What, truly, is the most perfect happiness?
“Ah, of course, I already know.”
Perfect happiness doesn’t exist anywhere. The laws of the world are strange things—when one extre is reached, the other must balance it.
“But that’s not the kind of trite ssage I want to deliver. Humanity’s greatest blessing—and curse—lies in our delicate intelligence, in our ability to imagine endlessly.”
So let’s suppose. What is the greatest happiness for ? What do humans live for? Wouldn’t living within an endless utopia be the true endpoint of happiness?
Yet even in that, why do humans seek out a sense of lacking?
“Countless people have offered gold and jewels. They built hos from ancient gold, bathed in the tears of fairies, made bedding woven from the leaves of the World Tree.”
And the list of gifts Zeorge received did not end there. He was given everything a human could imagine. Zeorge never denied their rarity or value.
“But sohow, none of it felt good. Why was that, I wonder...”
Isn’t it strange? Zeorge liked shiny things. He liked beautiful things. He felt joy in receiving rare items, excitent when gaining sothing of great value. But that was it.
“That’s why I’ve been pondering for a long ti. What is happiness? What is it that refuses to yield even a decent formula? What must I do to finally beco happy?”
Ah, it was dull.
“So dull.”
I want joy.
I don’t want to collapse into re nature and mystery. I want to remain human to the end, to feel the pinnacle of delight. I’m not a heatless statue, nor a cold gem. ...At least, I didn’t used to be. Now I’m not so sure.
I’m certainly alive, and yet the blood doesn’t seem to circulate. My heart beats, but slowly grows cold. Once upon a ti, the noise of an inn or a single star over a field could make so elated...
“It would be best if you didn’t bore any further.”
Zeorge had lived far too long.
“You must entertain .”
So you must all beco my clowns.
Yes, I’ve lived. I’ve lived through it all. Had I given up on being human from the start, surrendered to nature ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) and mystery, perhaps things would’ve been easier. But I missed that chance long ago. Now I carry too many sins.
If I were to beco a full garden...
“...Things won’t go well for you.”
I love you.
That’s why I hate you.
“......”
...I have no strength.
Isn’t there anything fun to do?
***
A colorful clown asked a passing man:
『What is your happiness?』
“M-Monster...?”
『What is your joy?』
“...Aren’t you a monster?”
『What is your pleasure?』
“......”
The man blinked. He had just finished work and was heading ho. His eyes, dull and sunken, gradually steadied at the clown’s repeated questions. Then, as if hypnotized, he replied:
“...Going ho... drinking a beer before bed... that’s nice.”
It was no more than a crude imitation of wheat beer made from dungeon scraps and leftover grain. But the man had never had real beer, so to him, it was the best drink. It satisfied him. It helped him sleep.
Then the clown asked:
『Is that your happiness?』
“Yes, that’s my happiness.”
『Why is that your happiness?』
“Alcohol makes my head go fuzzy. When I drink it with sothing salty... it’s addictive. It makes want to just... stay in that mont.”
『That is your happiness.』
Clap clap clap!
The clown applauded.
『Be happy! Rejoice!』
『May you always feel joy!』
And when the man ca to, he was standing in his ho.
“......”
When did I get off work?
『Does that matter?』
『Does a question like that protect your happiness?』
『Are you happy?』
Maybe that wasn’t important. What mattered was that he had co ho. That’s what he told himself. He took a step forward, but the suit he wore felt heavy and exhausting.
『Then take it off!』
It was reasonable advice. He imdiately stripped off the suit and draped it over the couch. He changed into comfortable clothes and headed into the kitchen. Without aning to, he counted the remaining beer cans in the fridge.
『There are four.』
『How many will you drink?』
Maybe just one tonight, since I have to work tomorrow.
『Is that your happiness?』
『Does that make you happy?』
Truthfully, it didn’t satisfy him. He loved to drink. He only bought the cheapest beers because he couldn’t afford anything else. If he had money, he’d have tried more. But he didn’t. No money, no ti, no space to breathe.
He carried a can into the living room, disappointed. He brought so dried squid to chew on—sothing that lasted longer. It too was dungeon food, but not bad at all.
He placed both on a small table. It felt oddly empty.
『Are you happy?』
Not really. It didn’t feel that way. He opened the beer and took a sip. On the TV, the sa program aired as always. Nothing new.
『Does that make you happy?』
『Do you feel joy when you watch that?』
Hard to say. He didn’t know. But it didn’t require thinking. That was comforting. He just didn’t want to sit alone in the silence like a pitiful man. That’s all.
A little noise was better than none. The TV served as a drinking companion.
『You aren’t happy.』
『You seem lonely.』
『Do you hate being alone?』
There probably aren’t many people in the world who like being alone. Sure, so say they do, but go on like that for years and they’re bound to feel lonely. He chewed on the dried squid.
