The Way to Love in the Place of Dead Chapter 13

It should have been an obvious statement, given that he’d asked about the cost of the building, yet why did it feel so suspicious?

“But I did it because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t like the architectural style. So instead of paying damages, I made a deal to rebuild it to my own taste. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Don’t ask me.”

It was a conversation where common sense simply didn’t apply, so he gave up thinking any further.

[51st Floor.]

When they stepped out of the stopped elevator, a corridor stretched out coolly to both sides. Past all the rooms spaced at intervals along the way, at the very end. Room 5101.

Beneath the front door and a small bell, a nameplate divided into four sections was affixed.

Aran Rapperd

Iris Bernstein

Jude Peng

In order: Aran Rapperd, Iris Bernstein, Jude Peng, and one blank spot.

Wondering if his name would end up filling that space, Kay examined the interior that Aran had thrown open.

“Here we are. Our quarters.”

The spacious, clean, and pleasant space overwhelmed the senses.

“Come in.”

He took off his worn shoes and stepped slowly inside. The smooth, cool sensation of the marble was something he had never been able to feel in Willamere, which was full of sand. Feeling the unfamiliar texture, he followed the guidance and stood before the first door of the hallway branching off to the right, centered around the living room.

“This is your room.”

Aran gestured toward the door handle, as if yielding it to him. Kay, harboring a subtle tension over something so trivial, opened the door. A space so vast it made him wonder, ‘Can this really be called a room?’ met his eyes.

“The other rooms already have owners, you see. It’s the smallest, but the view is good, so don’t take it badly.”

Aran, who had entered ahead of him, threw open the full-length window straight ahead. Just as he’d said, the landscape of Limpus came into view in a single glance. A city shining with an intensity that seemed to erase even the darkness that had fallen after the sunset, which had faded before he knew it.

‘This is…’

The heart of Limpus. The place the person he loved most had spoken of.

—The sky, huh.

That was around ten months after everyone in the circus troupe had died and he’d begun traveling with El.

—Yeah. You really can’t see it in Willamere.

El’s pace slowed as she looked up at the darkness, for which “ceiling” was a more accurate term than “sky.” Kay, who had been walking ahead, noticed the footsteps growing distant and then stopping altogether, and turned to look back. He saw El sprawled out on the sand just as she was.

—El?

—Let’s stop walking for today. I think I’m tired.

—We walked less than usual.

—Old people get tired!

Sitting down beside the complaining El, Kay spread out a curtain made of fire. This was the reason they could embark on their journey in light clothing without a tent.

At that, El grabbed his waist and pulled him down to lie beside her.

—Whoa!

Her billowing robe fluttered, whipping up the sandy wind.

—Kay.

—Yeah.

El, who had closed her eyes as if about to fall asleep at any moment, held Kay’s body close and murmured.

—The truth is…

—Yeah.

—I don’t think this place’s ceiling and Limpus’s sky are all that different.

—That’s sophistry.

—Who taught you that word?

—You did.

As if he were being infuriating, El pinched Kay’s cheek, but it was an honest sentiment.

Calling it a ceiling was putting it nicely; it was practically Limpus’s floor. It was a statement that would appall those who lived relying solely on the rays of light seeping through the gaps of what was called the Limpus River. To those who couldn’t even reach their bottom, El’s assertion was pure sophistry.

—But if you go to Limpus, the sky they see, trapped without even realizing they’re trapped, is just as black… just like Willamere’s sky.

He felt proud that he could understand the figurative meaning of the “black” she spoke of, and at the same time, he thought that she, with her face buried against his back, was lost in strange thoughts again today without fail, and looked up at Willamere’s ceiling.

—But El. This and that sky are really different. Look.

Kay shook El, who had buried her face against his body. As if she had no choice, El raised her head again and looked at the fingertip Kay was pointing to.

—A butt.

—A butt?

—There. See?

