Ch.100Burning Narrative Hierarchy

I felt a sense of déjà vu as I opened the beer can.

This was my first day in the apartment I’d moved into with my brother’s help, after bouncing between one-room studios.

Old residential complexes all follow the same pattern. First, people leave, then businesses close down. Then churches start moving in one by one.

Before you know it, dozens of neon crosses light up every night. No need for a cemetery anymore.

Dozens.

Cemetery.

Time rewinds.

My recent dreams have been strange.

It started after I became a Librarian at the Wanderer’s Library.

Once I could see the invisible things, entirely new information mixed in my head, and sometimes stories that might be truth or fiction appeared and disappeared repeatedly.

A new time and an unfamiliar worldline. But I still retain my authority as a Librarian.

If it’s a space where I can be conscious and act, it will always be by my side.

‘Enough.’

Unlike usual, the dream doesn’t end.

I can feel my body and mind weakening.

Using my authority comes with backlash.

My body, having endured multiple backlashes, felt like it could crumble to dust at any moment.

Now I have no choice but to follow the flow.

Again, from the beginning.

I lift my head and look around at the world enveloping me,

Chewing on past memories that haven’t been completely erased.

‘I am not a genius.’

I used to harbor bitterness toward this sentence.

Though my talent was either non-existent or mediocre, I couldn’t give up.

Little by little, step by step, I moved forward and pulled myself to a better place.

I lost things too.

My wrists often ached, and I couldn’t even sit properly in a chair.

A broken body. But my heart was full.

My brother stands before me, smiling.

“How fortunate that you’ve made it big now. If I’d known this would happen, I would have told you not to quit drawing.”

The surroundings had changed. Not a shabby apartment, but a living room with wide windows and sunlight streaming in.

In the corner next to the air conditioner, a life-sized standee of a character I drew stands proudly.

“My friend’s son watches your work too. He asked me to get Lim Dabin’s autograph.”

I stared at my brother in front of me with a bewildered face.

This is the story of a worldline where I succeeded as a webtoon artist.

That’s not what surprised me.

No matter how unlikely a story might be, a worldline exists where it’s realized. It means someone imagined it.

My brother, who had been grinning, changes his expression.

Looking around with a perfectly blank face, he mutters briefly.

“This won’t work.”

My brother took a gun from his pocket and pointed it at his temple.

“Brother.”

“…”

“What are you?”

The following boom made the ceiling ring.

The bullet fulfilled its purpose, but the next event doesn’t happen.

The story itself was collapsing.

“Of course I’m your brother. But you were originally male, huh?”

“What?”

“I was confused for a moment about why I needed to change it. This form suits you better though. I like it.”

“What the hell…”

My brother taps the temple where the bullet passed through.

His finger moves in and out of the hole where not a drop of blood comes out.

The floor collapses, revealing the concrete underneath.

The walls and ceiling also turn black and disappear.

“What is this…”

I couldn’t say anything more.

My brother, with a hole in his head, sits on the floor twitching.

[Foundation Designation: Programming Pill]

– You can input the pill’s function.

– Side effects are determined according to the function. The more powerful the drug’s function, the greater the side effects.

– Currently entered function:

…

Whether it was specially crafted or not, there were no noticeable side effects.

I didn’t need to read the original drug effect to know what it was.

I could see it right in front of me.

My brother, now with a much higher voice, opens his mouth to speak.

“So you can see this.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well done.”

The surrounding objects transform into information and then disappear.

Not a physical collapse, but a collapse at the information level.

From the table, the word “table.”

From the clock, the word “clock.”

The letters are extracted and slowly begin to disintegrate.

T A B L E

G L A S S fragment

C O N C R E T E piece

Everything was turning black and disappearing.

But this scene is visible only to the Librarian. To others, it’s just a disaster without any reason.

They must watch the end of the world without knowing why.

Looking at the navy-bruised sky outside the window, I asked.

“Did you do this, brother?”

