Chapter 770: Singer, Smile, Makeup Artist

Editor: Henyee Translations

“Hey, Singer, why did the color fade when you went to watch a concert?”

Perched atop a large rock by the shoreline was a man sporting a black cap that obscured much of his visage. Beside him rested a computer displaying a satellite map of the capital, with several red dots indicating locations of interest.

A significant factor in Singer’s successful evasion of the capital’s authorities was his remote guidance, courtesy of the man on the rock: Smile, the fifth elder of Utopia’s hackers, and a prominent figure on the dark web.

Grinning mischievously, Smile fixed his gaze on Singer, whose fair complexion glistened in the moonlight. “It seems your camouflage wasn’t as foolproof as you thought,” he taunted.

Singer trudged ashore, soaked from his aquatic escape, grumbling, “Blame that incompetent makeup artist. His color-changing paint couldn’t withstand prolonged water exposure, turning white halfway through.”

Scratching his head, Smile queried, “So, what’s the point of using it then? Isn’t it just fancy black paint? Or does it somehow appear more realistic?”

Suddenly, a chilling voice pierced the darkness, its source obscured by shadows. “Singer, who dares claim I’ve failed?”

Startled, Singer whipped around, his gaze locking onto a figure cloaked in black, its skull adorned with eerie phosphorescent flames.

The cloak draped around the mysterious figure almost seemed to dissolve into the night, blending seamlessly with the surrounding shadows cast by the trees.

Singer’s initial shock morphed into sheer terror, his expression contorted in horror. “Damn it! What in the world is that thing? Get out of here!”

Meanwhile, Smile, perched on the rock, erupted into uncontrollable laughter. Slapping his knee, he chuckled hysterically until tears streamed down his face. “Hahaha…”

As Singer gradually regained his composure, he fixed a long, scrutinizing gaze on the eerie skull. “Makeup Artist?”

From within the depths of the cloak emerged the Makeup Artist, brandishing a dusty mirror. After a moment’s self-assessment, he adopted a more mature tone. “And do you still have the audacity to claim I’ve failed?”

Singer fell silent, his frustration evident. “You’re out of your mind!”

The Makeup Artist exchanged the mirror for one adorned with a skeletal motif, speaking in a sweet, childlike voice, “But why, brother? How could you say such hurtful things about me?”

Singer remained speechless, thoroughly exasperated.

Amidst the absurdity, Smile’s laughter only intensified, watching Singer’s icy glare. Unable to contain himself any longer, he draped an arm around the Makeup Artist’s shoulder, gasping for breath. “Shishi, keep this up, and Singer might just serenade you.”

The thought of Singer singing was, quite literally, deadly.

The Makeup Artist disdainfully shoved Smile aside, his skeletal visage adopting a chilly demeanor. His voice took on a tone reminiscent of someone picking at their feet. “Disappear. I am the Makeup Artist. Spare me your repulsive wordplay.”

Smile had a penchant for wordplay, often twisting names and phrases to his liking. Singer had endured his antics in the past, being subjected to monikers like “Sing Song” or “Sing Star” until he coerced Smile into using his actual name through psychological manipulation.

However, others weren’t as fortunate, enduring Smile’s antics without respite.

Even though he recognized the act as fake, Singer couldn’t help but feel repulsed. “Makeup Artist, stop playing with this spectral nonsense. Clean yourself up.”

He promptly utilized hypnosis on the Makeup Artist, compelling him to rush to the river and douse himself with water in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the ghastly makeup.

But to Singer’s dismay, the Makeup Artist’s voice remained unchanged, expletives intermingled with pleas. “Damn it, Singer, lift the hypnosis! This stuff is waterproof! I can’t wash it off!”

The Makeup Artist implored, “Singer, please!”

Singer settled onto the rock with an air of elegance, shuddering at the Makeup Artist’s desperate pleas. With an icy glare, he retorted, “Silence.”

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