"Please don’t get too close."
A third voice—neither Gong Isu nor Ga Pureum. Looks like there was a hospital staffer guiding Ga Pureum.
A wide room with no furniture. Inner walls made of something soft. A strange, cornerless space finished as a circle.
A ward prepared for only one kind of patient—in other words, a room to protect patients suffering from the condition called [Time Travel].
Even a sound mind might go mad if locked in that plain, stimulus-free room. But Gong Isu spent a long time there alone.
"Yes. It’s interesting, isn’t it?"
Ga Pureum squats, knees together, to meet Gong Isu’s gaze as he sits cross-legged.
Because I have to peep through Ga Pureum’s eyes to watch her memories, I’m forced to face Gong Isu as well.
"......"
Instead of the clock I saw last time, a metal helmet sits there. Why does his head change shape once in a while?
When he traveled through time, his head turned into a clock.
And now?
Maybe it reflects his will to reject outside interference.
"I’ve heard similar stories here and there by now. This person named Kim Sinhwa. Mm~ I don’t even know if ‘person’ is correct. People remember Kim Sinhwa’s appearance differently, and they perceive his age all over the map. Uh, eighteen to twenty-three. Twenty-six. Thirty-four. Thirty-nine. Most say ‘in his twenties,’ but wow, look at this! Someone even said ‘in his forties.’ Anyway, that curious being seems to wander the ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) world granting people’s wishes."
Propping her chin on her arms atop her knees, Ga Pureum chatters out content that isn’t even her own will.
"But according to what I’ve dug up, everyone whose wish Kim Sinhwa granted always lost what was most precious to them."
Invisible strings tug at the muscles in Ga Pureum’s face.
"And then, before they know it—"
An artificially manufactured, ominous smile.
"They start talking as if Kim Sinhwa is the most precious, most important person to them."
Wearing that wicked, twitching smile, Ga Pureum whispers to Gong Isu.
"What did Kim Sinhwa take from you?"
"Wolha..."
Just as Gong Isu starts to answer, other memories surge in and the scene shifts.
Wolha?
Within what I know, that word has nothing to do with Gong Isu.
Wolha...
Turning over the meaning of the word he said, I’m hurled into other memories of Ga Pureum’s.
Images flash past in an instant.
I don’t even have the right to blink; I have to experience a massive volume of memories all at once.
"Huh? Hyeonji is... no, sir mage is..."
Jang Hyundeok scratches his head, looking troubled.
Yang Seonho scowls, displeased.
Heo Sanghyun looks like he wants to cry but can’t shed tears.
Park Gwangrim, terrified, searching for Nirvana.
Many other scenes roll by.
Yeom Cheolmin, whose arm I cut off; Gu Jincheol, half-ruined and sequestered at home; Go Gyeongsu, swaddled in bandages and lying in a hospital; the Conqueror sitting blankly in Bongam Hall; Mun Gyeongnam’s funeral; biker punks with permanent damage to their arms or legs; cultists roaming the streets chanting my name; Bongilcheonpa thugs who became ability users against their will; the Samduhoe, trapped by my stratagem and locked in a fight that will never end; Yeon, still prowling around Jang Hyundeok’s old home; people still suffering delirium because of the commotion I caused; the motel I destroyed while hunting Lee Changhyeok; the collapsed gym in Sejong City, now just a trace; the Great Wall still not fully repaired; the apartment complex in Paju turned to ruins; Seoraksan caved in; Sirangsan gone; Busan’s Gijang District turned to desert.
All faces I know, places I know.
With an Intelligence stat of 30, I can’t forget anything; I remember their shifts in expression, their manner of speech, their actions, even their thoughts—everything.
Memories selected purely for accusations against me and misfortunes tied to me crash over me like waves.
In the middle of this confusing, disgusting audiovisual torture—
‘Huh? Wait, what’s that?’
There was a peculiar clip that snatched my eyes for the briefest moment. That—? Huh? That—? Thaaat!? What did that guy just do?
Why didn’t Ga Pureum show that properly?
Just as my awareness starts to focus on some memory far ahead—
"Bang!"
Ga Pureum suddenly pops into view and fires a finger-gun at me.
‘So the memory games are over?’
No matter what, she can’t keep watching herself from third person; guess she’s about to get to the point.
"This kind~!" "To show—" "plan—" "—was?"
"No?!" "...it wasn’t."
"Don’t-do thaat~!"
Ga Pureum laughs brightly for a beat, then shifts through versions of herself from different times, stringing fragments together.
"Because you." "Came in!" "And foun~d?" "It,"
"Wow! So fun!" "I lost..."
"Now—" "Uwaah, what are you—" "—going to do?"
This is inside Ga Pureum’s memory, her unconscious, and at the same time her dream.
In a sense, it’s like the dream chatroom where I sometimes talk with my other personas.
Ordinarily, as a character inside the dream, I wouldn’t have any independent right to speak, but—
[crackle-crackle-crackle!!]
I raise mana and forcibly seize the privilege.
『Are we done now? It’s unpleasant, sure, but so what? They’re NPCs in a game anyway; why should I care what those punks say?』
A message delivered by will, not voice.
"Hmm—"
Ga Pureum’s mouth curls like a cat’s.
"Could you tell me in more detail?" "What actually happened?" "If it isn’t that important," "oh, I can write it however I want?" "This is really entertaining!"
A devil’s forked choice.
<Is it precious? I’ll ruin it.>
<Not precious? I’ll ruin it.>
Damn it, annoying.
If I lose pacing here, things go exactly the way it wants.
So I shoot will at the sly thing behind Ga Pureum, laced with composure, sneers, leisure, boredom, and mild annoyance.
