79. A Human-Style Joke! Taxi Drop-Off
A dwarf kneeling outside the taxi, and Agent Teliman, his face swollen beyond recognition with no sign of waking. "Didn't hit him too hard, did you?" I ask with a shrug, and Deokgu snorts, clenching his fist.
"If I had my way, I'd beat him even more, but I'm holding back."
"I get it." I understand, knowing the stories about the devil and Deokgu. "Well, we've got this one too." I look down at the dwarf and warn him. "On your knees."
"I-I'm already kneeling."
"Sorry. You're so short normally, I thought you were standing."
I drop in some species discrimination for good measure. Having a gun barrel pressed to his forehead doesn't exactly inspire eloquent words from him.
"So, what's the reason your organization wants a layer war?"
"......I c-can't say."
"Come on, don't be stubborn. You're done for anyway."
"......"
His thick lips are sealed tight as a clam. Maybe I should've woken Agent Teliman instead. Dwarves are called stubborn for a reason—once they set their minds, it's like trying to open a treasure chest.
"Sh-should I...... do it?" Beloah timidly raises her hand. It's less about wanting to help and more exhaustion from wanting this over quickly.
"Pardon? You gonna torture him or something?"
"N-no...... not that."
With a shy gesture, a wave of golden light flows from her sleeve again. It slips into the dwarf's ears and nose—
"Gahk?! Cough!?"
As his pupils roll back, leaving only the whites, the mana drains out entirely.
[Delk Bransil]
"Here."
A single book materializes. The title [Delk Bransil] is probably his name.
"There's magic like this too?"
"N-not just anyone...... Only for those the library deems a threat......"
She trails off, clearly signaling she doesn't want to say more. A threat to the library means a threat to her—they're one and the same.
Flip.
The pages of his life story turn. Delk Bransil was originally a mine excavator. A family man with a wife and daughter, living diligently despite breathing coal smoke daily. Then tragedy struck: a chronic illness.
He was in the abandoned mine, desperate to save his daughter and wife. Cyber City's hospitals were the best in the entire Tower. But the Tower refused. Unknown illnesses posed a contagion risk—that was their cold response.
"Skip ahead."
Life's like that. Who doesn't have a backstory? Plenty lose what's dear and harbor hatred for the Tower. But not all become terrorists. Your own tragedy doesn't justify dragging others into theirs.
An unnamed group approached Delk Bransil. Revenge, pleasure, hope, boredom—different emotions and motives, but one clear goal: layer war. A desire to shatter the Tower's peace.
The orders came from someone who never showed their face. A man's voice, overwhelming capital, an ocean of information. That's all the war-mongers knew of their shadowy backer.
Thud! I close the book, and it dissolves into mana, returning to Delk.
"Looks like Ye-na's guess was right."
No one has seen the real figure. Just orders, excessive money, and intel.
'Axis, probably.'
Knowing I'm from the 7th Floor was the clincher. That's high-level info only top brass would have.
The question remains: why crave a layer war?
'What the hell for?'
Axis's motives are still a question mark, but our task is clear.
"Let's go to Arachino."
We have to stop Yeoeumhoe from being used as war tools like me.
* * *
Arachino's hut wasn't far, so we arrived quickly. Yu Ye-na would handle transporting the two tied-up guys to the Tower Management Bureau.
"That's where Arachino lives."
A small hut visible in the distance. Even as Yeoeumhoe's leader, Arachino hadn't built a temple or sought worship. If anything, he hid himself even more, fearing impure motives.
"......So, gonna get down now?"
"Ah, n-no."
Beloah, who'd whined she couldn't walk anymore, clings to my neck, arms wrapped tight.
"Human warmth...... feels like this, huh."
She murmurs things like that occasionally, making it hard to just drop her. The poignant mood makes me awkwardly address Deokgu.
"Deokgu, you working out these days? Looks like you've slimmed down a bit."
His bulk is still there, but it seems to be shrinking bit by bit. Jawline sharper, maybe.
Deokgu sighs, patting his belly disapprovingly. "Maria nags me to exercise nonstop. Sigh, wanna head back to the 3rd Floor already."
"Ah......"
Whipped, huh. Age gap's huge, but if Maria likes it, whatever. Plus, no more of his signature "Kuheup!" grunts since he started working out.
"Got a backlog of daily quests, subscription still running. Wanna get back and game."
"What games?"
"A bunch. Last Fantasy, Famous Souls, E-Morusion—"
"Last Fantasy tanked after that gacha rigging scandal."
"......I dumped ten million won into that. Don't lie."
"Stock just plummeted."
"Kuheup?!"
We chat as we reach the hut. Beloah finally slides off me, catches her breath, and knocks.
Knock knock.
"Arachino...... it's me, Beloah."
No signs of life around the hut—no human scent, just a chill in the air.
Creeeak.
So the door opening surprises me a bit. I'd half-expected no one home.
"B-Be-Beloah?"
"Arachino? What's wrong with your face?"
His hair sticks up like straw, eyes bulging like they might pop out. Skin clinging to bones—an unsettling sight, way worse than on the live feed.
"Wh-wh-what's going on?"
