Chapter 18

The scenery of streets soaking in rain offers a handful of specialness within familiarity.

I gaze at the window streaming with raindrops.

The droplets attached to the window fall at different speeds.

It was as if the rain had been miniaturized and was also falling on the window.

I look at the city, which seems submerged in water.

The city lights, appearing to blur, create the illusion of being inside the sea.

The particles of light formed distinctly on top of the lights enter my eyes particularly vividly.

“Friend, huh.”

The dictionary definition of a friend is as follows.

A person with whom one has a close, long-term relationship.

But it’s a word that feels somewhat dissonant to express with such rigid language.

It seems to contain more meanings than what’s contained in the dictionary.

I looked at the empty glass, the empty seat.

Ber had temporarily left her seat to go to the restroom.

Thanks to that, I’m thinking a lot.

“That’s right. We’re friends.”

It’s hard to share what’s inside.

I didn’t want to bother others with my unnecessary emotions.

“Then at least hide your expression well. Your face shows everything.”

Ber sat down, roughly stroking my head.

“What? When did you come back?”

“Just now. How far could the restroom be?”

“Did you wash your hands before coming out?”

“Who knows?”

She messes with my head as if it’s dirty, and Ber laughs with a giggle.

“Hahaha.”

I was glad that the atmosphere seemed to have lightened a bit.

Maybe because she ruffled it too strongly, the beret I was wearing on my head fell off.

“Haven’t you been wearing this for a long time?”

Ber asked, picking up the beret that had fallen to the ground.

She examines it so thoroughly this way and that.

“What are you doing? It’s not like you’re evaluating it.”

“Occupational disease.”

Slurp. Ber wets her throat with beer.

When drinking coffee, she had a feeling of a noble lady, but when drinking beer, she gives off a tough mafia-like vibe.

“It’s just the first gift my disciples gave me.”

Feeling somewhat embarrassed to say it, I turned my head and muttered quietly.

“Why are you embarrassed?”

Ber took the beret from my hand and covered her face with it.

“It’s just like a grandmother being happy receiving gifts from her young grandchildren.”

“What are you saying? Sometimes your sensibility is hard to understand.”

“Am I too ahead of my time?”

“Can you go further ahead than the present?”

“That’s true.”

As we conversed like this, the awkward atmosphere that was there until just a moment ago seemed somewhat diluted.

“Here, I bought alcohol.”

Just then, the old man returned with alcohol.

“What? You had alcohol?”

“She said there were only two cans.”

He nods as if understanding and sits down.

“Cheers.”

We open the cans, toast, and take a drink.

I don’t know why this barley-scented beverage, which I didn’t even like originally, tastes so sweet now.

“So what’s the matter this time?”

“What?”

“Whenever you say you want to drink alcohol, it’s always not just an ordinary matter.”

“Was it like that?”

“Yes, it was.”

Ber also expresses agreement. I felt awkwardly embarrassed.

Ah, I see. So that’s why they made such a fuss every time I said I wanted to drink alcohol.

It was both touching and embarrassing.

“Hehe.”

“You’re not already drunk, are you?”

“I’ve only had one sip so far.”

“Yes, you can get drunk on that one sip. Don’t limit yourself.”

“Is that how that phrase is used?”

Having developed a taste for teasing, Ber eagerly teases me.

“Yes, I couldn’t believe it at first either. But you have an efficient body that can get drunk on just one sip.”

The old man also joins in, eagerly teasing me.

“Well, it could happen.”

Alcohol is not treated as a poison within the Tower.

If we had to specify, it could be said that it’s left to the user’s judgment.

This means it’s possible to treat it as toxic under normal circumstances, but not to treat it as a poison only when drinking alcohol.

It was a more convenient feature than expected.

I don’t understand why alcohol is specially treated while things like cigarettes are completely blocked.

* * *

“Ha, what do you mean you’re not drunk.”

Ber looked at Lib with eyes full of disbelief.

She got drunk without even finishing one glass.

Lib is sprawled on the table, firmly grasping the beer can.

She was proving she was still alive by wiggling her legs.

“Ugh. Tastes bad.”

“Hair isn’t meant to be eaten in the first place.”

I said, removing the hair that had entered Lib’s mouth.

She’s in a completely disheveled state.

Despite that, she’s somehow still wearing that beret.

Actually, rather than wearing it, it would be more appropriate to say it’s just placed on her head.

“Ugh. Don’t want to say goodbye. Don’t like goodbyes.”

