Chapter 46

I can see Haemi who has entered the 1st floor of the Tower.

It felt awkward to see someone I was conversing with not long ago now inside such a small screen.

The broadcast hasn’t been turned on yet.

Once the broadcast is on, she will naturally receive attention.

Others’ attention inevitably increases the burden.

Regardless of whether it’s good attention or bad attention.

If that attention is expectation, one bears the burden of wanting to fulfill that expectation.

If that attention is merely preparation for criticism, one bears the burden of trying not to make mistakes.

I know this is just excessive conjecture and worry.

Nevertheless, I felt anxious, like watching a child left by the water.

“You have a severe condition.”

“Ah, if only I could run in her place.”

“And you’re sentimental too.”

“That’s not possible, right?”

Time’s gaze, as if finding me pathetic, pierces down.

I slowly turned my head.

“Your expressions seem to have become more varied?”

“Is that so? I’m glad the results of practice are showing.”

“You practiced that too?”

“It’s like rehabilitation training.”

Time smiles desolately.

That smile hung cold and painful like dew at dawn.

“Do you know? That loss hurts more after it happens than when it actually occurs.”

Time began speaking slowly, with intervals, but not too blurrily, as if tracing something.

“The empty space encountered while leading an ordinary life can’t look so big.”

Pretending to be fine, or without knowing how deep one’s wounds are, the empty space they face makes them stagger.

People have a dull side when it comes to emotional pain.

They fear facing it because the wound is bitter and painful.

In that sense, they are no different from children.

Like a child afraid of the sting of disinfectant, or a child trembling in fear of injections.

Well, I was the same.

I too had covered up what I was afraid to face.

“While talking nonchalantly, when you look back, that person is not there. Even if you laugh nonchalantly, that person’s laughter doesn’t follow. You pause at the empty space you encounter while acting nonchalantly. Then you realize. It was pretending after all. Pretending to be fine.”

Time continued calmly.

“The closer you are to that person, the larger the size of the empty space and the deeper its depth.”

It’s a pit. People try to fill that pit.

To avoid falling again.

Even if the pit is filled, the trace doesn’t disappear.

While filling the pit, they bury various memories in it.

Burying doesn’t mean forgetting.

The mound of soil that rises is like a tomb, remaining as a name called longing.

They quietly savor memories while feeling the nostalgia that occasionally rises from within.

That’s how they become accustomed.

Not forgetting, but while quietly buried inside, feeling the subtle nostalgia of memories, they live on pretending to be fine.

“Is that your own experience?”

“Experience… If it’s an experience, then it is. Just that I’m not the protagonist of that story.”

Time’s gaze turns to the screen on the phone I’m holding.

“I’m merely an observer. Because I’m a person standing slightly off-center from the event, not at its center.”

Where her gaze was directed was not at Haemi. She was taking in the background behind, the fictional world she created.

“It’s a story of someone other than me. It’s a story about a world that couldn’t be recorded as a happy ending.”

The stories contained in the Tower were ultimately someone’s stories.

Stories about those who existed in different dimensions, different times.

“They’re stories not recorded somewhere.”

“Your job is to record, isn’t it? Isn’t that neglect of duty?”

“They’ve been forgotten. They gradually became intangible to people and eventually disappeared.”

The themes of each 10 floors contained such stories.

“It’s like a fairy tale passed down orally. Like an old story that starts with ‘Once upon a time’ told by a grandmother.”

These are stories with predetermined endings.

No matter what story comes out in the Tower, it can’t become the official history.

The endings created by players are just ‘if’ side stories.

“Ah, I need to prepare for the broadcast. Don’t disturb me.”

“I haven’t disturbed you.”

Broadcasting the Tower climb actually has more disadvantages than advantages.

It’s not just about broadcasting.

Constellations leave messages, and players respond to them, creating two-way communication.

As a result, there are too many variables created.

It’s hard enough to focus only on combat, but the messages from the Constellations further disrupt concentration.

Some Constellations intentionally disrupt, aiming for that.

It’s not all bad.

Constellations provide real-time sponsorship and various information.

The Constellation broadcasting can also receive a juicy commission as a manager in between.

But in many ways, the disadvantages outweighed the advantages.

