As a Follower of the Observer, I Ask: Are You Sir Tantun?
I couldn't hide my bewilderment at the old man suddenly mentioning my name. Sure, I'd passed by and caught a glimpse of his face before, but I'd never actually spoken to him. How the hell did he know my name?
"…How do you know my name?"
"The Observer knows all things. And thus, as one who devoutly believes in the Observer, I too know all through Her teachings."
Instead of telling me how he knew, the guy was preaching his cult even in a situation like this? It made no sense no matter how I sliced it, so I glanced at the Branch Manager. He let out a sigh and said,
"He's been calling your name nonstop ever since you got here."
...I had no clue what was going on. No matter how much I racked my brain, there shouldn't have been any way my name leaked out to random civilians... Well, actually, there was that one time.
When I'd botched the Party Flute and accidentally summoned Bell right into the Hearth, blocking for her and somehow getting twisted into the hero of Rondan. Yeah, that could've spread my name around enough.
The secret to a successful cult: master gaslighting. They throw weak-minded folks off balance like this, and boom—cult boomtown. Almost got hooked there myself. The Observer my ass.
"If your all-knowing Observer didn't bother telling you how to escape from knights, huh?"
"She said you were destined to come here to meet me. This is all fate!"
Fate my foot—he was just whining to see me. The more I listened, the more ridiculous this old coot got.
"Anyway, time's short. You need to hurry to the 'Underground Stairs' at Rondan's entrance and take out the heretics!"
Underground Stairs? Heretics? As far as I knew, the only stairs leading underground in Rondan were the ones behind Simtol's forge and the ones to the Underground Prison. Just those two. And heretics? I looked to the Branch Manager, but even he shook his head with a grumpy expression—he'd never heard this either.
Case closed, then.
"I've never heard any of this. Just dismiss it as cult nonsense, right?"
"I called you just in case... Sorry for wasting your time."
"No worries. Life's all about watching out for 'just in case,' so your judgment's spot on, sir."
Even though it was just polite flattery, the Branch Manager gave me a faintly impressed look. Seriously, in this harsh place where survival's a grind, how do these people stay so sentimental?
Anyway, I saluted the Branch Manager and turned to leave.
"W-wait a moment, Sir Tantun!"
Man, persistent. His hands were even shaking—full-blown cult addiction, looked like.
"Hear me out! It's urgent! If those heretics go wild, it'll be unstoppable...!"
After spilling his trembling plea, the old man just shuddered, muttering "No, no!" over and over. What kind of dream did this guy have to push him to such extremes?
I tried ignoring him and walking out, but he was being way too loud for that. If I left him like this, the branch would be noisy all day. I was sure of it.
"Enough already. There are no stairs leading underground near Rondan's entrance."
"B-but the Observer...!"
"Then prove it."
The Branch Manager tried soothing him, but he wouldn't calm down. If words wouldn't work, let him prove it to us himself. That's what I suggested.
"Tantun? What are you...?"
"If even one thing you say happens, I'll believe you and go check it out myself. Deal?"
He claimed to have gotten a prophecy straight from this 'Observer' god of his. Promise to listen if it comes true, and most folks would back off. Even if he swore it was real, if it didn't happen, it's a lie. Either way, advantage me—I made the offer first.
"A-alright! I'll ask the Observer right now."
With that, the old man closed his eyes, raised his hands high, and struck a prayer pose. In a normal modern world, each move would've felt dignified, almost sacred—precise and intense. But since I already figured it was bullshit, it just looked lame. If he were that important, the community forums would've mentioned him.
"...Soon, a major incident will occur near Rondan's walls. But despite the danger, not a single death will come of it."
"How soon?"
"...Tomorrow."
Maybe because I'd humored him this far, he went quiet after that, heading to his sleeping bag and lying down. With a smug, convinced look on his face, no less. From his perspective, we'd have no choice but to heed him now.
"...World's full of weirdos."
"Life's tough, so people cling to extremes when there's nothing else. Don't scorn it—pity them instead."
It was getting dark, so I put off the library trip till tomorrow and turned in. And the next day...
A massive explosion rocked Rondan's walls.
"See? Now do you believe? The Observer's words are absolute!"
...The wall, chilled and frosted where the Hearth's heat didn't reach, had suddenly expanded and shattered when someone splashed hot water on it. It was just a partial collapse—no full breach—but the blast rocked the whole village.
Luckily, though? The debris all missed buildings, landing in the streets. Injuries, sure, but no deaths. Repairs wrapped up quick too—no freeze-outs. Exactly as the old man said.
"How did this...?"
Even the Branch Manager, who'd never seen it coming, stood there slack-jawed since morning. Too spot-on for coincidence.
...Honestly, I—the guy who'd made the offer—was the most shocked. No way I'd dreamed my sarcastic "eat shit" bet would actually pan out.
While we stewed in awkwardness, the old man clung to the bars, grinning ear to ear.
"Well, Sir Tantun? Ready to listen now?"
"...A promise is a promise."
"Wise choice! Ahh, Observer, this old man has faithfully carried out Your will today..."
...If he was really hearing this 'Observer's' voice and acting on it... In a dark fantasy cult, you'd expect bonfires and gibberish chants, or praying to some "vessel of the god" relic. Someone hearing the voice directly? High up the chain, obviously.
Seeing him tear up with joy kinda pissed me off a bit. But backing out now would look bad. Just go prove there's nothing there, right? Get it over with solo and done.
...Or so I thought.
"You're going alone to somewhere that dangerous, Mr. Tantun? No way!"
"You're my disciple—my subordinate first and foremost. I'm your superior, so why go off solo without a word?"
I was plotting alone when the Branch Manager blabbed to knight HQ—cue Mu Yeon and White Mask tagging along. No need to escalate like this!
Seeing my pissed-off face, White Mask snorted.
"If you hate it that much, you should've taken the Mystic Pavilion offer from the Vice Captain. No one but the Princess could've bossed you around then."
Quit needling me like that. My head's already a mess.
...Fine, whatever. No way it'd actually happen, but if those stairs exist and heretics lurk below, better with White Mask and Mu Yeon. Pure muscle won't cut it against weirdos, and Party Flute risks flipping Rondan out over "Outer God activity" again.
Screw it. Annoyed—let's scout the entrance quick and crash more.
We reached Rondan's gate. Guards approached thinking we were heading out, but I waved them off.
"Just investigating around here."
The gatekeepers nodded at White Mask's words and went back to post. Sigh. What even are we doing? This whole thing felt mortifying.
"I'll check here."
"I'll scope the gate area."
White Mask and Mu Yeon split up to search. Last spot left: mine.
But the terrain was dead flat—dig stairs here and it'd scream "Look at me!"
"Why'd I even suggest that... Sigh."
Best call in the moment, but it's backfiring hard. With a heavy heart, I crouched to scan the ground.
Huh?
Not far off, a massive boulder sat unnaturally placed. Up against the wall, you'd call it bad placement—but it was spaced out midway. Easy to miss at a glance, but scrutinizing like I was? Super suspicious.
"Nah, no way. Pfft."
Chuckling to myself, I shoved the rock.
Rumble rumble rumble!
...
"Subordinate, find someth—oh ho."
White Mask gawked at the sight, impressed.
"Sharp thinking this time. Who'd suspect moving that?"
"Whoa... Looks ancient. If it's been here forever, no one'd question it, right?"
"I've said it before, but your pivots are quick."
Why the praise?
...Because real Underground Stairs led down below.
Why the hell were they real?