“Why don’t you like goodbyes?”

I don’t understand what she’s saying.

It was always hard to understand her inner thoughts, but it seems to have gotten worse recently.

“It hurts too much. I don’t want to hurt.”

Pitter-patter. The falling raindrops erase the momentary silence.

The night scenery getting soaked in the rain had an exotic taste.

I didn’t dislike the rain, which brought small changes to the daily life in the Tower where changes were rare.

Come to think of it, I think Lib introduced me to a whale called Golgol or something.

A whale that brings rain, a sky whale, I think she called it.

It was a child where the concept of weather, particularly rain, was embodied as a whale.

I wonder how that child is doing now.

“Ah.”

Then I realized.

Why Lib is so sad.

I was slow to realize because I was obtuse.

The rainy sky, the whale that makes it rain, and the girl who cherished that whale.

Was she talking about farewells when she mentioned greetings?

Silently, I stroked Lib’s back.

“Hehe.”

Then she comes snuggling up, smiling like a fool.

Seeing Lib burrowing into my embrace, I could only allow it with a dejected smile.

“How can I see you as an adult when you act like this? So fragile and so foolish.”

If it hurts so much, she could share it, but I don’t understand why she tries to bear it alone.

“You’re such a coward that you can’t even start things properly alone.”

The reason she knows so much about time is because after all her disciples died, she was obsessed with related research for a while.

I knew because I provided funding for that research.

She said she gave up because it was difficult to persuade the Tower and the Abyss, but I knew that was a lie.

Though I’m not exactly sure why.

“Farewells are always difficult.”

Chunmong, who was quietly drinking by himself in the corner, opened his mouth.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? I’m a bit hurt.”

Lib looks at Chunmong with wide eyes. Judging by her expression, it seems that’s the case.

No wonder she was so surprised when we met earlier.

“@#$. @#%#@.(But what can I do when I’m scared? When I say goodbye, it makes the parting feel more real.)”

Lib spoke with extremely tangled, inaccurate pronunciation. It was more amazing that Chunmong could interpret it correctly.

It was the typical behavior of a drunkard, but Chunmong seemed accustomed to it and was accommodating.

“I’m afraid that when I meet them again, they’ll be different people.”

The words she muttered, even Ber could understand this.

“It might be fun to find the differences from your memory, like finding differences in pictures.”

“It’s not wrong, it’s different.”

To Lib’s grumbling words, Chunmong said with a smile,

“Then should we call it ‘finding different pictures’ instead of ‘finding wrong pictures’?”

Chunmong takes a sip of alcohol and continues.

“But you know what? Saying that means you also know, right? Just because they show a different appearance from your memory doesn’t mean they’re wrong. It means you’re literally seeing different aspects of those people.”

Lib kept her mouth shut and didn’t answer.

“She’s thoroughly drunk.”

Ber shook her head back and forth, yet pulled Lib closer into her embrace to keep her warm.

“You said you liked being able to find specialness within familiarity when looking at rainy day scenery, right? It’s the opposite task. Wouldn’t it also be fun to find familiarity within specialness?”

Chunmong said, looking out the window.

The sky is still dark. Rain falling from the sky full of dark clouds soaks the city.

“Losing memories doesn’t make a person not that person. A person doesn’t stop being who they are just because they have amnesia.”

“What if they dislike me? Just because they’re the same doesn’t mean I’m confident they’ll like me again.”

Lib mumbles timidly.

“You said time has elasticity, right? That’s even better then. Your disciples will end up liking you anyway.”

The room is getting soaked with their voices, quietly, like the rain soaking outside.

I can see Lib conversing with Chunmong.

I was glad to see she seemed to be feeling better.

But on the other hand, I also had a complaint.

It was a complaint about myself, not anyone else.

I wanted to properly comfort her, but I felt pathetic for not even being able to do that properly.

This is why she didn’t share her inner feelings with me.

Though it was an understandable reason even to myself, I couldn’t help but feel bitter.

I downed the remaining beer in one go.

“Hehehe. Ber, thank you.”

I spilled the beer because of Lib, who snuggled up to me, smiling broadly.

“No, what are you doing? You spilled all the beer.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just thank you. I’m glad Ber is my friend.”

They say you can’t spit on a smiling face, and I couldn’t say anything more to Lib’s beaming face.

“What? Suddenly?”

Even so, the corners of Ber’s mouth were slightly turned up.