Ch.6262. Decision.

# 62.

Forgetfulness is a curse that makes humans finite beings, weak creatures who must rely on the power of others.

Yet, just as a poisonous herb that kills upon consumption can be used as medicine when handled properly, forgetfulness both torments humans and brings them happiness.

No perfect human exists in this world. Because humans grow through failure. Naturally, humans experience many frustrations and failures.

If we had to live carrying all those feelings of frustration—the fear of having our will denied and various other emotions—exactly as they are, how many people could remain mentally sound?

In that sense, forgetfulness was both a curse and a divine blessing. A blessing that pushes us forward, preventing us from dwelling too long on our shameful behavior, urging us to seek happiness not yet discovered rather than despair already passed.

“Aaaaargh!”

However, this divine blessing did not visit me after my disgraceful behavior the previous night.

Despite drinking alcohol—which can turn even normal people into fools and make them forget important promises involving money or life—until I lost my reason, my memory remained crystal clear, able to recreate even the sensation of cold air against my skin.

It seemed God was angry because I had spouted all sorts of nonsense, including claims that God never existed in this world.

[You’ll die of hypothermia if you sleep outside after drinking!!!!]

[Someone stop this person!]

[Who’s there to stop them?!]

What on earth did I do yesterday?

Reading the messages piled up on my Controller, I kicked off the blanket and pulled at my hair as I recalled my actions and words from yesterday.

“Talking about the moon and dead people being friends… what was I saying, seriously.”

I knew alcohol makes people honest—or more directly, stupid—but I never expected it to be this bad.

It wasn’t strange for me to feel lonely or anxious, wandering alone on the verge of collapse on the ruined Ark.

But I rarely voiced such negative emotions out loud.

Will resides in the voice that emerges through thought. Will transmitted through sound, which travels almost as fast as light, has a tremendous impact on the listener. Even if that listener is oneself.

In this quiet world where all the sounds heard throughout the day could be counted on just ten fingers, constantly grumbling negative words because of hardship would ironically cause me to be consumed by my emotions, becoming more depressed and trapped in an inescapable cycle.

Having gained this insight through numerous frustrations, I tried not to speak about negative emotions as they were—or even if I did, I spoke without emotion, in a flat tone.

“Mmmmmgh!”

Alcohol ruined everything.

As if taking revenge for my bringing out the hidden alcohol, it controlled me and exposed everything I had carefully hidden to the world.

Now everyone knew I was lonelier and more unstable than they could have imagined.

And the impact was—surprisingly minimal.

The only messages that arrived while I slept were concerns about whether I might freeze to death.

Apart from strange comments about how cute my drunken behavior was, everyone showed a surprisingly lack of interest in my eccentric behavior and rambling words.

Whether this was warm consideration for someone who made mistakes while drunk for the first time, or because everyone already vaguely knew I was this kind of person… it was fortunate either way. Though still embarrassing.

“At least I didn’t show any truly shameful behavior…”

I did some strange things like walking to the edge of a rooftop without railings or waving at the moon.

But compared to drunkards who suddenly take off their shirts, smash nearby objects, or shout loudly while others are sleeping and get arrested by responding police… I was relatively well-behaved.

If I had done those things, people’s messages wouldn’t have been as warm as they were.

This is really fortunate… fortunate…

“—Fortunate?”

At that moment, the blanket covering me was pulled away.

The first thing I faced when dragged from my comfortable world into cold reality was the Robot’s face, still tinged red.

Though it was the color of fire, the emotion felt there resembled ice.

Despite being wrapped in layers of blankets thick enough to feel oppressive, I felt cold and bowed my head with my hands clasped, maintaining my prone position.

“I’m sorry…”

The Robot had warned me multiple times. Don’t drink. Drink moderately. Don’t go up there because it’s dangerous, don’t stay in places like this, let’s go down quickly.

But drunk me was more stubborn than I realized.

And the Robot, despite seeming human-like, was still a robot and couldn’t stop my forceful behavior.

If the Robot hadn’t brought so many blankets, I might have died without waking up, like the person by the door.

Considering that robots can barely lift heavy objects, it must have climbed up and down to this high place several times to bring this many blankets.

I remained prostrate before the Robot for quite some time, feeling like a criminal and like someone facing their lifesaver.