『Is it tasty?』
『Does it bring joy?』
Not really. But the chewy sweetness eventually ca through, and the salty seasoning was nice. It paired decently with beer, at least. But did it bring happiness? That was harder to answer.
『How sad.』
Sad? Maybe so. Maybe the fact that soone was talking to him made the loneliness more apparent. He thought of that and suddenly had another question.
‘...If I have a friend, why am I lonely? That doesn’t make sense...’
『Does that help your happiness?』
‘...I don’t know.’
『In that case, focus on the happiness right in front of you, friend!』
‘Yeah. I should.’
He needed to sleep soon. He wished this ti could last longer, but he knew it wouldn’t. If he didn’t get to bed early, he wouldn’t look human at work tomorrow.
『Does work help your happiness?』
In a way, yes. It was hard. His boss was a nightmare. But it gave him money. Getting paid by others was always tough work, wasn’t it?
『Is your happiness money?』
No, it wasn’t. What he needed wasn’t money, but sothing he could obtain through money. Sothing that could satisfy him.
『And what is that?』
『Beer?』
『Salty-sweet snacks?』
『The comfort they give?』
Yes, maybe what he really wanted was comfort. This small window of ti freed him. It was his only escape from a suffocating life. No risk. Always within reach. A small, certain happiness.
That was enough to comfort him.
『That is your happiness.』
『May you always feel joy!』
Was it really joy?
『Of course!』
Then... I guess it is.
***
“And the next day, Mr. Lee In-Uk’s fridge was found filled with the sa beer he’d drunk. There were even higher-quality snacks than dried squid. According to analysis, they were Earth-grown products.”
One researcher spoke, and another asked:
“It seems like one of those wish-granting Mysteries. But is that all? Mysteries of this type always require a price.”
“We’ll get to that. Mr. Lee In-Uk reportedly remained dazed for a while. But those around him didn’t notice anything strange. Not even when one coworker—soone he often fought with—went missing.”
“You an the boss he ntioned to the clown, right?”
“Exactly. We believe that had a major influence. It was also part of why Lee In-Uk voluntarily ca to report himself. He was trembling with guilt, thinking he may have caused the disappearance.”
The researcher shrugged.
“Currently, Mr. Lee is undergoing treatnt at a hospital under the Association.”
“Hm, sounds like a type of... enchantnt addiction. He was definitely enchanted, right?”
“Our lab tests confirm that. But it’s interesting—if the subject becos persistently aware that sothing is wrong, they can snap out of it. That’s a rare trait.”
“Well, he is a civilian. Most who get ensnared by the clown’s words fall quickly. It’s not like he had any resistance to enchantnt.”
“True. And while enchantnt is easy to fall into, it seems escaping it isn’t as hard as we thought. Besides Mr. Lee’s case, we’ve docunted three others.”
“All non-awakened?”
“Yes, all of them.”
“Sounds like a ‘monkey’s paw’ type of Mystery. Grants wishes, but the outco is always tragic?”
The Monkey’s Paw was a type of ghost story—one that granted human wishes in horrific, twisted ways.
For example, if you wished for money, it might kill your family and pay you the insurance. It granted the wish, but the thod was intolerable.
Before the Great Catastrophe, it was just a story. But with Mysteries erging, such tales had begun manifesting in the real world. This “clown” appeared to be one of them.
“So the emotional tragedy the subject experiences... that’s the price?”
“About half of it, yes.”
The researcher flipped through a report.
“The other half seems to occur when the subject never escapes the temptation—or fails to notice anything is wrong. We suspect that’s when the subject becos a clown.”
“Is that theory based on witness reports?”
“No one has seen the transformation directly. But when a subject fails to break free, they eventually disappear—and a new clown, identical in appearance, is spotted. We’ve confird two such cases.”
“That’s not solid proof, but still... pretty compelling.”
The researcher scratched his head.
“...I don’t know if we’ll be able to contain this one.”
“We haven’t even figured out what conditions make the clown appear. At best, we know it ‘approaches people in need of happiness.’ But that’s way too broad to qualify as a condition.”
“There’s no one in this world who doesn’t need happiness.”
“Exactly. And it doesn’t only appear to people who are alone, either. This Mystery has shown up in crowds, and no one notices anything strange.”
“So people rember seeing it—but don’t feel it was weird?”
“Yes. Ask any witness directly, and they’ll say it wasn’t strange at all. In a way, that’s even trickier. If it erased mories or erased its presence, at least you’d feel the gap...”
“But this way, no one reports it, even when they see it. God, that’s insane.”
“Hm...”
One researcher turned to their superior.
“Should we request help from the Gardeners?”
“...Yeah, we might have to.”
“It’s not just so monster, is it?”
“Exactly.”
That day, a summon request was sent to the Gardeners.
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