Reincarnated In a Cthulhu World And Everyone Is Obsessed With Me - Chapter 44

Chapter 44: Muse – God opened a door for him, but it was a “creepy” one…

The air here was damp and secluded. Corrosive fluids left by the monster tide were separated by an alien metal ceiling, creating an unsettling, rhythmic dripping sound.

With every step Limbo took, a section of lights would flicker to life—neon pink, fluorescent blue, bright yellow, titanium white. Flame red, turquoise green, lavender purple. The clashing color palette brought a strong visual impact, a sensory overload bordering on vertigo.

More disturbing than the scrap metal and machinery common in the Northern Ruin were the “artworks” scattered haphazardly—at least, that’s what Limbo called them. Rubber molds, plaster sculptures, murals… and life-sized dolls so realistic they were nauseating. The skin, hair, and veins were lifelike; only the eyes lacked a living luster, as if the souls had been vacuumed out.

This was Limbo’s private underground palace.

Limbo passed the authentication and entered the innermost room. He carried a medium-rare steak and a bottle of vintage red wine, looking pleased. From the ceiling to the baseboards, the room was shrouded in thick black velvet drapes. A crystal chandelier hung low, holding long, flickering candles that provided the only light.

In this “gift box” of black velvet, the man Limbo had hidden away was the sole treasure.

The man was severely injured; he had been unconscious for three days. Limbo hadn’t used a medical pod; he preferred to let the man’s excellent Guide constitution heal the flesh naturally. A pod would wake him too soon, and Limbo was still infatuated with this perfect, silent shell.

The man’s long, seaweed-like hair was spread across the velvet like rare silk. Limbo had dressed him in a black velvet gown. A pearl forehead ornament rested on his brow—round and lustrous, contrasting with the man’s sharp charisma, yet fitting perfectly.

Absolute beauty blurs the lines of gender. Limbo finished his dinner while admiring him, thinking with a touch of regret: If only he would stop breathing, he’d be even more beautiful. If he were a corpse, I would love him to the point of madness.

…

Opinions on Limbo in the Northern Ruin varied. Some called him a top-tier erotic master; others saw him as a businessman who hit every consumer pain point with his videos. Some saw a madman with depraved tastes.

But Limbo only had one label for himself: Artist. He lived for art. If the world was at peace, he made peaceful art; if the world was ending, he made apocalyptic art. As long as he had a place to create, the destruction of the world was irrelevant to him.

Meeting this man at the arena was an unexpected joy. On the day Xia Mingyu mentally manipulated the entire crowd, only Sea Amber and Limbo remained unaffected. Had Limbo not taken him, the man would likely be Sea Amber’s new lover or her first “Prince of Killers.”

To Limbo, his name didn’t matter. He was simply “Muse.”

…

Xia Mingyu was sinking in a sea of blood.

Thirst. He craved blood more than oxygen. He couldn’t stop swinging his blade. The golden pupils in his mind narrowed, laughing like an innocent child.

He woke up. First came the piercing pain of his wounds, then the cold sensation of restraints. Neck, wrists, ankles—all locked in mental suppressors. He shook his hands, causing a jingle of chains.

His senses were still blurred by Selena’s snake venom. He realized he was wrapped in layers of bandages and wearing a velvet dress. He went silent. Still alive. Lucky, I suppose. But this time, I didn’t run into someone like Gustav.

He reached up and tore the cumbersome pearls from his forehead, letting them scatter across the velvet floor. God closed a window for me, but opened a door—a creepy one.

The sound of a door opening.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The voice was mellow and expensive, like the clinking of champagne flutes.

Xia Mingyu didn’t recognize the voice. Usually, one would ask “Who are you?” but Xia simply smiled. Using the mental power he could still muster, he shaped the fallen pearls into nail-sized blades and flung them toward the sound.

The man caught them.

Limbo wasn’t angry. “Hello, Xia Mingyu. I am Limbo.”

Xia stiffened. In the Ruin, only Archer should know his full name. He mulled over the name “Limbo” and smiled. “Limbo? Tell me, what do you want from me?”

Given his attire, he could guess. He hated this materialistic world.

Limbo stepped over the crushed pearls and tilted Xia’s chin up, obsessed with his living expression. “Want? No. Art cannot be ‘possessed.’ It is divine inspiration.”

Oh, he’s just a lunatic, Xia thought calmly.

Limbo leaned down, his breath falling on Xia’s neck. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Xia’s Adam’s apple as he bit into the largest pearl on the necklace.

Xia laughed softly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

In a flash—

The chains binding Xia’s hands whipped around Limbo’s neck, strangling him. Limbo’s face turned a violent red, but he burst into a frantic, suffocating laugh, as if he couldn’t die fast enough.

Xia’s expression remained cold. He had seen enough madmen to be numb.

“Kill me…” Limbo wheezed. “You’ll… never… get out…”

Xia ignored him. He tightened the chains with the grace of someone drawing a bow, prolonging the agony.

“Muse… I love you… I want to die for you…”

“You are indeed dying,” Xia said flatly.

In Limbo’s bloodshot vision, Xia was a masterpiece of cruelty. Never let me possess you, Limbo thought. Otherwise… I will utterly destroy you.

The last words didn’t just come from Limbo’s broken throat; Xia heard a clear echo from somewhere else.

The decapitated Limbo collapsed. Blood stained the black velvet and the white pearls. Xia didn’t care about the warmth on his skin; he was wondering: Did I not actually kill him?

The sound of a door opening and closing.

“Beauty! …Oh, heavens, what happened here?”

Xia looked toward the voice—it was the man in the floral shirt from the arena.