Half face_1.Miff

A Story by Nabison

Three man love one woman who created from lab. AI creatures have already alived around us in secret. they have provide sevant leadership since world war2. Now Italian Marpia group is trying to......

_Preview

Three man love one woman who created from lab. AI creatures have already alived around us in secret. they have provide sevant leadership since world war2. Now Italian Marpia group is trying to collet those AI women for blockchain. Miff ex-lover had not known who is Benica actually. Every steps are going unpredictable situation......

_Introduce

I am Korean. My Korean name is Kiyoun Kim. Absolutly South Korean. Korea have many obstacles to re-united with North Korea. Specially in literature. S.Korea literture is remote controlled by 1930's writers now. I am new and young writer, but I will never publish my book, because during 20 years my all storied copied by Public broadcasting. Korean Publish system has order and rank, so new creators (like me) don't have any opportunity to publish without obey to old system following North Korea goverment. I will translate my writing with google translation for saving time. I'm also looking forward to find someone can traslate properly. thanks.

Half Face

Nabison

1. Miff

The park benches in New York were filled with fist-sized sparrows. Looking at that plump body, Miep suddenly imagined herself in a primitive posture, luring the small things together, pulling out their fur, roasting them side by side, and eating them. The same thing happened when I saw women in red or blue leggings running around the park. Seeing their busty buttocks sticking out in the sunlight and their deep cleavage suffocatingly sandwiched between moist flesh, MIF was everything. I thought this was excessively wasteful. Mif sighed as he remembered that the last time he had slept with a woman had been three years ago. His sudden sigh startled a sparrow that was picking up bread crumbs nearby. I couldn't understand what on earth he was doing. No matter what they did, the women would startle Miep and leave or fly away. Miep thought again about whether there was an unexpected smell coming from her body or whether her face was more ugly than she thought, and then she shook her head. He decided not to think about this anymore... but he still couldn't take his eyes off the young, fresh virgins running around him like various types of roe deer. In Mif's eyes, they seemed to come from a completely different world. The young women were only young and had not given birth to children, and in fact, it was unknown whether many of them were in relationships. After finishing his short sunbathing, Miep went into his small room of 5 pyeong, where a familiar smell hugged him as always, and laid down his body. He is studying a metal casting course at a nearby technical college and was looking for a job after this semester. His room was filled with all kinds of metal objects and there was no space to step inside. From small missing earrings picked up here and there, to pieces of used rebar from a construction site or rusty pots with the handles falling off. His room was full of clothes and things that smelled like iron. On the weekends or whenever she had time, Miep would try to connect the metal she had picked up to create a shape or something useful. At university, he completed a course that mainly involved making detailed parts or simple tools for machines. Indeed, deep down, he wanted to strongly overwhelm and fascinate the viewer with that hard, fearsome, uncompromising piece of iron. He was instinctively drawn to metal for its physical properties, and he sought to fill that very part of his masculinity that he felt he was chronically lacking. He posted pictures of red lava flowing all over the room, and even carefully drew pictures of molten metal just flowing out of a furnace or red-hot blacksmith's iron chopsticks and hung them on every door. He believed that a man must be ready to experience hardship and adversity at any time, and that after going through that difficult process, he becomes useful to the world. To him, iron was the same as his identity and self-respect that he had to live with as a man, and it was also his own fantasy that he could not say to anyone. Miep thought that she was like an unfinished piece of red iron that had not yet been cast, and even though she did not say this to those around her, for some reason, people around her were overly serious about her, or she always remained rigid and alone. He used to say, “I don’t know why it’s so serious.” Especially on days when Mif lifted his large shoulders and took a sigh with a young woman of his age by his side, the harsh sound made him shiver, as if a huge bellows was shaking the wind. They didn't even talk about MIF and said it was 'burdensome'. Miep also had a surprisingly delicate side, and apart from his bandit-like appearance, he often visited art galleries and museums and enjoyed looking at his swords. Naturally, Miff was on his way to welcome the iron pieces of history who had finally survived through all the arduous processes. Miep also enjoyed looking at the plowshares and sickles that were rusty from head to toe, barely maintaining their shape. When Mif was looking at those things, he felt strangely at ease and peaceful, and no matter what music he listened to, he could not feel more calm and comfortable. Miep looked at the world's swords over and over again, crossing over time and historical perspectives. His tour ended with the sharp and unbendable lightness of the Japanese sword, the huge needle-like swords that medieval knights carried only for stabbing, and finally the stone sword that early humans in prehistoric times were said to have wielded. Miep used to spend an entire weekend looking at all kinds of knives, iron, and stones for hours, and even after his use was over, he admired and marveled at all the objects that were still placed in front of people as their value and memories. Among them, the exhibit he loved the most was the medieval sword No. 343, made in the 1400s. Miep used to stand in front of this sword for a very long time, and its overall appearance was like that of a swordfish, the balance of the fresh silver blade as if it had just been pulled from the deep sea, the handle as if the head had been raised upright, and it was thick and sharp. Looking at the missing body and the blade finished with softly shining silver and copper, he felt like he had to go back about 600 years ago to find the lost sword and climb on a horse. Mif used to think that times had changed too much for her to live in this world, and this thought grew even more so during the time she spent standing in front of the sword, wondering why this era seemed so calm and gentle, but then became so violent and cruel. I couldn't help but chew it. Miep would often feel an incredible power suddenly flaring up in her arms and legs, and whenever that happened, Miep would quietly clench and open her fist several times, or stand on one leg and fold and unfold it several times. I used to ventilate the surroundings. To anyone, it may have looked like someone was just immersed in the exhibition, standing there for a while, and then feeling bored and crampy in their hands and feet, so they relaxed their body with some vague exercise. He was constantly releasing his muscles, which were infinitely tense, like a dog on the verge of a rampage, and the ferocity of his heart, which was pushing forward as if it were going to explode. Miep was large and looked dull from a distance, as if his head was stuck on his shoulder and back and his legs were stuck, but in fact, depending on how he dressed up, he had enough appearance to be a general or a bandit of any era. However, by this era, his appearance had become very unpopular, and the ideal male body type that people preferred was a tall, attractive face with a properly proportioned slim body. Not only was it impossible to estimate the immense masculine power that radiated from them, but he only had sophistication and courtesy that had to be refined over and over again in the city, and all kinds of false smiles and boastful boasting like feathers. Often, when Miep was standing in front of his sword, he would imagine the voluptuous buttocks of women swaying colorfully in the park, and he would quickly run after them and pounce on them. At the moment when she was about to press down on her resistance and confirm the presence of her man, Miep bit down on her teeth. That's because Miff's woman was crying every time. Every time Miep was reminded of her crying face, her entire body lost strength and she suffered from visions of the world being filled with darkness. Around him, gigantic hollow metal knights stood in a majestic and imposing row, clad in shining silver armor from head to toe. Just one or two pieces of armor would be intimidating, so the museum lined up a total of 15 pieces of armor with spears in 5 rows horizontally and 3 rows vertically. Miep closed his eyes tightly as he looked at a group of cold, heavy men who seemed to be marching towards a hill to kill at any moment. What a simple and efficient era it was. Those that survive are respected. Anything that will not be respected is a quick and easy death. In Miep's room, in front of the main door leading to the kitchen, there was a knife that he had forged himself. Among the metal parts collected from various places, only the metals with high carbon concentration were sorted out and melted down throughout the day. Miep participated in the mold making process, and four men from Minnesota who restored medieval swords for Miep traveled all the way to New York. Among them, Mest, who has been restoring medieval swords for about 40 years, prepared a boar skin especially for Miep, and Mist was impressed by Miep's skill in tearing the skin with his teeth and the hilt of the new sword that had just been born. He said he felt like he was watching a scene from a movie. Mest invited Miep, who had metal casting skills, to come with him to Minnesota and start a new life, but Miep had no choice but to simply decline. Miep was having a dream, a tantrum, and it didn't seem like her anger would be relieved just by going to Minnesota to work on the bellows and iron, and the thought of never being able to come back to see these beautiful surviving swords was already suffocating her. come. Miff was satisfied with his life near New York, where he could walk to museums and art galleries in about ten minutes whenever he wanted. In addition, this place, which is constantly overflowing with new young women running around, was depicted by Mif as a territory of infinite possibilities that indirectly provided him with endless opportunities, even if it was just a pie in the sky. Miep didn't want to leave this place. Even though it was a city where a handful of skinny, slovenly people slicked themselves up with all kinds of expensive pieces of fabric to show off, Miff still liked this place. However, Mif was just curious. His infinite and vague obsession and curiosity about whether there was room for men like him to be accepted here kept him until the end. He thought about hiding everything about himself, but he knew right away that it would be as difficult and unnatural as rolling up his huge body into a small, wrinkle-free piece of cloth worth a million won.