Nevertheless, the reason for broadcasting was, as expected, to build a narrative.

A narrative gains strength the more witnesses there are.

What one person says might not be believed, but when three people say it, it gains credibility.

The weight of one person’s words is lighter than two people’s, and two people’s words are lighter than three people’s.

They were witnesses who would testify to the players’ narratives.

The more viewers, the higher the quality of the narrative, making it easier to build tiers.

Click-clack. I typed on the phone and asked Haemi for her opinion.

[‘The Owner of the Bookshelf with Nostalgia’ asks if you want to broadcast.]

Despite that, the reason for asking her opinion was because I knew Haemi’s personality.

She struggles to bear others’ gazes and wavers more violently under sharp criticism.

All of this was meaningful only if she was alive.

If she’s not alive, that light would naturally fade.

“One shouldn’t foolishly cut open the belly of a goose that lays golden eggs. Not for your sake, but for my own benefit.”

“Hmm.”

Time was raising one eyebrow, making an unpleasant smile.

For some reason, feeling guilty, I pushed Time’s forehead back.

“It’s okay. You can broadcast.”

[‘The Owner of the Bookshelf with Nostalgia’ says you don’t have to if it’s burdensome.]

[‘The Owner of the Bookshelf with Nostalgia’ emphasizes once more that it’s a choice, not coercion.]

Haemi sees my message and is silent for a moment.

It’s a face as if deep in thought. She’s biting her lower lip out of habit.

At this familiar sight that occasionally appears, I felt an emotion I couldn’t define myself.

“I, I should do it anyway.”

It didn’t seem like she was speaking casually.

It must be a choice made after plenty of consideration.

Rather than denying that choice, it would be the right choice to trust it.

I set simple rules for the broadcast and started streaming.

[Rule 1. Don’t talk about things unrelated to Tower climbing]

[Rule 2. Don’t communicate with other Constellations (no socializing)]

[Rule 3. No slander, criticism, advice, or spamming]

[Rule 4. No mentioning of the rules]

This should be enough for now.

I was planning to be especially strict about criterion 3. I might not know about other players, but Haemi was a child with a particularly weak mentality.

“Aren’t you being too overprotective?”

“Maybe I am.”

Time tilts her head, perhaps not expecting me to agree right away.

I’m not a fool. I don’t overestimate myself.

I know that the Haemi I know and the current Haemi are the same but different beings.

I know her, but she doesn’t know me.

And acting as if I know everything about her would certainly be wrong behavior.

“But not yet.”

This was a judgment based on the information accumulated so far.

Since I know Haemi’s body responses for each emotion, I could roughly infer her current mental state based on that.

It’s just that I thought she needed to be held more tightly because she’s still in an unstable state.

“That’s somewhat perverted.”

“What are you saying?”

Grumbling, I observed those who entered the broadcast.

About two people had attempted to climb the Tower so far.

As both succeeded in climbing, others were also preparing to climb.

Even now, there were multiple channels with broadcasts turned on.

We started climbing at a timing that was neither too slow nor too fast.

With attention moderately dispersed, the number of viewers was not as high as the previous two who had turned on broadcasts.

But because of that, it was perfect for managing the broadcast.

It’s better to set the tone firmly at the beginning for ease later.

[Anonymous Constellation 6…]

[Anonymous Constellation 6 has been kicked out of the channel.]

I made an example by removing one person.

At a fast speed so that Haemi wouldn’t see the content.

[Anonymous Constellation 7 screams, saying a head flew off before their eyes.]

[Anonymous Constellation 7 carefully offers encouragement.]

“Th-thank you.”

[Anonymous Constellation 9 smiles at the fresh response.]

After that, as I continued to cut off the heads of—no, kick out—those who violated the rules from the channel, the broadcast gradually began to stabilize.

[Anonymous Constellation 1 smacks their lips in disappointment.]

“That’s disappointing.”

As expected, the identity of that anonymous person was ‘Time’.

Her hands seem to be quite quick.

[Anonymous Constellation 3 sends small encouragement, asking to show wonderful and fantastic pictures this time too.]

That would be ‘Longing’.

“Is there really any meaning to anonymity?”

“The player doesn’t know who we are.”

Time’s sensibility was difficult to understand.