“Do what? The end of the world? Or suddenly…”

“You know.”

Suddenly, the building tilted sharply.

“No.”

A strange woman answered.

“You know too.”

A moment later, the window shattered and her ■■■■ fell below the balcony.

■■■Everything■■■■■■■

■■■■E V E R Y T H I N G■■■■

■■■■■■■■T H I N G■

■

■

■

Everything disappeared.

[Worldline ■■■■■: Fragment viewing complete.]

I was back in the black background.

The world of unconsciousness.

Far beyond the black waves lifting my body floats a single star symbolizing reality.

My physical body has collapsed unconscious, and when I reach that star, I will open my eyes.

I slowly gauged the distance. The speed of the waves and the dimness of the starlight too.

There was plenty of time to mull over my thoughts.

One. My brother is somehow related to the Foundation.

Two. My brother used some method to reverse my gender.

Three. Though it’s just circumstantial speculation, the purpose of all these actions is to prevent the end of the world.

That is, the Foundation and I share the same goal. At least my brother and I share the same goal.

I never imagined my brother was such a key person.

I couldn’t recall at all.

In my memory, my brother was such an ordinary person.

Someone who got an ordinary job, had an ordinary marriage, and raised children ordinarily.

But besides that, I realize I know surprisingly little about him.

Come to think of it, that’s true.

With our large age gap, we didn’t have many opportunities to share our interests.

Even if he had openly worked for the Foundation, I might not have known. Of course, if that were true, he would have hidden it thoroughly.

…I’ve noted down the important things separately.

Now it’s time to address content from a broader perspective.

Starting with the “deletion of the worldline” I just witnessed.

It’s a bit bitter to say, but my success as a webtoon artist was impossible.

I’m not talking about a lack of talent.

Luck, effort, surrounding circumstances, the latest trends in the webtoon industry—none of these would have made any difference either.

The decisive factor exists on a much higher dimension.

Seven.

The end just now was also its doing.

It is an anomalous entity of multiversal scale and the greatest threat facing the Wanderer’s Library where I serve as a Librarian.

Seven’s main characteristic is to devour a narrative layer and return it to nothingness.

My goal naturally becomes stopping it.

Though I’m in my unconscious, my smartphone is still in my pocket.

I turned on the smartphone and made a call.

“Hey,”

“Whaaat?”

Before I could even start speaking, a voice filled with shock overwhelms me.

The identity of the person is so unexpected that I can’t help but laugh despite the serious situation.

“I didn’t know you could make sounds like that.”

The one who answered the phone is an AI.

Usually, it shows almost no expression and speaks in a monotone voice.

But this time, it’s properly flustered, even stumbling over words.

“N-no. Dabin. How.”

“Why. I called because I had a phone.”

“Wait. Let me tell the others first.”

This was the reaction I expected.

Even the AI’s response that came shortly after was entirely predictable.

“Dabin. Are you still there?”

“Yeah.”

“I tried to tell the others, but I couldn’t. My memory suddenly disappeared completely, and I couldn’t speak.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

The information here cannot be conveyed to others.

Right now, only the AI can communicate with me.

“But why can only I receive your call?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“No.”

I took the phone away from my ear for a moment to clear my throat.

“Say ‘Dabin maman’ right now.”

“What?”

After a moment of confusion, the AI follows my command.

“Dabin… maman…?”

“Now you understand, right?”

The body the AI is using wasn’t created by my power alone.

I had to borrow the [Librarian Management Tool], a program that helps manage the library.

This means that a program that follows my commands is now fused with its body.

Not only can I forcibly give commands, but I can also get help with library management and information retrieval.

An integrated system that helps manage and search the library’s collection easily.

Of course, it’s also possible to contact others through this system.

“It’s the system.”

“That’s right.”

It’s fortunate to have you at least, but the others must be very worried.

With a feeling of regret, I dipped my hand below the surface of the water.

Splash. White foam rises over the black waves.

