, the kind that would explode a human brain.”

Seeing Tawil’s smiling face, Zong Yan immediately added conditions.

He hadn’t forgotten that the evil god in front of him liked to cram his followers with knowledge so enthusiastically that their brain capacity burst and turned them into vegetables.

“Only my believers are eligible to receive my knowledge. I can give you a pile of 《Five Years of College Entrance Exams, Three Years of Simulations》 or the 《Wang Hou Xiong》 series.”

The gray-haired, golden-eyed man gave a smile, and his pale, slender fingers slowly drifted across the edge of his white robe, with a subtle hint of freehand brushwork. “Or—do you intend to become my follower?”

Zong Yan: …

It’s not impossible. I can pretend to convert, then apostatize after I get what I want.

But he was sitting in front of the god himself right now, and he’d once said something similar to Senior Tawil. He didn’t dare repeat it.

So the Night Watchman ended the conversation and silently returned his eyes to the stage.

Meanwhile, the performance proceeded. But the wailing and screaming of countless souls were almost unbearable for Zong Yan.

What was even more terrifying was that as he listened carefully he realized those souls weren’t screaming in pain, but crying with excitement. This was the pious worship of the faithful.

“Carcosa! The glorious, ancient kingdom of Carcosa! My lord, the King in Yellow, I present my soul to you. Open the gates of life and death and lead me to your kingdom.”

There was no doubt about it. Although untold numbers of people had died here, they weren’t the same as the souls in the tower. These people had died of their own free will, voluntarily giving their blood, building the foundation with their bones, constructing the stage with their flesh, singing and sacrificing their souls.

The guard on the stage, Bremchas, sang in a loud voice, “Behold! For the spire of Carcosa, which rises up beneath the moon, is our only home!”

Although the dead couldn’t be heard by ordinary people, they joined their voices joyously with the play, like a ghostly danse macabre.

Zong Yan was horrified to hear it, and his worry for Wang KeMing and Edward grew more and more intense.

The smell of blood was so strong here that he didn’t know how many people had been murdered by the Order of Feasters, bewitched and then pushed into the fire.

He forced himself to endure it until he finally got up from his seat.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t choose to act just yet.” Tawil said lazily, “Haven’t you noticed that none of your investigators from MU have lifted a finger?”

Shocked, Zong Yan couldn’t help but look to the side.

Investigators with badges on their chest lined the back of the theater, each one looking grim-faced. Hoshino Kota, the leader, looked even worse, pale and sweating. Either way, they were watching the play unfold without directly intervening.

Zong Yan’s heart sank.

He’d once seen a situation like this in the library in an investigator’s notes.

If a sacrifice to an evil god began and it was halted in the middle, it would cause the evil god’s temper to erupt. There was once a cult that secretly sacrificed to the Black Goat of the Forest. After the ceremony was interrupted by investigators, it provoked the displeasure of the god. Neither the cultists nor the investigators returned alive. Later, someone repaired a camera found at the scene, which was how they deduced what happened.

“Hey you in the first row, sit down!”

Zong Yan had suddenly stood up from his seat, and the audience members behind him vocally expressed their unhappiness. He could only hold the brim of his top hat and awkwardly sit down again.

“If it’s not you, who’s behind it?” Before the gray-haired man could speak again, Zong Yan quickly added, “This is the reward I want.”

Tawil’s eyes shifted.

He was a bit confused.

When MU investigators faced an actual evil god—excluding, of course, the ones who were insane—as a rule they were trembling and frightened out of their minds. Unless someone was a crazed, devout fanatic, it was almost impossible to maintain absolute sanity before the gods.

In a word, shouldn’t he be terrified? If other races in the universe, let alone humans, were to face a god directly, they wouldn’t be half as bold as Zong Yan.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked suddenly.

“No…. I’m afraid.” Zong Yan immediately corrected himself.

With an equal mix of joy and anger he said, “You’re not afraid of me. Why?”

Tawil was interested, perhaps because his omniscience had so little effect on the tiny human before him, and so this interest grew and grew to a level that was incredible even for a god.

Why ask why? How many reasons do you need?

Zong Yan’s eye twitched. “Just… it’s useless to be afraid.”

In fact, Zong Yan had no idea himself. He was afraid that if he didn’t say the right thing the other man would flip the table.

If it was just a Great Old One, that would be one thing, but the being in front of him had suddenly turned out to be one of the three original gods. It wouldn’t take him a second to destroy the Earth.

Zong Yan didn’t want to stand condemned for all time, but now that he thought about it, he still had the Azathoth card.

Even a rabbit would jump over a wall if it was in trouble. If Zong Yan really got worried, just watch, he could turn into your father Azathoth in a minute, believe it or not!

“Oh.” Tawil narrowed his eyes and didn’t say whether he believed it. “The meddler behind the scenes is Nyarlathotep.”