The Limpus dome minimized gravity by spreading tension, but it was impossible to keep a space of that size suspended indefinitely. So a massive pillar had been driven into the center, connecting it to Willamere, and the part where that pillar was embedded was slightly indented inward, making it look like a butt crack.

—Pfft!

El, who had been peering into the darkness with narrowed eyes, burst into laughter. Then she laughed for a long time. Even after sitting up, clutching her stomach as if it hurt from laughing too much, she laughed like crazy, then wiped her tears and hiccuped. Just as Kay wondered, ‘Is it that funny?’, El draped herself over him and called his name.

—Kay.

—What?

—I just called you.

As she tilted her head and smiled, her golden hair cascaded over Kay’s shoulder. Was it because she had lived seeing the blue sky that Willamere people died without ever once seeing in their lifetime? In her eyes, there was always the universe.

—El.

—Yeah?

Whenever he called her name, the universe always turned toward him.

—I just called you, too.

El said that everything that existed in the world was finite, and among them, time especially was such a painfully limited resource, and she grieved it. Back then, he didn’t know what that meant. So only after losing her did the questions he hadn’t been able to ask multiply.

That time when they had called each other’s names without meaning.

What did my existence, which would have been fine even without, mean to you?

That at least the memories with me, to whom you devoted your time—the most precious of finite things—might be infinite. I could only hope.

—Shall we look at it together someday? The bright blue sky.

Unable to forget a single one of those promises.

Just as El had said, Limpus’s sky was the same as Willamere’s, so no rain fell. Yet there were definitely things that got wet.

The sky. The sun and moon. And morning.

Greeting the intangible existences he had only known as words, Kay closed the book he had been holding.

Inside the bag Jin had handed over were uniforms, civilian clothes, and also a map and books about Limpus. Kay, who had been unable to sleep because the night was too bright, put away the book he’d finished reading and took out the uniform to put it on.

He fastened the stiff buttons despite the lustrous quality of the fabric, laced up his combat boots, and faced himself in the mirror.

Nothing had changed, yet somewhere in his reflection, he looked unfamiliar.

“Shall we go.”

It was his first day of choosing to live by his own will in Limpus.

Last night,

Aran, who had shown him to his room, shared a map of the Center through the bracelet and said,

“It wouldn’t hurt to look around the Center for a day. You’ll need time to adjust.”

Following the suggestion of Aran, who had then left after receiving a communication, Kay finished his preparations and stepped out of the Residential Complex.

As he walked along the well-tended greenery and neatly paved paths, he saw people exercising in comfortable clothes and returnees pouring out of the Transfer Hall. Beyond one of the side roads, he also spotted the building Kay had destroyed, marked with a sign that read ‘Under Construction.’ His consciousness at the time of the destruction had been dominated by rage, so the memory was hazy, but seeing it now, he thought, ‘I really did a number on it, didn’t I?’

‘Maybe I feel a little sorry.’

He briefly admired the ruined building, then walked on. Checking the signposts installed at every fork in the road, he traversed the vast grounds for quite a while before arriving in front of the building he had most wanted to see on the Center map.

‘So this is…’

The edifice he looked up at, bearing the traces of a long time, still maintained its ivory hue and gleamed. The columns of the gallery were covered with enormous stained glass, coloring the walls and floor with magnificent pictures.

Admiring the artwork that changed depending on the lighting, Kay held his bracelet up to the machine, just as he had at the entrance of the Residential Complex.

[System: Access Granted]

Along with the holographic text, the entrance opened.

Approximately 16,000 pyeong. Housing a total of 768,777 records. On its ceiling were drawn hieroglyphs recording the ancient land of a time long past, when Limpus and Willamere were not yet divided. The posthumous work of the legendary architect Toran Lebula, who passed away just a few years ago.

When he opened the large inner door at the end of the corridor, the smell of time rushed in. This was the very first destination Kay had decided on within the Center.

The Central Library.