Chapter 121
Of course, this method only worked once. The “Third Parties” weren’t idiots, and they wouldn’t do something unprofitable twice.
If you pushed it further, it would basically be openly picking a fight.
Just once. Exactly that one time. To extract the maximum profit from that single chance, you had to go “alone,” and at a “moment that wasn’t the designated time.”
Right now, Lee Hoin didn’t even know that what I had just mentioned was the “screening.” Only that guy understood. Opportunities where “Third Parties” gathered were extremely rare.
Even if it wasn’t the screening, if it was given as some other opportunity, in the end, the “Third Parties” would still gather.
‘Because it’s fun.’
In this world, an interesting story becomes power. It becomes money, and it becomes everything I have.
If you say you’ll create an interesting story, there’s no reason for them not to come. If they don’t like it, they simply won’t buy. If they want to make the board bigger, they’ll buy.
That guy already knew that. The one who had been jumping around burst into giggles, laughing brightly… too innocently, like a child, in a way that felt unpleasant.
‘He’s just borrowing that kid’s shell, yet he’s poorly imitating a child.’
If you peeled back the surface, he’d never be a child. I let out a breath and looked at him, and he spoke.
“What are you thinking? Huh? Huh? What on earth are you thinking?! I’m really, really curious!”
What am I thinking?
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
There was only one goal in my head… the one I had stated from the very beginning. To end all of this, to see the end of everything, I had to go all the way.
At the end of this disaster, at the end of this destruction, there was always one guy standing there.
The beginning of the disaster. The narrator.
He was there.
Whether I kill him, take the narrator’s position, and end everything, or make a contract with him and end it, everything I was doing was for the sake of ending all of this.
Of course it is. Compared to a world where I might die at any moment, even a shitty one like this, my own world is better. I don’t even know what I’ve accomplished there, but at least it was a world where I had made an effort.
To achieve that, for now, I had to become like Sa Jaeheon. Whether I could reach his level or not, I had to at least imitate him.
‘Because the narrator is hiding in the deepest place. At this rate, I won’t be able to reach that place.’
The protagonist, Sa Jaeheon, was described almost like an overpowered being. That was only natural. He was the protagonist, and he possessed the arguably broken ability of regression.
After regressing multiple times, he knew how to grow stronger, faster, and more efficiently. He was the kind of guy who dissected and utilized everything in the world.
‘He’s the kind of guy who spent days from scratch just to gather research data to figure out that mutants can detect changes in time.’
And that same guy was now sharpening his blade to take my head.
And among all those “Third Parties” throughout these long years, was there really not a single one who tried to kill the narrator?
Not just “Third Parties”… if you widened the scope to include all those with Titles, would it really be just one or two?
Countless people must have challenged him. And countless must have fallen or given up.
Among them, was there truly not a single one who surpassed Sa Jaeheon? There have been countless worlds and countless Title-bearers… so it made no sense that not even one surpassed him.
And yet, the reason this destruction continued across worlds was simple:
‘Because the narrator has not died.’
Despite countless challengers filled with killing intent coming after him, he still hadn’t died. He was still alive. No one had taken his authority.
Even Sa Jaeheon didn’t know who exactly the narrator was, what he did, why he did it, or how he got there.
Because he had never properly met him.
And right now, the narrator was unusually quiet.
“What do you mean? What am I thinking? The same thing you always thought.”
I dropped the useless politeness.
“The thoughts you had before you became what you are now.”
His expression twisted subtly. He must have realized what kind of “thought” I was talking about.
The thoughts he had before becoming a “Third Party.”
The desire to end this destruction. The desire to turn everything back. The desire to be together with everyone again.
“Your past is the same as my present.”
At that moment, his form distorted.
As if melting on the spot or simply disappearing, glitch-like distortions flickered across him.
“That’s why it’s interesting. Whether I’ll go through this moment and become something like you, or something else entirely… you hold the story of that branching point.”
I gave him a reason why he had no choice but to grant me that authority.
A story.
In the end, everything was connected through stories. That was what I placed before him.