“At least you’re safe, which is fortunate.”

“That’s because I had a good friend right by my side.”

“Flattery won’t work on me!”

“It’s not flattery, it’s 100% sincere.”

“Enough. …Just keep your promise.”

“Of course.”

The Robot’s anger lasted a long time. I was even told that next time this happened, my fingertips and toes would be electrocuted until I regained my senses.

When I protested that was too harsh, the Robot said “You must still be drunk” and showed me an arm with electricity crackling at the end—it was terrifying.

I was only forgiven on the condition that I would give the Robot a more detailed maintenance than last time when I had the chance.

“Ugh, why did I sleep in a place like this? My body’s stiff. My head hurts… and I feel nauseous.”

“You brought this on yourself.”

The journey down with empty bottles and heavy blankets was extremely difficult.

Stairs I would normally descend in one go took several stops due to my headache and nausea.

“Now you understand, right? Alcohol is forbidden from now on, forbidden!”

The Robot said, watching me stagger much more than usual, partly due to sleeping on the cold floor.

“Hmm…”

I averted my eyes and swallowed at those words.

From now on…

My curiosity, the main reason I drank, was satisfied, and after this rough experience, my desire to drink had completely disappeared.

“…You’re not thinking of drinking again, are you?”

“Well… who knows.”

But when I thought about “from now on,” I couldn’t help remembering the warmth and joy I rarely felt otherwise.

Since these were sensations difficult to experience here, I kept thinking that if I didn’t drink often and avoided dangerous places, it might be quite alright.

To captivate someone with just one experience—it wasn’t called the devil’s water for nothing.

“It seems wasteful to just throw away so much.”

“I think it’s more wasteful to carry such harmful things and waste space.”

“I’ll keep it in the cargo hold and you can manage it!”

“You know I can’t do as I please with it anyway!”

“…You caught me.”

In the end, after many excuses and compromises, I was able to move two unopened bottles of alcohol to the cargo hold.

* * *

The moonlight that had illuminated the city recently seemed like a one-night miracle, as cloudy days continued afterward.

During that time, I wandered around the city looking for ways to open the Tower’s door and reach the upper levels, but found nothing significant.

Like they say the criminal returns to the scene, I rode Alexander close to look around in case there were clues near the door, but still couldn’t find a way.

“Alright. Let’s blow it up.”

I said, staring blankly at the Tower. If we could somehow target the cracks, we might be able to create a hole to get inside.

“Blow up what, this wall?! Did you drink secretly?!”

“I’m perfectly fine! There’s no other way, you said you don’t have the authority to touch this door.”

“That’s true, but…”

The Robot was shocked at my suggestion to blow up the intact wall. Its expression showed it couldn’t understand or agree at all.

But now there really was no other option. If there had been an easy way to force the door open from outside, the large city in front wouldn’t have been built in the first place.

With the doorkeeper robot ceasing to function, any normal way to enter from outside had completely disappeared.

I wanted to ask the ancient people why they hadn’t created a manual way to open the door.

But thinking about it, like the elevator, this place too—the Tower and the Robot’s role wasn’t to guide everyone comfortably to Paradise, but rather to prevent people from ascending.

If someone without qualifications entered Paradise just because the Robot stopped working, problems would likely arise, so they chose to let no one in at all.

“If we blow up these cracks just right, couldn’t we create a space for us to enter?”

So I decided to use physical methods. The explosives that had made a hole in the thick outer wall of the factory in the snowfield.

Since they pierced that thick wall, they should be able to make at least a hole big enough for Alexander to enter here. I was glad I had kept them just in case.

“But blowing it up is too dangerous. If complex machinery is operating inside, it could cause a chain reaction of explosions, and in the worst case, the Tower might collapse.”

“I know, but we have no other options.”

No plans, no information. Being an impromptu idea, it carried considerable risk.

But staying here meant death anyway. I’d already learned that even seemingly sufficient food wouldn’t last as long as expected.

Dying in an explosion or being crushed by a collapsing tower would be terrible.

Yet I believed it was far better than dying helplessly of starvation without making any choices.

Taking risks and making decisions is the right of living humans alone.

I’m sorry for the Robot, born to maintain and repair the city.

But I had no intention of giving up my rights until the end.