Simultaneous Transmigration: A Fateful Traveler's Journey Begins in Mystery

They have no physical bodies and exist as "memes," more like "memories" than "humans."

"Hahaha, what kind of question is that? Are you angry and want to hit me?"

The clown pointed at Moraine and laughed heartily, his laughter growing even louder.

Modern pubs take pleasure in tormenting others, and one of their sources of enjoyment is driving people to the brink of despair.

"Do you want a painting made? You've gotten so angry you're going crazy." He clutched his stomach and laughed mockingly.

But Moraine just smiled and didn't say anything.

He seemed completely unconcerned by the clown's mockery.

But how could that be possible?

He's extremely petty.

The clown was laughing when his voice suddenly stopped, as if something was stuck in his throat.

His throat really swelled up.

The laughter of the others around him continued, but he could no longer make a sound. His eyes were wide open, his mouth was agape, and his hands began to flail and struggle.

A few seconds later.

A white moth emerged from his mouth.

These moths did not leave the frame.

They are part of the painting.

Next came the ears and eyes, followed by one bulge after another that gradually appeared on the body.

One after another, the bulges burst open, and white, translucent moths emerged from them.

“If the Memory Master can do it, then I can probably do it too.” Moraine winked at the Joker.

This is rambling nonsense.

It is a worm offspring researched by Morion in the mysterious world.

The insects are bred by implanting the name "Unending Whispers" into the minds of others, and then using it as a nest to cultivate their offspring after they lose control and become monsters.

He couldn't summon the Queen Worm across worlds, but unfortunately, this clown couldn't even defeat the weakest of the parasites.

There's nothing we can do about that.

After all, he was just a painting.

It's normal for things to spoil if they get eaten by insects.

“It’s just a worm that eats up memories,” Moraine explained with a laugh. “It won’t cause any harm to the body.”

“I’ve heard that there is no death in Pinocone, so you can rest assured.”

The surrounding noise suddenly stopped.

Immediately afterwards, the portraits that had been lingering in the surrounding frames scattered in all directions.

These paintings are by the natives of Pinocchio, not by tourists who entered through the Dream Pool.

They are "meme life".

For meme life forms, losing their memories is equivalent to death.

"They got away," Hanabi kindly reminded her.

“I know,” Moraine said with a smile, “it’s just a laugh, it’s okay.”

He said.

"But, what can I do? I'm petty."

You think you can just run away after offending the King Insect?

He had barely finished speaking when he heard various noises coming from the picture frame not far away.

Soon, several white, translucent moths appeared on every painting in the tavern.

“Perhaps the tavern’s branch in Pinocchio should be renamed the Swarm Memorial,” Moraine said to Fireworks with a laugh. “Look, there are images of moths everywhere.”

There are all sorts of positions available.

How fresh!

“My children are on the wall! I’m so flattered.”

The surrounding laughter mocking Morion immediately subsided.

“You can’t do this,” Morion turned to look at them. “Not showing pity for the weak, nor fearing the strong. That’s what the will of a hegemon should look like.”

"Domineering should be above all else, not like you people who are so timid and submissive."

"Just because I'm strong, you don't dare to continue bullying me? What kind of behavior is this?"

"Listen carefully, your will to dominate is crying."

But these words did not comfort the fools around them.

Their whispers suddenly quieted down, until they were almost gone.

If the people here are truly just masked fools who find pleasure in mocking others, then they can genuinely laugh even at Morion's current state.

They mocked Moraine's counterattack, mocked those cowardly bullies, and mocked their own "being killed in retaliation."

If that's really the case, then Morion will probably think more highly of them.

But unfortunately.

The people here are nothing but a bunch of drunkards escaping reality.

Nowadays, pubs are filled with either drunken fools or company employees pretending to be sober.

Uninteresting and useless.

“You guys are so boring, get lost.” Morion waved his hand, and the fools around him scattered.

Hanabi watched with amusement as the other fools fled, noticing the bulges wriggling beneath their skin that they themselves hadn't even noticed.

“It will probably take them several days to find out,” Hanabi said.

“That’s hard to say,” Moraine shrugged. “My meme children will eat up their own sense of existence.”

"Will you kill them?" Hanabi asked curiously.

Her tone contained no fear, only pure curiosity.

“It’s just mockery, it’s not a capital offense.” Morion walked past the fireworks. “It will just make them more prone to nightmares and have a slightly worse memory.”

Fireworks nodded thoughtfully and followed Morion to sit down at the bar.

In the world of dreams, having nightmares is not a good thing.

"This is a small business. If you want a special drink, please prepare your credits. It costs 50,000 credits per glass, and the tip starts at 100,000 credits," the bartender said as he took out two glasses.

Wow, this is a rip-off.

"Your happiness is priceless. We may be a small business, but happiness is invaluable, isn't it?"

"What would you like, sir?" the bartender asked Morion with a smile.

Before Morion could speak, Hanabi's voice broke in.

Her tone remained lively, the bartender said.

"Come on, to welcome our new family, the first drink in the pub is on me."

"Give me the most expensive special cocktail!"

She patted her chest and said in a bold tone.

"Whatever he wants to drink, this playboy will pay for it."

"You're so rich?" Morion looked at Fireworks with a half-smile.

"Hehe." Hanabi grinned.

The bartender smiled too.

"Haha, just kidding. At the 'end of the world,' pleasure comes without a price; a funny joke can be exchanged for a glass of fine wine."

The people who surrounded Morion to mock him weren't all the fools in the tavern.

Even now, there are still some slightly more normal fools in the tavern.

For example, the young girl who is currently working as a bartender.

Watching Hanabi telling jokes to the bartender in exchange for drinks, and the bartender propping his head up with one hand while listening to the story, Moraine suddenly thought of something and smiled too.

"What are you laughing at?" Fireworks, who had just finished telling the story, turned around, looking at Morion's expression.

She sat on the chair with her feet dangling in the air and asked curiously.

“No, it’s nothing, I just thought of some fun things.” Morion picked up a wine glass from beside Fireworks.

It's really fun.

He had just gained some power when Elio placed a beautiful knight beside him.

Now, he guides another masked fool who still adheres to his own "aesthetics of pleasure" to his side, telling him what "pleasure" truly is, for fear that he will be corrupted by the third-rate fools in the tavern.

They must be so afraid he'll get lost.

"That's wonderful," the bartender said with a smile after hearing Hanabi's story. "You rarely hear stories like that in bars these days."

“The jokes in ‘The End of the World’ are getting more and more boring… Hey, that line is actually quite funny,” Hanabi said.

The masked fools of today are always drunk, because they're bored, so incredibly bored.

“In the past, thanks to the company’s technology, we lived a good life for a while. We could sit in a bar and see all the fun in the world. We laughed until we almost cried every day.”

"But as time goes on, even the funniest things become boring, and truly hilarious jokes are hard to find, so they start partying, drinking fine wine made from old jokes, hoping to find even more exciting jokes in it." Another voice came from not far away.

A person walked over and sat down next to Morion and Fireworks.

He had a head of flamboyant blue hair and wore a slightly tight-fitting top and trousers.

“Hey buddy,” Sambo extended his hand. “Let’s get acquainted. I’m poor old Sambo, a masked fool whose mask has been stolen.”