For paying taxes to the "Tyrant," Bologue knew this story.
"Isn't it just about throwing in some coins?" Bologue wondered, "Why specifically use this?"
It was clear that this coin was extraordinary, as if specially made for paying taxes to the "Tyrant."
"The 'value' you invest is different, and the 'Tyrant's' protection varies," Vika explained, "He doesn't need ordinary wealth, but something of greater 'value.'
Bologue's heartstrings were touched; Vika's words seemed to awaken something, giving Bologue an inexplicable sense of familiarity, yet he couldn't quite describe what that feeling was.
"Just this commemorative coin?" Bologue mocked.
"Don't underestimate this coin; it's called the Mammon Coin," Vika turned the coin over, "It's said the name comes from this person, named Mammon."
The back of the coin was printed with a mountain of gold coins, and a person greedily embraced these coins, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't gather all the wealth into his arms, like the sand slipping away from clenched fists.
"This Mammon Coin is part of the legend, and to this day no one knows how this currency became circulated within the wanderer's crossroad. People searched various mints in Opus but found no trace of it, as if it just appeared out of thin air.
Some say it's minted by the 'Tyrant,' and the circulation of the Mammon Coin signifies that the 'Tyrant' is still alive, he's real, and this currency always maintains a stable quantity in the market, with each method of obtaining it being quite peculiar."
"How do you acquire it?"
Bologue's interest was piqued by Vika; clearly, within the wanderer's crossroad, there is a different version of the legend of the "Tyrant."
After coming into contact with the Extraordinary World, Bologue paid close attention to so-called "urban legends," perhaps they were all real, just existing in the Extraordinary World, beyond the reach of ordinary people.
"It's simple, create 'value' for the wanderer's crossroad, and mysteriously you'll receive Mammon Coins, maybe you'll find one on the roadside, or perhaps open your mailbox to discover an unsigned letter with a Mammon Coin inside."
Vika shrugged and explained.
"If the Weng Coin represents regular equivalents, then the Mammon Coin is the equivalent for the wanderer's crossroad. The more Mammon Coins you hold, the greater your contribution to the wanderer's crossroad. The more Mammon Coins you throw into the Great Rift, the more favor you receive from the 'Tyrant.'"
"This sounds more like some kind of ghostly faith."
Saying this, Bologue nonetheless became interested in all of it; considering the story he knew, it seemed that those who could linger long in the wanderer's crossroad were, to some extent, people who produced value for it.
Void faith was given form like a sect that transformed into a commercial company: the more money you earn, the more devout you are.
"There's no choice, living in this ghostly place; if just tossing 'valueless' commemorative coins can ease one's mind, I imagine many would be willing to do so."
Vika rubbed the Mammon Coin; outside it had no value, but within the wanderer's crossroad, it was an extraordinary equivalent.
"Alright, here you go, this is what I owed Lebius, let's consider it repaid."
Vika handed the Mammon Coin to Bologue, then spread his hand and said.
"Now, give it back to me."
Bologue looked at the Mammon Coin in his hand, then at Vika, and couldn't help but laugh.
"What is this? Just going through the motions?"
"It's the observance of 'value' and 'value,'" Vika was unexpectedly rigid on this point.
"You look like followers of the 'Tyrant,' just that the form of your sect is quite odd," Bologue said as he returned the Mammon Coin, completing the transaction with Vika.
"Say what you like, I've also said this to Lebius, unfortunately, he, like you, you outsiders, won't understand here."
Vika had anticipated Bologue's reaction; he pulled out a small box from under the bar, opened it, and it was filled with Mammon Coins. Vika added the new Mammon Coin to it, increasing his accumulation.
With Vika's credentials in the "Web," plus his "devotion," if the "Tyrant" truly existed, with Vika's accumulation, he might as well be a Cardinal.
"What is that?"
Bologue noticed the coins in the box; aside from having "Mammon" consistently on their backs, some coins had different designs on their fronts.
"These designs are different; are there denominations of Mammon Coins as well?" Bologue asked.
"The designs on Mammon Coins all have meanings; to put it simply, they represent mysterious urban legends."
Vika thought for a moment and explained to Bologue, while taking out several representative Mammon Coins and placing them in front of Bologue.
"It's another compelling evidence of the 'Tyrant's' real existence; he's always watching us, and through this crafted different coins, and these designs represent those events and people noticed by the 'Tyrant.'