『Mm~ do as you like. But there was one interesting bit in what you showed me, you know? That channel you flipped right when it was getting juicy? Let’s watch just that one and then talk again. Sounds good?』
No need to wait for an answer.
I’m an Eighth-Order mage now.
[vrrrrrrrr— bzzt-bzzt-bzzt—]
『You thought something like this could hold me?』
Mana warps and expands the space made of memory, unconscious, and dream.
[crack! crack! crackle!]
"Kya-ha-ha! You’re really funny!" "Showing off—" "It won’t work!"
[System: The trait ‘Feast’s Offering’ activates.]
"This place!" "Is where I can do a bit more—" "work?" "Waaow—" "youu?" "Can’t do as you please!"
Moving awkwardly like a puppet on strings, Ga Pureum tries to pin me down.
[shla-shla-shlak!]
[System: The shadow of ‘Abyssal Entity – Weaver of Dreams’ approaches your side.]
‘At last, the true face.’
[Weaver of Dreams].
A colossal spider that passes between human unconscious minds—spinning webs that link [Dreamlands] and [Reality].
She is the Abyssal Entity [Blind Weaver]’s most beloved daughter, and also the selfsame being, and also her shadow.
It’s a complex setup reminiscent of a Trinitarian theology, but the short version is: an avatar of the [Blind Weaver].
[tzzzzzzzzzz—]
Even as a lesser avatar, she’s still an Abyssal being.
When she really starts pulling power, my mana shrivels in an instant.
Four arms sprout from her back before I know it.
With a total of six hands, she spins skeins of memory that wrap around my mind.
Skin splitting with a wet-tearing sound. Grotesque eyeballs peering from the cracks.
Blood-red eyes swelling obscenely. Enormous fangs bursting through torn lips.
No trace of a human shape remains.
But this is a dream.
Reason checks are waived—and even if they weren’t, I don’t have arachnophobia.
『Yeah, cute. Very cute. Anyway, you’ve already given up imitating Ga Pureum, haven’t you?』
"Chirrurrrk—?"
[Weaver of Dreams] makes an awkward questioning noise with her fang-jawed mouth.
『I’m still synchronized with Ga Pureum’s mind, you know. Understand what that means?』
Bound hand and foot, I trigger a spell. This time it’s not something that exerts influence outward—it targets me.
[Form Absorption]
[Blurry Identity]
[Memory Thief]
[vrrrrr—]
The [Impli Mask] reflects an identity I’ve absorbed and changes my appearance.
My limbs shrink a lot—and my chest, my head, my face—well, lots of things—
In an instant I become the spitting image of Ga Pureum—and from my mouth, lines Ga Pureum would plausibly say flow out naturally, without my will.
"Yap! Ga Pu appears!"
Ah, damn.
Right—this is what Ga Pu’s original personality is like. A bit embarrassing.
"Yaha, o-okay—got it? This dumb system can’t tell me and Ga Pu apart right now."
If the only goal were to check the info, there’d be no need to rummage in Ga Pu’s head. Heheng—my plan coming in was to secure as much as possible from Ga Pu’s mind before I left, you know?
Wearing Ga Pu’s image, barely holding up the now-baggy [Night-Cloak Robe], I swing the [Blade of Flesh]. Wow! This is fun! Behold the power of this magic!
[Narcissus’s Sigh]
Daffodil fragrance scatters in every direction.
Magic that induces powerful self-love churns Ga Pu’s memories.
"That’s right, Ga Pu! It’s me! The real you! Not that weird spider sis! Look at me!"
[System: ‘Heightened Vigilance’ activates.]
"Chirrurrrrk!!"
Realizing what I’m doing, the [Weaver of Dreams] charges me—but in Ga Pu’s voice, cadence, and expressions, I wave her off.
"Then I’m changing the channel. Bye-bye~ spider sis! See you again!"
[crackle-crackle-crackle!!]
Among Ga Pu’s dizzy, flowing memories—there, that one!
Ga Pu—or rather, I—want the next part of that interview.
[bzzzzzt!!]
In an instant—the backdrop flips.
Leaving the [Weaver of Dreams] behind, I—or Ga Pu—flee into a different memory.
The Round Room at Paju Central Hospital.
Gong Isu sits cross-legged, facing Ga Pu.
I want to hear the rest of what Gong Isu said earlier. It was wildly out of the blue, right?
And between those rapidly flipping memory images just now, I saw something strange. It was mesmerizing—cool.
"Moonlit Fragrance."
Right, that. Ah—so he said Moonlit Fragrance.
Like a practiced actor, I deliver Ga Pu’s line for her.
"Sorry? Moon... lit fragrance?"
"Yes. That’s what they call the scent of tuberose. The flower’s meaning is false pleasure—or was it dangerous pleasure? It’s been a while; I don’t remember well."
At Gong Isu’s offbeat words, Ga Pu briefly forgets the [Weaver of Dreams]’ influence and asks a question.
"Eh? Pleasure? Tuberose has that flower meaning?"
"Kim Sinhwa taught me a few years ago. Power to enhance spiritual ability. Confidence. Oneiric visions. Obsession. A fragrance for seducing others."
Gong Isu rises to his feet.
Ugh—like this, I can only see his chest. His shoulders are above the crown of Ga Pu’s head.
Kindly, Gong Isu bends at the waist to meet my—no, Ga Pu’s—eyes (not that it matters; it’s just helmet holes filled with empty darkness) and speaks.
"I wondered why he taught me such a thing—turns out it was for this. Kim Sinhwa, you watching this? You’re a real bastard."
