Chapter 19

Almost all concepts in the Tower have physical forms.

Whether it’s worms that feed on the text in books, whales flying in the sky, or the sun and moon trapped in one body, nothing would be strange to appear, is what I’m saying.

Time is also the same.

She lies down, covering her vision with a white cloth.

Under the thin cloth, her eyes were closed, as if sleeping.

Without even the common movement of rising and falling when breathing, she looked almost like a corpse.

I can see bandages wrapped around her right arm.

Rather than being worn due to an injury, it felt more like a mummy’s bandages to prevent decay.

The thorny vines settled in various places hung down like curtains covering a stage.

These long-hanging thorny vines were connected to her hair.

The thorny vines were binding her arms.

I can see the thorns digging into her skin. Yet it feels strange that not a single drop of blood flows.

The thorny vines looked both like a part of her body and like chains binding her.

She looks like a mannequin displayed in a show window, a puppet tied to a puppeteer’s strings.

Especially as only the center of the dark room is illuminated by a bright light.

She appears like a pitiful girl who has lost her freedom, but in reality, it’s the opposite.

It was rather the girl who was encroaching upon this space.

“What brings you here?”

With a cheerful music box sound, everything surrounding the area begins to operate in unison.

Like a figurine decorated on a music box, the girl moves in tune with the sound.

She sits up and asks that way.

That in itself was unnatural. It feels as if something non-human is imitating a human, causing a surge of discomfort.

“You already know.”

To my grumbling words, the girl burst into a small laugh.

“That’s true. But the simple act of speaking out loud and hearing those words with your ears has meaning.”

The sound is clearly being produced, but the girl’s mouth remains closed, not opening. It’s as if she’s speaking but not speaking.

The gap between auditory and visual information creates confusion. Disliking it, I frowned.

“Because it gets recorded that way. Things only gain value when they’re finally spoken aloud. You know that, don’t you?”

She asks, tilting her head slightly.

Words and attitude suggest that anything not recorded has no value.

The space itself was already explicitly revealing her thoughts.

A place that prints skill books, a massive printing house that records everything in the world.

A room with an amusement park-like atmosphere.

Following the cheerful, repetitive music box sound, dwarves move along predetermined tracks.

Wearing pointed hats, they also resembled fairies.

The dwarves, crafted from glass, all had different appearances, though they seemed similar.

The dwarves move busily, printing paper and binding them to make books.

Instead of conveyor belts like in factories, they use amusement rides for the manufacturing process.

Even as I’m explaining it to myself, I wonder if this is right, but this deranged space was actually like that.

Riding bumper cars, they discuss the concept of the book.

They have serious discussions while ramming each other with bumper cars, as if clashing ideas.

That’s how the book’s genre is determined.

Next, based on the decided genre, they revise the manuscript.

I can see dwarves riding a Ferris wheel.

They recharge their emotions while enjoying the outside scenery.

The higher they reach, the more moist their eyes become.

With emotions thus charged, they revise the manuscript.

Based on the revised manuscript, the design is now determined.

They decide on the visual elements of the book, not just the cover or illustrations, but the font, layout of the inner pages, and so on.

They design it for the concept of the book, of course, and for the reader to read easily.

This process takes place while riding a roller coaster.

Honestly, this was the part I understood the least.

What’s the relationship between design and roller coasters?

A streetlamp wearing a fedora approaches me. Imitating a gentleman, it wore a monocle on the part where the light comes on.

The gentleman streetlamp approached and began to explain.

From both sides of the streetlamp, thin thread-like arms protrude, holding a sketchbook.

Unable to speak, or so it seemed, it explained by writing on the sketchbook.

-We pursue a design where one can read even while riding a roller coaster. Sometimes one needs to read a skill book urgently during combat. We’re demonstrating it.

‘Time’ smiles at me as I listen to the explanation.

An attitude as if she knows everything.

I didn’t like that appearance, but I continued listening to the explanation. Honestly, I was curious.

