Noise & Silence

The Merchant spoke as if forcing something up from the bottom of his throat.

"Y-you've got a sharp eye. Not easy to notice something like that in a place this dark."

His gaze sharpened as he fixed it on Hina. The words, delivered with a smile, were anything but praise.

Minel felt the sword in his hand vibrate faintly. At the same instant, a strange sound slammed against his ears.

It was not a sound that belonged to the real world. It was more like an auditory hallucination — something rising from behind the walls, from under the floor, from deep inside his own organs.

Then a pitch-black fluorescent light began to bloom gently from the gun. There was no other way to describe that contradictory color.

Seeing that as well, the Merchant gave in and held the gun out. Minel took it with his free left hand.

Same as the curved sword. He had never held it before, yet it settled into his grip as if it had been made for his hand alone.

The long barrel was forged of pitch-black iron, its surface layered with thin plates of metal like scales. It was not ordinary metal. It looked like darkness itself had coagulated into crystal, like blood gone solid. A pale curve formed the grip, and near the trigger sat an ornament shaped like a dark-crimson eye. The ornament trembled faintly at Minel's touch, as if it were alive. A peculiar pattern was etched along the barrel — a design that matched the one decorating the blade of the curved sword perfectly. Like twins. Or like a married pair.

"Look it over carefully. You may find it doesn't quite suit your—"

"I like it."

"……."

A reaction utterly unlike the long, tongue-drying sales pitch he had given for every other weapon. And given that the Merchant had been trying to keep him from buying it at all, there was nothing more to consider.

Minel snapped his middle finger. A clear metallic chime rang out. Blood crystals spilled from his inventory and poured onto the table, red crystals piling into a small mountain. Even so, the light in the Merchant's eyes did not brighten in the slightest.

"Hina."

"Yes?"

"The remaining four are yours."

Hina stared at Minel for a moment, then carefully brought her hands together. Surprise, relief, suspicion, and wariness all tangled in her eyes.

"You're really giving them to me?"

"You helped me get a good weapon."

Hina had proven her value. Going forward, keeping her around would bring more profit than loss. Now that he had a proper weapon, investing in Hina was the wise choice.

"Thank you."

Her face stayed expressionless as she accepted the four Blood Crystals, but she could not hide the joy that lit her pupils.

Minel looked at the Merchant.

"Bullets?"

"……."

"You said it was on the house."

The Merchant smiled, showing his teeth, though the corners of his mouth twitched oddly.

"That gun does not require bullets."

"Why not?"

"That is precisely what makes it remarkable. Instead, we will give you a scabbard and a holster. You will need them, without fail."

He rummaged in the back and produced a belt with scabbard and holster linked together. When Minel fastened it around his waist, it settled as if measured for him, and the gun and sword both slid home with perfect fit.

I have an inventory. Do I really need these?

Even the veteran who had seemed to have all the answers had carried a separate scabbard and holster. There had to be a reason.

The Merchant still looked profoundly reluctant. That was the strange part. If even an NPC Merchant could not let go of his attachment, wouldn't it make more sense to simply charge a higher price? There was something Minel did not know — some rule of the Backrooms, or something inherent to the weapons themselves.

"What can I buy with four Blood Crystals?"

The Merchant turned his head toward Hina. In the same soft, cozy tone as before — a tone that carried no emotion whatsoever — he began explaining his wares.

"We would recommend a variety of throwing weapons. All of them are single-use, but their power is a match for most proper arms."

Minel stepped back and waited for Hina. He had expected it to be over quickly, but she began grilling the Merchant on every detail, weighing her options with genuine seriousness.

"I'm going to take a look around. Just making sure it's safe."

"Ah, yes. All right."

Minel put a reasonable distance between them. After scanning the surroundings once more, he drew out the Backrooms Field Guide.

Shared consciousness? So that's why he called himself "we."

He wondered for a moment whether he had earned unnecessary ill will, but he had not actually attacked anyone, so it should be fine.

Minel closed the Backrooms Field Guide and rested his hand on the gun. In that instant, he noticed the text inside the book growing suddenly blurred.

"……."

Reflexively, he opened it again. He watched the writing snap back into place with perfect clarity. Real-time change — that was a first. The contents had been completely rewritten into something else entirely.

Minel read it through slowly.

Now that he had spent all his Blood Crystals, the special effects — exceptional durability and no need for bullets — were extremely welcome. But the part about level being set by the highest floor reached was harder to grasp.

The X next to Level — does it auto-adjust based on the highest floor reached? Is it a variable that changes constantly, so it can't show a number? And what does "level" even mean in the first place?

Then the Merchant's earlier words flashed through Minel's mind.

"Here." That word the Merchant used. He might not have meant this immediate area — he might have meant the 1st Floor.

If the weapons' level scaled with floor number, then selling them on a higher floor would make them higher-level — and far more expensive.

So that's why he was so reluctant. Selling them on the 1st Floor is the worst deal possible.

Only a guess, but among every hypothesis he could form, it was the most plausible.

Ever since entering the Backrooms, abnormally good luck had been stacking up without end.

What an absurd place. Even luck itself might be affected by skills or items.