Mif did not want to be like some unknown technician from the suburbs who just silently carries out the given task. Miff had sincerity and technical skills, but more than anything, he had a vague envy and confidence in high and beautiful things.

Miff wanted to test the material values of the world he understood. How many restrictions and misunderstandings does he himself face as a body? And yet, despite being alive, speaking, resisting or rejecting things, his life was gradually becoming isolated and forgotten. It's already been three years since I felt like I was being buried alive.

Miff wanted to know. What secrets and charms do the surviving things from the past have? What makes them so prized and expensive?

How do all the beautiful and fragile things around him survive? How do the relationships of power they bring in function with each other? In the meantime, could it be that the broken, cracked, and faded things contained some kind of invisible story that prevented them from being completely eliminated and forgotten?

How on earth did the ancient stones and vessels, which were ugly, rough and terrible just to look at them, and the countless lumps of dirt that had been thrown away, buried and taken out, gain eternity?

Miff had that kind of side. Mif had no doubt that he was so lonely right now because people didn't know him completely, couldn't know everything, and didn't have the courage to find out everything. Miff's vague and groundless confidence was the power that allowed Miff to live, and it was Miff himself.

Miff was aflame with his own youth and strength now flowing through his limbs, and with all the questions that consumed his brain.

Miff was filled with confidence that she could run outside right now, subdue a woman who was running wild, and receive unbearable moans of pleasure from her mouth. But not yet. Miep decided to prepare a little more for that day.

It's already been three years since I prepared. Miep also knew that there wasn't much time left. However, because Miff's potential was enormous, Miff did not want to let things go wrong so easily.

Miff had very little money saved up so far. And there was still very little time left. Mif knew very well that he would have to comply when the time came. When that day came, Miep was planning to live quietly and disappear without being revealed as a silent craftsman in some outskirts.

This year, which might be his last chance to struggle inside himself, he decided to take a look at all the surviving things from history. On the day of finding out their secrets, Miep would definitely be able to create her own world and enter it.

He was filled with anticipation, knowing that nothing had yet been decided, but with the expectation that everything would soon be revealed in earnest. His steps were light. His heavy body caught the rhythm.