Rest Village Arrival and the Lonely Table
That's why everyone in the square was staring at me, huh. Heh. 'I didn't even finish saying goodbye to Dingdong.' The last image of Dingdong in my sight was just bouncing around happily, with no clue that I was about to vanish. I wondered if it could survive on its own without me. But before I could even mourn our sudden parting, the murmurs jolted me alert, and I scanned my surroundings.
The square was packed with people like me, and on the outskirts stood buildings in a medieval European style. I didn't need to check closely to know what state everyone was in—some gasping for breath, others dry-heaving on the ground, some covered in scrapes. There were even folks splattered in blood or with deep gashes on their thighs, blood pouring out.
'I just spent the time flirting with slimes.' Everyone else must have gone through some massive battle on 1F. Then, out of nowhere—clap clap—I turned toward the sound of applause, and to my shock, there was a man floating in the sky. That clap was probably him trying to get our attention. But was I the only one who noticed? Around me, people were just groaning in pain or already forming cliques and chattering away.
The man in the sky frowned, clearly annoyed that he hadn't drawn the focus he wanted as planned. I was just standing there, clueless about what to do, glancing around nervously—when clap clap, a much louder round of applause hit. It felt like the sound pierced straight into my skull. The noisy crowd went dead silent in an instant, all eyes on him.
"Hello, everyone. It seems this batch has several times more survivors than usual."
With a snap of Rigor's fingers, wounds across the crowd began healing before my eyes.
'I wasn't expecting it, but my gender didn't revert either.' Any hope that the gender swap counted as an "injury" and would fix itself went up in smoke. I focused intently on the administrator's explanation.
Sleep in the inn room named after you, meals provided daily at the cafeteria, locations of various facilities—the boring rundown continued. Then:
The people around me gawked at the status windows popping up in front of them.
'Status windows are a staple in tower-climbing stories, but they're acting like it's some big revelation. Guess they never touched subculture stuff.' A brief swell of pride for binge-watching tower novels while others studied English or Spanish. Matching the mood, I checked my own status window too.
The status window was unchanged from a month ago, except for the added Contribution Points.
'Just playing with Dingdong for a month got me four digits? Is Easy Mode that generous?'
"…."
After a brief silence, a burly guy hesitantly raised his hand.
"Uh…, Lego-r sir…."
"Ah! Sorry! Rigor sir!"
'He looks like he could star as a Crime City protagonist, but he's so timid.' Even accounting for my shrunken height, this guy was easily over 180cm, a towering hunk, yet fumbling awkwardly—it was frustrating to watch.
"Could I ask how to leave the tower? I have sick parents at home…."
I thought it was a curt answer, but after a pause, Rigor continued.
Smiling gently as he explained, Rigor's body had started turning translucent.
He bowed politely, adding a short, "May your choices not prove reckless," before vanishing.
The square grew chaotic the moment Rigor disappeared. Crowds weren't my scene anyway, and after a month alone, being around people felt even more awkward. Especially as the lone little girl in a square where 80% were guys—I was drawing stares left and right from folks too shy to approach but peeking anyway.
'Home first, think later.' Ignoring the hesitant gazes, I hurried toward the inn.
'I figured an inn room would be motel-sized, but this is surprisingly legit.' Opening the door labeled "Jeong Seha" revealed a cozy home welcoming me. I tossed my junky staff on the floor and beelined for the bed.
"Ahh~ This is paradise."
After a month sleeping on leaves and dirt, sinking into a real bed was pure bliss. While modern folks did dopamine detoxes by cutting social media, I'd survived without a smartphone or proper meals— this was inevitable. Closing my eyes on the bed, I pondered today's events, and a few questions arose.
Why had 1F cleared so suddenly? Why were others battered like they'd fought epic battles while I was fine? And finally, the meaning of 'Achievements: ⬛⬛'.
'Because I picked Easy Mode?' With zero info, mulling it over didn't help.
"Sigh, why's my fate full of worries?"
Getting up, I looked around the room—first thing catching my eye was the mirror.
'First time really checking my face, I think.' On 1F, living solo in the meadow, my only glimpses were blurry reflections in the lake. Aside from knowing my hair was long and sky-blue, I knew zilch about myself.
"Hoo…."
Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I finally faced the mirror.
The cuteness exceeded expectations—I forgot to breathe. "Cute" fit better than "pretty." My unkempt, unmanaged hair contrasted sharply with my plump, milky baby-soft skin, creating killer gap moe. My delicate features were as sharp as any child actor's—sharper, even.
"Mm-hmm, no wonder everyone stared. Heh heh."
Confirming I'd hit the facial jackpot, I couldn't stop smirking. Sure, this body killed my dream of "isekai reincarnation and harem kingdom," but with looks like these, it wasn't so bad.
"Grumble."
My stomach clock obliged perfectly. It was right around 6 PM—prime dinner time.
'Past me would've just woken up and boiled ramen by now.' With this fresh tower opportunity, I resolved to ditch the hikikomori life for something more upstanding and headed to the cafeteria.
'Emergency!' Arriving at the cafeteria, I faced a major crisis. As Rigor described, it was a buffet. My short arms couldn't reach the high shelves, but that was minor. The real issue? No seats.
The place held maybe 200, with about 90 people inside. Wait, that shouldn't be short on seats—so why the problem? Because most tables seated four. Some were full with early friend groups, but most were solos. Leaving just one empty table.
I scurried to claim it—only for someone else to snag it first.
'That was my spot.' I'd sworn to change my hikikomori ways post-tower, but talking to strangers was still tough. In a game, "Seat?" would've fixed it in three letters! Now here I was, plate full but nowhere to sit, all because of this tragic backstory.
'High school lunch was better.' Back then, teachers enforced anti-bullying seats by arrival order. No solo awkwardness—everyone lined up military-style. I, the beneficiary, had no complaints. Of course.
Killing time by fetching water or wandering until a table freed up— that's when:
"Oh no!"
I'd made a huge mistake.