Within the glitch, only his eyes remained unmelted as they stared at me. A static noise buzzed.
“So what will you do? Take the story, or just back off?”
The glitches intensified. His form became completely unrecognizable… just a black silhouette riddled with distortion.
His eyes blinked once. Then his form expanded, like a swelling shadow, repeatedly growing and shrinking.
—
[Ah, he is stepping beyond the bounds.]
[Maintaining moderation is always difficult.]
[Though sometimes, breaking moderation creates more interesting stories.]
—
Beyond the window, the glitch grinned.
“HAHAHA!”
And then he began laughing like a broken radio.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha-ha-ha.
After laughing for a long time, he spoke.
Right.
That’s right! Ah, I love this state right now.
It’s so interesting.
As he burst into mad laughter, he said:
—
[These gray areas that subtly slip past restrictions are always exasperating!]
[He is attempting to manifest.]
[The area the speaker has stepped into is clearly an audience chamber. Yes, though crudely implemented, it is still his space.]
[Of course, there are limits to manifestation…]
—
Beyond the sighing window, the flickering glitch soon stabilized into the form of a small boy.
It wasn’t the boy I originally knew. Though at a glance, I could see traces of that face.
But the difference was… everything about it was grotesquely distorted.
It looked like something crudely stitched together, mismatched and wrong.
From the long, stitched cracks across his face, something spilled out.
A liquid that looked just like what had come from Ernst earlier.
—
[Ha, when you do this long enough, you start to feel it. Just how hard we’ve worked to maintain the ‘appropriate level.’]
[Well then, I can’t just ‘not’ narrate this moment, can I? No matter how irritating or futile everything feels, work is still work.]
[What stands before the speaker is a fragment of “The Brat of Eternal Recurrence and the Closed Nightmare.” To be precise, only the “mouth” has manifested. Listen closely… can you not still hear the voice?]
—
‘The mouth’?
—
Mm-hmm. Before I grant it, let me ask just one more thing.
—
Of all things, the “mouth”?
—
What kind of story are you going to sell?
If possible, can’t you sell your past?
I’m really curious about what kind of thought process made you who you are. I bet everyone else is thinking the same thing.
So you won’t sell it, right? Hm?
That’s your weapon, after all! A weapon that drives everyone mad with curiosity!
—
His mouth poured out words like a flood bursting through a dam.
At some point, Lee Hoin had covered his ears and collapsed beside me, groaning.
I didn’t know how it sounded to him, but at least to me, it sounded like a “voice.”
—
The Clown said this… you’re something that shouldn’t exist. But from what I see, you should exist.
This world, you see…
That “regressing” guy got a Title, right?
And yet you’re here too.
But you see, the Clown is mistaken about something… just because someone regresses doesn’t mean they can save the world.
—
He muttered.
—
All of this is a single wish.
My wish is to save this world. A wish filled with certainty that if I go back again and again and start over, I’ll be able to save it next time.
But think about your existence.
You’re not from this world. Anyone can tell just by looking at the parameters attached to your story.
—
—
[He’s starting to say things that go too far.]
[Yes, good. For now, he is still following the rules. “For now.”]
—
Through gritted teeth, the one beyond the window continued:
—
Now, I’ll give you a story.
This one is free.
Because I feel like if you take this story, you’ll give me an even better one later.
Listen carefully.
Everything is a wish. Even gaining traits and skills is a kind of wish… it shows what you loved most in life and what you desired most strongly.
And you… think again about your existence.
—
He smiled.
Even to me, who didn’t fully understand, it was a dangerously precarious statement… just like that “window” insisting the rules were still being followed.
—
You shouldn’t be here.
So why did you come here?
Did the “narrator” create you naturally? Why would he? He could’ve just destroyed your world instead.
You, you see…
—
The glitches intensified.
The “narrator” was interfering.
The shape of the speaking mouth tore apart and melted mid-sentence.
Even so, his words had already reached me in full.
—
You might be someone else’s wish.
Isn’t that a really interesting idea?
—
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