After being lost in thought for a moment, I asked the AI.

“What are the others doing?”

“Right now, they’re moving in the elevator. They’re trying to find the floor to treat you, Dabin.”

“What?”

For a moment, I felt my heart sink.

“The new person. Did they meet people from the Foundation?!”

“Yes, they did.”

“…”

“You always mention important things late.”

“I’m sorry.”

I really thought everything was ruined.

According to the future I’ve confirmed, we have no choice but to meet helpers from the Foundation.

Even knowing this, I was surprised just in case.

“Then what about Serim? Is she worried?”

“Yes. Everyone is extremely worried that you might die.”

“I won’t die.”

“We’ll try our best.”

“No. The story is set that way.”

This too is the flow of fate.

A single thread that is tough and strong, never breaking and enduring.

“So you can rest assured. At least you can.”

“Okay.”

“If you see the others worrying too much, even if you can’t tell them about me, at least try to reassure them.”

“Yes. I’ll try.”

It’s such a quiet one that I didn’t really expect much when I said it.

But the solemn voice that answers is somehow endearing.

“Then, Yebin.”

“What? Who?”

“Yebin. It’s your name. How is it?”

I’m not particularly good at naming, and it’s just something my mom told me.

Lim Yebin. She said it would have been my name if I had been a girl.

I was worried if you’d like it, but through the phone, I can hear your breath of excitement.

“…I love it. So much.”

If I had known you’d like it this much, I would have given it to you sooner.

I even feel somewhat sorry.

“Then help me organize my thoughts for a bit.”

“How can I help?”

I smiled and adjusted my grip on the phone.

“Just listen to what I explain.”

From narrative layers to Seven, and finally to the one story that survived.

It’s too vast an amount to organize alone.

It’s easier to bring someone to listen and explain it verbally.

First, the story about narrative layers.

“Yebin. Do you know about the goddesses of fate?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t just be happy because I called your name.”

Hitting the mark, she laughs shyly.

Yebin corrects her voice and answers.

“The three goddesses of fate. They appear in Greek mythology.”

“Right. What do these gods do?”

“They spin thread to weave cloth.”

The three goddesses of fate are always said to sit before a loom, weaving fabric.

The fabric they create becomes fate.

Whether the creators of the myth knew about narrative layers is something we cannot know for certain.

“Narrative layers are similar.”

A narrative layer is a single fabric.

Within it, countless stories are intertwined in a pattern like a dense net.

“If the narrative layer is cloth, then the stories act as threads.”

Events that actually happened. Unrealized possibilities.

All of these are “stories” on the narrative layer.

A cloth of fate woven with all realizable narratives.

The cloth is thinner and finer than one might think, easily torn by small variables, but pieces never completely break off and fall away.

The higher the possibility, the more likely an event is to occur, the thicker and stronger the thread.

Above all, events that have already occurred never break.

Even if all other possibilities are eliminated, a few threads survive without breaking, firmly supporting the cloth.

“But what if we bring fire to it?”

“It will all burn up. No matter how strong it is.”

“Exactly. That’s why the entity ‘Seven’ is so deadly.”

‘Seven’ is like a fire that burns the narrative layer.

No matter how strong the thread, it burns away, leaving only ashes that contain no information.

“Seven.”

Yebin repeats quietly.

“I think I’ve heard about it before.”

“When you were in the Foundation server?”

“Yes.”

“What did it say about it then?”

“It said it was a potential threat. So there was no need to deal with it right away, just to keep an eye on it.”

“It’s different now.”

The fire has spread to the narrative layer where we are.

Other worldlines. All stories and possibilities have all turned to ashes.

The one thread that remains now is the single story named [Survival Log of the Anomalous Apartment].

That’s why I can be certain about fate.

Because all other possibilities have been destroyed.

“Yebin.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me the sentence appearing before your eyes right now?”

I borrowed Yebin’s voice.

[New information has been added to the Survival Log of the Anomalous Apartment.]