The World of Masks

Charles was an ordinary American who could be seen anywhere. She's 27 this year. Working in a small cannery near my home, I was continuing to have a pleasant life. The odds are that she was unilaterally notified of her breakup by her girlfriend, whom she had just dated three years ago. Charles remembered that day as the worst day of his life.

I spent a week drunk with my friends, desperate as the world was ending. I didn't think I could live for a day, but after a week, I began to sink, and I found myself searching for another woman one month later. And I figured it out. Charles himself complained about not being able to live with himself when he broke up with his girlfriend, but that he had lived well so far.

'Somehow they were bothering me.'

I remember the look in my friends' eyes when I put on a beer bottle, crying and moaning. Obviously, the look in his eyes was the look of 'This guy is crazy again'.

I was disappointed. No matter how often you complain, but a true friend needs to be comforted. Charles sighs again, saying he had the wrong friend. Of course, if Charles' friend were in the same situation and did the same thing, Charles would be watching him steam.

But that wasn't the point. Yesterday I lost a bet to a factory colleague and blew up $20, and now I have no connection with a restaurant waitress named Rachel who's been so interested in me.

Charles sat on the couch and watched TV. Hot news has been spreading lately.

A surprise attack on an unidentified enemy that began about three months ago. It was featured in a featured documentary that could not be seen in third-rate films.

Charles watched the video being broadcast from the TV with his sinking eyes. When I first encountered the incident, I was struck by fear and anxiety. The feeling sank a little after some time, and every time I saw the news on the subject of the incident, I was terrified again. But now Charles has added fear and anxiety.

It was embarrassing.

Charles wraps his hands around his head.

"So I'm supposed to take care of those fucking things?"

There was no one in the house. Charles didn't even have a regular dog or a cat living alone. After all, Charles mutters to himself. It was strange. Charles was a mere mortal. There was no history of mental illness, no abuse when I was a child (of course, just as many other children were.) It was not that the family was unhappy. Maybe he's been alive all of a sudden. Maybe he's having a mental breakdown. But Charles was definitely talking to someone. With Charles giving himself a headache.

[Yes.]

A solemn and heavy voice answers Charles' question. But the voice was not heard in his ears. The air did not tremble, nor did it shake the eardrums. His voice was conveying his will to Charles' own mind.

"Why would I?"

Charles is an ordinary man, as my sister says. Of course, I admire heroes as much as Americans. There were also tons of Hero comics from DC and Marvel in the house. But it's different from admiring a hero. Charles was a sociopath who wanted to earn enough, live enough, and die enough. Then one day, he suddenly appeared as a hero and told me to beat up the monsters that are attacking mankind.

Charles ripped his head off.

It was roughly a week ago that I began to hear the voice of the master of another world. Suddenly [Do you hear my voice?] I heard a happy voice, and I started rambling on about what I didn't ask for. That's why the fort seems to be taking a lot of neurotransmitters. At work, I was cursed to concentrate. I had never heard it before in my life when I was different from my boyfriend.

In his voice, who introduced himself as "Ueron," who had given him to the other world, he wondered if he had been doing drugs without knowing it. But I haven't taken any cold medicine lately, let alone drugs.

I wonder if the sequelae of being dumped by my boyfriend is what's happening now. This may be psychosis. Then, did he love her so much?

Oh, yeah!

I remember meeting a man with better conditions and giving him a refreshing break. Of course, he was arrogant and had a hard time breaking up, but that's not what everybody does. I don't remember loving her enough to come to me with a mental illness.

[You're not crazy.]

"Of course you are."

Charles snorts, but who is this snooping at? Who doesn't know what's going on in their head? Or a madman himself? Whoever it is will not return a satisfactory answer.

[If necessary, for such a human .]

His voice kicks his tongue. I can't believe you were ignored by a psychopath. Charles thought he might be even more worthless than he thought.

Charles raises his hand. Hold your fist and only twist your index finger and thumb. I thought I was concentrating and gathering my strength.

Boom!

The thunder sounds. You grimace and frown. However, he sighed deeply at the phenomenon between his index finger and thumb.

Paper work!

A blue concussion was splicing like a bridge between the thumb and the index finger. Even though I made a small strand of lightning like this thread, there was a ringing sound. It was evidence that this lightning had an unusual power. But even though the lightning of such power was directly flowing, Charles' fingers did not have any burns or injuries.