-Illustrations or covers hastily produced while riding roller coasters turn out unexpectedly high quality, so we use them as is.

When reading skill books, the illustrations inside often had a rough feel, and today, that mystery seems to have been solved.

The streetlamp, after asking if I had any more questions, returned to its place.

Back in its place, it again directs the dwarves in their work.

Books with completed designs go through printing and binding.

Both of these processes are done on a carousel.

Sitting on the spinning carousel, they diligently produce books.

They bind the books using thread. The thread imbued with magical power emits a bright light.

The thread, swaying up and down, creates a peculiar spectacle.

Books made that way are neatly stacked in one place.

This is how skill books are created and distributed throughout the Tower.

While some dwarves diligently print books, others sit in high seats looking down at them.

Those dwarves all wear triangular glasses that look stern, and they read the printed books to rate them.

Then one dwarf throws a book and angrily says something.

That book is judged to be waste material that couldn’t be rated and is separated.

So this is the space set up in the basement of my used bookstore.

It looks larger than the space I provided.

Hmm, it might even be larger than my used bookstore.

The girl right in front of me is the one who makes such nonsensical things possible.

If I were asked to name the being closest to god in the Tower, I would unhesitatingly choose the girl in front of me.

She was the most influential figure in the Tower.

The girl, with an enigmatic smile, touched the cloth covering her eyes.

“Aren’t you curious? Why I cover my eyes.”

“I already know.”

“Is that so? Still, listen once more.”

This crazy…

It’s impossible not to swear.

I don’t understand why she’s asking if she’s going to be like this.

As if enjoying my reaction, her smile deepens.

“The moment I see the world with my eyes, the observed world is recorded as is.”

The world observed by ‘Time’ is recorded and stored as is.

In terms of a game, it’s like a save point.

You can return to the save point, but you can’t go back beyond that.

“So I don’t open my eyes unless it’s important.”

The important events she’s talking about would include the day a god was born, the day a god died, and the day the world ends.

“To be honest, I thought this world would end like this. Ah, I can’t tell you how disappointed I was, thinking it was just another clichéd ending.”

The corners of her mouth split to a grotesque degree.

With a creepy smile on her lips, she continued speaking as if in ecstasy.

“But, but! Ah, you appeared.”

With her hands clasped together, her blushing face looked like a girl of that age.

However, what was inside was a snake that had lived for an unimaginably long time.

“I didn’t think you would turn back time.”

The girl rises.

In sync with her, the woody vines move to assist her.

Puppeteer and puppet.

Who is controlling whom?

I come to doubt that relationship.

The current appearance made it seem as if the puppet was controlling the puppeteer.

Joints rotate in different directions.

The girl’s laughter, seemingly excited, fills the room.

With her joints grotesquely bent, the girl approaches me.

With her waist half-turned, she floats towards me.

“That’s because you’re the first person to have kept the wish token I gave for so long without using it.”

Holding and lifting my chin, she continued.

“Or not? Ah, maybe you weren’t the first. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because they all met bad endings, not even able to use the wish token properly.”

Her speech gets faster and faster.

“Because they couldn’t present proper value. Because they couldn’t properly measure the weight of the value they could offer and the goal they wanted.”

She speaks with a voice full of expectation.

“So, will you be different? Can you fulfill my expectations?”

The girl, expecting a deal, looked more like an embodiment of the devil than of time.

“I don’t need chess pieces that only follow predetermined tracks.”

She says, pulling on the long-extended thorny vines.

“Sometimes I want to see a crazy horse that runs off the board.”

The vines, pulled taut like rubber bands, catch my eye.

“Time’s elasticity? What does that matter? Just as rubber bands can be cut, the causality of time can be cut as well.”

Bang! With a loud sound, she goes back again.

As if there’s a power outage, the light goes out for a moment and then comes back on.

The girl sits calmly in her original place, as if nothing had happened.

Instead of a voice full of excitement, she asks with a calm voice.

“Well then, shall we start the deal?”