Could it be the influence of the Backrooms Field Guide? Minel focused his thoughts on the book itself. Would the Field Guide tell him about the Field Guide?

Unfortunately, the text did not shift in the slightest.

If it worked that way, it would have shown up long ago.

Setting the disappointment aside, Minel returned the Backrooms Field Guide to his inventory. Now it was time to get used to the weapons.

He quietly closed his eyes and began reconstructing, one by one, the movements of the veteran he had watched before, settling into a stance. The world behind his eyelids sank into deep silence — a space of absolute nothing, where no sound existed at all.

An old scene slowly resurfaced in Minel's mind. In the heart of dense darkness, a single thread of blue light rose quietly, and what followed was mechanical motion — distilled by instinct, refined through endless repetition until it lived in the body itself.

Minel drew a deep breath, slowly spread his legs, and lowered his upper body. His right arm, gripping Silence, moved with deliberate slowness, tracking the faint afterimage of memory.

And then—

Shhhhk!

The instant Silence cut through empty air, it was not a sharp wind that struck his ears but a shattering crack, like ice breaking. Thin, transparent frost bloomed across the blade. As if rejecting the warmth of the world itself, the frost bled an aura that resembled quiet death. Cold spreading from the blade flowed along the floor and gradually crushed the air around him.

After that, snow began to fall from the path the sword had taken. Residual flurries conjured from empty space drifted down in silence — a landscape ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as if he had carved open the air and dragged winter out by force.

True to the name Silence: no movement, no breath, no cry. It was like a single frozen painting.

"So frost injection happens on its own…"

Shouting skill names like some manga protagonist was not his style. Having it trigger like a passive was a relief.

He quietly sheathed Silence. He wanted to fire Noise at least once as well, but given the name, the sound would probably be far too loud. He let it go.

Now that he had good weapons in hand and had swung them, he could see with perfect clarity what he needed next. No matter how outstanding a weapon, it was useless if the wielder could not use it properly. Martial arts, swordsmanship, marksmanship — whatever it was, he first had to learn a method that would let him fully exploit the weapons. Only then could he survive, or escape, or do anything at all before he turned into a monster.

Suddenly he felt a presence behind him. Without thinking, he drew Noise and leveled it like lightning.

"Hina?"

"……."

"Why are you just standing there? I almost shot you."

Minel quietly returned Noise to its holster. Hina still could not speak, staring at him with something like a dazed, entranced look. Then their eyes met, and she snapped back to herself. A strong suspicion rose in both of her eyes.

"Are you… really only on your first day?"

Minel walked slowly toward her. He had weapons now, and they had built a little trust. There was no need to stay as wary as before.

"Yeah."

"……."

"What did you buy?"

Hina wanted to dig deeper, but a man of so few words as Minel was never going to answer. Giving up on questions, she lifted the hem of her clothes and showed her waist. Five fist-sized round objects hung there.

"I bought five flame jars. Pull the wick and throw them, and they go boom. Like grenades."

"……."

"What?"

Not a gun or a blade — grenades. Minel said flatly:

"Put them in your inventory."

"Inventory? I can use that too?"

So she hadn't known. Thinking about it, the party that had treated her like a tool would hardly have bothered to explain.

"Yeah."

"How do you even know that? You're only on day one."

"……."

Minel spent a while wrestling with Hina, teaching her until she could use the inventory properly. At first she couldn't even manage the finger snap and struggled considerably, but with patient, steady instruction she became able ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to draw items far faster than fishing them off her belt.

"Thank you. Really."

Hina spoke with genuine feeling. Minel's attention, however, was elsewhere.

"Are there sword skills among the skills?"

"……."

"Or marksmanship, for example."

Hina thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"I don't really know either. Ah — my party members said there's a place somewhere in the Backrooms where you can learn techniques. I don't remember exactly, but…"

Learn techniques? Different from the vending machines, then.

"So those bastards know about it?"

Hina's expression stiffened slightly. Carefully, she asked:

"Don't tell me… you're going to go find them?"

That would be too much. Even with good weapons in hand, seven people was far too many. Without techniques, he would only flail around. But if he held position and waited, the situation was different.

"No need to go looking."

"Ah… because they'll come here to buy bullets? You're thinking of setting an ambush."

"……."

It was a dilemma. They had tried to kill Minel first, so as far as he was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠concerned, killing them in return was fair. But his father had once said something.

There were other reasons beyond his father's words. The man who used a gun had also said that killing indiscriminately turned you into a monster. Was ambushing people just for a single piece of information really the right call?

Then Hina spoke in a cold tone.

"The two who used guns deserve to die. They're the kind who torture people alive. But the other four aren't quite at that level. Trash, sure — but not kill-on-sight trash."

Minel considered it for a moment, then decided to accept the standard she had offered.

"All right."

He smiled faintly, and a peculiar ease settled into the expression. Of all Minel's suspicious qualities, that ease was the one Hina found most suspicious of all.

How can someone who's only been here a single day be this composed?

But it was also reassuring. Looking at him put her at ease. A strange feeling — constantly on edge, and yet deeply comfortable at the same time. Hina could not understand the emotion at all.