This is why Charles isn't looking for a mental hospital right now. Like his voice said, there was a superpower that could come out of cartoons or movies. There was such direct and clear evidence in front of his eyes that he could not completely ignore the words of his voice.

"Hey!"

I spoke to my voice.

[What the hell.]

The half-expected voice came back. At first, Charles shuddered to say no to the human subject, but as Charles ignored it freshly, he soon gave up. Now we can talk face-to-face like this.

"If we leave it like this, will the Earth perish?"

Charles' attention reflects his voice.

[Yes, I will. The world will perish if we do nothing. There's no way that he would stand idly by with all his priorities in protecting his world. You will sacrifice this world to resurrect it.]

His voice seemed to have a great vendetta against him. His voice grows rougher, but it has nothing to do with Charles.

"You said it was because of you. What's wrong with you?"

Her voice is silent. Whether it's shame or shame, Charles accepts that it's not something you can do.

Charles sighs deeply again. He said that the end of the world must be a long time ago. At least not while Charles is alive. So I'm really going to close my eyes and turn away. However, according to his voice, if his plan is executed, a tremendous human being will die. There is no guarantee that you will not fit in there. I have family and friends I want to protect. Eventually, Charles decided to follow his voice. Honestly, there's no denying that there was a psychology about wanting to be a hero.

"Then what should I do?"

[From now on, there will be the superpowers you speak of. The ones with the pieces of power we lost when we came into this world. We must surround them and find the other gods and their contractors who have been scattered.]

"Like me?"

[Like you. That's a hell of a lot of power. We should be able to take on his army of invaders from beyond dimensions.]

"That's good, but how can I?"

He's not a hero of any kind. It was not something that could be done by a worker working in a small cannery.

[Borrow the power of the country. We should borrow the power of other Humans as well as the Humans who possess our power. So let's go see the president.]

"We're going to the White House?"

If his voice had been real, he would have thrown a fist without saying a word.

"You don't think you'll let me meet the President at the White House if I explain myself?" "

You'll be lucky if you don't get arrested.

[Of course not in the normal way.]

The voice has made an outrageous request with an argument that it is natural.

[So sneak in.]

Charles wanted to cry.

* * *

The White House, located in Washington D.C., the United States capital of the world's most powerful nation, is the residence of the President of the United States. The heart of America, literally. Given that the United States is the only superpower that encompasses the world, it shouldn't be wrong to call it the center of the world.

The President of the United States barely went back to bed with a tired body today. Otherwise, by boasting about the police state of the world, I was tired of confronting unknown beings who had appeared three months ago because of the world's conflict that caused many times more trouble than other countries. Besides 9 11, even the United States was attacked by monsters that never allowed an attack on the mainland. The pride of the United States of America was scratched without reason.

I have indigestion and insomnia. A few days ago, there was alopecia. Why did this happen during his tenure? I wanted to yell at the sky.

Today, he held meetings with military officers, CIA and FBI chiefs, insulted congressmen, and spoke to the people who were anxious. The press, of course, said they had not prepared a proper course of action.

I was so scared to open my eyes tomorrow. But on the outside, I always looked energetic and confident. No matter how I felt, I had to do it. He thought it was his duty to lead the country.

Today, I turned back and forth and urged her not to come to sleep. The mattress was soft made of soft and good cloth, but it did not comfort the weary mind.

I unconsciously stuttered beside him. I've used each room with my wife since the incident broke out. He got up early and came in late, and often reports came in at dawn, so he suggested it first. The wife who was aware of the husband's situation nodded quietly. She was definitely a good wife.

Queek!

You hear the door open. The president opened his eyes narrowly and closed his eyes again. No one opens the door like this in the president's bedroom. Especially when you're so ambitious. I even snored a little. However, you move your arm so that the person who came in doesn't notice. Immediately, I felt a eerie and cold feeling unique to the pistol. It was prepared just in case.

The president silently detects the trigger and decides the timing to get up. It was then.

"I know you're awake."

I hear the killer's voice. It was a pretty young voice. The president's throat was cold sweating.

"I don't mean any harm. You can keep the gun. Let's talk for a minute, Mr. President."

The president quietly folded his sheets and got up.