Nyarla, who was presiding over the altar backstage, hadn’t expected Yog-Sothoth to sell him out the moment he left.

“…”

Zong Yan: “Don’t you Outer Gods have better things to do?”

“Do not confuse me with Nyarla. Among all the Outer Gods he’s the biggest good-for-nothing,” Tawil said with displeasure. “Few among the Outer Gods would sneak into the headquarters of another sect like this.”

Yes, between one god and another, certain rules were implicitly maintained.

Aside from evil gods who were sworn enemies, sects were generally independent and didn’t interfere with each other. After all, the gods weren’t bored enough for such things. They were higher-dimensional beings who’d existed for countless years. If they fought, entire galaxies would collapse. And many were sealed in various corners of the universe. They had other priorities.

That is, except for Nyarlathotep, that villain, who had nothing better to do all day than roll up one avatar after another, each one pushing along a different pile of schemes. He was the only one who’d bother.

He’d infiltrated numerous cults and instigated them to do all sorts of things. At first those cultists were grateful, until they found they’d unexpectedly angered their god. Later on, when some of the evil gods realized something was wrong, they discovered Nyarlathotep’s handwriting all over it. Nodens, the Lord of the Abyss, had a feud with Nyarla for that very reason. Of course, there were other gods than that, but Nyarla did everything covertly. He loved nothing better than to stand off to the side watching others fight, then leave everything unsettled.

Only the omniscient Yog knew how much this guy had done behind the scenes to secretly harm the universe. If everything was exposed, forget humans, maybe forty percent of the gods would unite to cause trouble for Nyarla.

… And the worst thing of all was that Nyarlathotep was the envoy of the Lord of the Universe. He was one of the three pillar gods, and his power was unfathomable. Even if he was hated, almost no one was his match.

“Then what about these dead people—?”

“‘Evil god’ is just a unilateral label given to us by you humans.”

The higher-dimensional Yog-Sothoth took pity on him and simulated the human mind for a moment. “If humans want something from the gods, they should naturally pay a price. For human beings, the most precious thing is life. Is there something wrong with giving your most precious possession to your god?”

Just then, a figure with a black robe and a face as pale as paper appeared on the stage.

Zong Yan vaguely remembered there were people in the choir known as the “Brotherhood of the Yellow Seal”.

“We’ve taken off our masks. It’s time for you to take off yours as well.”

The rest of the brothers removed their masks, leaving the figure standing alone at the front of the stage.

The stranger smiled. “I have no mask.

“I am real.”

The first act ended. The heavy curtain fell from both sides of the stage and slowly swept across the floor.

The soaring voices of the chorus came to a sudden halt, followed by a wave of applause from the audience.

Most of the people here had previously seen the first act. They were here tonight, more than anything, for what was to come.

The second act was about to begin.

Zong Yan thought there’d be an intermission before the second act, but as it turned out, even though the curtain had been dropped, the play continued on the stage.

Dazzling light and shadow suddenly began to emerge from the center of the backdrop and gradually encompassed the stage.

The guests widened their eyes. When they glimpsed the light and shadow, they were instantly dragged into the illusion.

Zong Yan instinctively opened the black umbrella to block his vision.

But it was to no avail. The illusion had already grown to envelop the entire theater, including the people inside.

Now they were seated on a huge pedestal wrought of white bones and flesh. Below them was the impenetrable city with its ancient walls, and a tall, unearthly spire stretched high above it all.

—The city of Carcosa.

Remembering the heavenly city the spirits had praised, Zong Yan was shocked.

There was no doubt this was the territory of a Great Old One.

The cult had finally succeeded in calling their god, and their god had answered.

—

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The author has something to say: 

Bubbles: Why aren’t you afraid of me?

Zong Yan: Because I can become your daddy anywhere, anytime

TL Notes:

Five Years of College Entrance Exams, Three Years of Simulations – 五年高考三年模拟 – A popular study prep guide

Wang Hou Xiong Series – 王后雄系列 – A popular series of math exercise books

freehand brushwork – 写意 – freehand brushwork used in traditional Chinese painting; lightly written

The King in Yellow by Thom Ryng (1999) contains a guard character named Bremchas, but I wasn’t able to confirm whether the passages quoted in this chapter are actually from that book. It’s only available in paperback.

ghostly danse macabre – 群魔乱舞 – Demons and monsters danced like mad; a host of demons dancing in riotous revelry; Evil spirits of all kinds danced in riotous revelry; Ghosts and demons danced in riotous revelry

flip the table – from 翻脸不认人 – deny a friend; break old friendship; pretend not to know old friends; turn one’s back on old associates

leave everything unsettled – 不了了之 – settle a matter by leaving it unsettled; smother up; by leaving it unsettled; conclude without a conclusion

Transliterated names, titles, and places—new in this chapter:

Bremchas – 布莱姆查斯 – Bùláimǔchásī