His eyes dart frantically between us three, teeth chattering enough to unsettle anyone.
I gently pull Beloah's shoulder back and step forward. "Mr. Arachino, I'm Kim Juseon from the Tower Management Bureau. Mind cooperating for a bit?"
"T-T-Tower Management Bureau?"
Not originally, but it fits now. Thanks to Beloah, he doesn't refuse and hears us out: the faction using Yeoeumhoe, what we encountered en route, the radio's authenticity.
"So I'd like to use the radio myself."
"Y-you already th-think it's f-f-fake, right?"
Arachino glances at the radio on the table as he replies. I affirm honestly.
"Yes. I'm convinced, but that's separate from what you believe."
"......"
He pulls out a cherished item from his robes: a golden badge. All eyes fix on it.
"If the radio's real...... I could hear my friends' voices through this badge."
"Fr-fr-friends?"
"Pitiful friends swept up by some tyrannical monster, eyes closed too soon."
"......"
"If their voices really come through here, I'll lead the charge into the Abyss myself."
Calm, but sincere. I've got that resolve.
Silence falls, icy cold, but before the chill sinks in—
"It's f-f-fake. Y-you're r-right."
Arachino confesses, clutching his face.
"Pardon?"
"It's f-f-fake. I-I only r-realized r-recently."
Unexpected confession. But his robed legs tremble like an engine.
"The r-r-radio spoke to me. S-said it was all f-f-fake. B-but I c-couldn't let go—c-couldn't!"
He looks rough.
"What did the radio say?"
"Wh-wh-what's the pr-problem?"
Arachino's breathing roughens. He clutches his chest, but his eyes twitch toward the radio like in a seizure.
"People c-comforted. Th-those shedding tears. F-finding what to say to the d-dead—c-clearing guilt and dust from their hearts."
"P-penitent ones, regretful ones. R-repenting—! M-moving forward from stalled pasts—!"
"Mr. Arachino, calm down a sec......"
I try to stop him, but he bolts up, yelling on.
His eyes lock solely on me now. Tics stop; mad conviction fills the void.
His tongue spills words steadily. "A son rotting away ten years clutching his lonely-death mother's keepsake rose again at her voice from the radio! To fulfill his duty!"
"A woman who couldn't forgive her hated father her whole life, heart aching, still moved to save him at his suffering voice—forgiving!"
"Should their reclaimed lives be dismissed over mere authenticity?!"
He pants heavily, staring me down. Tics gone, fervent belief surges.
"They're dead, so forget, move on! Do you know how slowly that irresponsible 'truth' has killed people?! I-I sold people tomorrow! Even if it's fake from 6th Floor scrap—!"
People found hope through me.
"The dead's voices on the radio are fake! But the comfort they got was real—! The courage and drive they gained was real!"
"So you'll start a war?"
Arachino nods vigorously.
"The radio said demons are ready to ascend anytime—! Then we strike first! Even if fake, people need hate targets! Better to rage with spears than drown in sorrow and suicide—more alive, right?!"
Beloah's words make sense now. He's good, but off somehow. Shabby hut, dusty furniture, gaunt frame, utter solitude.
Running Yeoeumhoe, he takes no gains. His principles are like rags: stubborn, shabby, inconsistent, yet patched with grand ideals and goodwill.
Grip! His bony fingers seize my shoulder.
"Is this wrong? Saving lives a sin?! Even lies—if they live—!"
"......"
"You must have it too! Times mourning lost loved ones! Moments craving the dead's voice just once—!"
Creeak.
The hut floor groans. Deokgu flinches, stepping back.
Lost loved ones, times of grief. He's the one most shaken by Arachino's words.
"Truth more important? Or—! Or life?!"
Tears, pleas. Grotesque goodwill weaves the ragged grand cause—
"Truth matters more."
The quiet woman who'd worried for Arachino speaks.
Flutter!
Ancient tome opens; pages flip relentlessly. Winds batter the hut; Beloah's eyes sharpen unlike before.
"False knowledge. Deceptive comfort from it. Arachino, warning you. End it here."
Knowing the radio's lie and continuing—that was Beloah's line in the sand.
Arachino reaches for his staff, intoning. "Truth-seeker...... You've always been that way, Beloah. Since Abyss Research Club days—no matter how cruel, if true—you deemed it right."
Violet mana surges from him.
"But don't cloak it as goodwill, Beloah. Yours isn't good vs. evil—"
Simply.
"You just can't accept improper knowledge."
Tension peaks. Mages clashing would wreck the area. My eyes meet Deokgu's. This turf's ours, not mages'. Step in now, suppress without big fight—
Static crackle!
Noise from the silent radio.
- Friends are coming.
A clear mechanical tone leaks from the radio. The voice, somewhat feminine, chills without warmth.
- Arachino. My friend. You've done well.
"Friends?" I mutter puzzled, and the radio replies as if hearing.
- Curious? Shall I spoil a little?
- They came looking.
- To kill you.
- Countdown.
- 5.
- 4.
Windows shatter instantly; Cyber City pump-bombs flood in from all sides.
- Just counting.
- Human-style joke, right?
- Haha.
- Haha.
- Haha.
BOOM!