Some urban legends we speak of can't be proven."
Bologue examined the coins and identified their designs.
"The House under the Sun" "Amusement Park" "Wolf Pack" "Crown" etc...
"This 'Tyrant' is truly quite leisurely," Bologue thought of something, curiously asking, "If I catch his attention, will there also be, representing me, Mammon Coins?"
Vika glanced at the Mammon Coin with the "Wolf Pack" and said.
"Of course."
"Oh?"
Bologue's interest was completely piqued, representing his Mammon Coin circulating between the wavering crossroads, like a legend gradually on the rise.
For someone slightly narcissistic like him, this was quite an enticing allure.
"Sounds not bad."
Indeed, it wasn't bad, but Bologue didn't have time to waste on these things anymore. He had an undying body with a seemingly endless life. He had plenty of time to waste on all this trivial stuff, but first was his grand vendetta.
"So, back to Norm's clinic, our deal is done, right? Can you take me to meet him?" Bologue asked.
"I still have business."
Vika gestured to the crowded dance floor, this place trapped in eternal revelry as if never sleeping day or night.
Bologue's gaze turned slightly cold. Just as he was about to say something, whether soft or hard, Vika spoke again.
"Nelli! Take this gentleman where he wants to go."
Vika waved his hand, signaling to the waiter named "Nelli."
Seeing this, Bologue swallowed back the words he had prepared and glanced at Vika a few more times, softly speaking.
"How did you know Lebius?"
"Just like you and me now, back then he was lost here, held a knife to my neck, and made me guide him."
Vika, wiping a glass, unexpectedly frank as he recalled the terrible past, a smile lingered on his lips.
"Your so-called legends... they're actually real, aren't they?" Bologue said once more.
Since Vika said he could also appear on a Mammon Coin, Bologue noticed it. It sounded terrifying, yet exhilarating.
Souls, Devils, Daimons, Debtors... This brief time after being released made Bologue fully aware of one thing, those called legends often have real existence.
"Actually... you've already met someone who exists only in legend."
Vika spoke words that Bologue couldn't understand.
Bologue paused for a few seconds, without saying much more, he turned his head preparing to follow Nelli away, a flash of the Mammon Coin appearing before him.
"Becoming a legend? Sounds not bad."
Bologue turned his head, tossing words towards Vika.
"Forgot to introduce myself, Bologue Lazarus. I think we'll meet again."
After saying this, Bologue turned to follow Nelli away.
Watching Bologue's departing back, Vika placed the cleaned glass to the side, picking up the Mammon Coin of the "wolf pack," as if recalling something, his gaze deep and distant.
...
Leaving the "Web", Bologue, led by Nelli, walked for a while, sensing that the wavering crossroads were far from simple on the surface. Naturally, there were still too many unknowns in this world, even the secrets within the Order Bureau Bologue hadn't fully investigated, not to mention the outside world.
At the edge of the wavering crossroads, Bologue bid farewell to Nelli, thanking him for the guidance. Only then could Bologue find his target in this labyrinthine city.
Under his direction, Bologue advanced along the winding corridors, this journey not an easy one, the planks underfoot lined with gaps through which the unending rift below could be seen. With each light step, the entire corridor swayed slightly, dust falling.
During this progression, Bologue saw his destination, Norm's clinic.
This building rose from the extended platform, windowless and with only an iron door, its outer wall tattered, pieced together by countless sheets of iron.
Knocking on the door, after a few seconds of waiting, Bologue pushed open the iron door. Inside, it was dim, only a few weak beams of white light from the counter barely illuminating a corner of the room.
From the unlit darkness came breathing sounds. Vaguely, the outlines of humanoid figures could be seen, but everyone's faces were cloaked in shadows—they couldn't see Bologue clearly, nor could Bologue see them.
In front of the counter, a frail figure noticed Bologue's arrival, a somewhat sickly guy, bearing a pallor and a greasy feel like a rat surviving in the sewers.
"Oh, a new face," the person made a strange, twisted sound from his throat, like a cold sly laugh, "What do you need?"
"I'm looking for someone," Bologue approached the counter, "Norm Ward."
He looked at the rat-like guy in front of him, then looked around the dark surroundings.
"Is he here?"
The voice resounded in a chaotic boom, like the trembling cold wind skimming over a window, like a ghost pounding on a door, creaking eerily.