The Cost of a Grumble
In the library, the golden story quietly concluded, and we returned to the Sky Library. Tap—tap— The damp, dark sewers. The surroundings felt so desolate that it was hard to believe we had just been standing on a vast plain moments ago. Owl, who had reverted to his grotesque form, spun his head in circles and muttered, “Amazing. Truly amazing.”
“What is?”
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to work… Normally, after entering a golden story, you need a long rest. But when you do it, there’s no loss. You even collected all the rewards. It’s strange!”
That’s because you’re an idiot… I kept the thought to myself. Their way was to smash everything and scavenge the scraps left behind by their opponents to grow stronger. Rather than waste time criticizing Owl, I decided to focus on something else—time spent and profits gained.
“Let’s see… roughly two weeks?”
The previous stories hadn’t applied because I’d broken their structure, but originally each story had its own flow of time. For instance, I spent three weeks inside the golden stele, yet only two weeks had passed outside. The time ratio varied depending on how completely the story was finished. The known maximum reduction was fifty percent. Even though I hadn’t stayed fully immersed and had wandered around chasing profits, thirty-five percent had still been shaved off. Not bad.
Time wasn’t the only gain. The profits were substantial too. The Chimera crafters had fully adapted and were now performing procedures in earnest. Alchemy had taken root far better than expected and was establishing itself as one of Equator’s pillars. Equator’s development would accelerate even further.
“Anyway, let’s move again. I’d like to enter a black-grade story if possible. Do you know any locations?”
Spin spin. Spin spin.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
After a long moment of thought, Owl finally spoke. “I only know two black-grade stories. But Librarians are guaranteed to be there. I know more golden ones.”
I fell into brief contemplation. A black-grade story would be an excellent choice, but running into Librarians unnecessarily could be troublesome. Even if caught, Librarians gave no special rewards—just pure loss. It was best to avoid them if possible.
I’ve roughly decided on a direction… Before opening the Sky Gate, I want to fill Equator as much as I can.
Equator’s recent growth had been dazzling, yet more than half the island remained empty land. No matter how steadily immigrants arrived, the island wasn’t a small space. Above all, Equator’s growth was structured to generate automatic profit, so I had no desire to leave land vacant.
“Then how about a library where you expect a black-grade story to exist, even if you’re not certain? Are there none?”
Owl shot me a glare. “Librarians are already roaming around, and you want to head into a dangerous zone? Just go to a golden one…”
The way he spoke made it sound as though he knew of other black-grade stories. I decided to stoke his motivation a little.
“Don’t like the Sky Gate? Like you said, since Librarians are wandering around, we need to finish what we have to do quickly and leave. If we only do golden stories, who knows how long it’ll take to get out?”
“Ugh…”
“Guide me to a black-grade one. With golden stories we might need to do five more, but a black-grade one feels like it could be done in just one. How about it? Still hate the idea?”
Owl rolled his head. Most former users charged ahead without hesitation at the mention of the Sky Gate, so he couldn’t understand why I was hesitating. Finally reaching a conclusion, he opened his mouth.
“There’s something you have to promise.”
“What?”
“I know one more place with a black-grade story. But don’t touch anything else there.”
I tilted my head. Of course, if I could reach the black-grade story, I had no great desire for anything else. Yet his words only piqued my curiosity.
“What kind of place is it?”
“Answer first! Promise first!”
“Fine, fine. I got it. I promise not to touch anything else at the place you’re talking about.”
Having secured my promise, Owl turned his body. Then he opened a nearby manhole cover.
“Follow me. It’s a bit of a distance.”
We jumped into the secret passage of the sewers. After passing through the narrow black tunnel three times, a door leading to another library appeared. Owl glanced back once and warned me.
“This section is a place where you mustn’t speak. Don’t lose sight of me and follow quietly.”
Creak—
The space beyond the door was the Quiet Library. I gave Owl a short nod to show I understood its characteristics. Then I slowly closed the door we had just come through.
Whoosh—
At first glance, the space looked quite ordinary. The kind of library we all knew—shelves upon shelves filled with countless books in a vast interior. The difference was that every wall, floor, and ceiling was covered in warnings demanding silence. Pictures of a finger held to the lips, the word “Quiet” written in red. Even that was relatively polite and considerate. The real problem began the moment any sound was made.
Living things inevitably made noise when they moved. Footsteps, the rustle of clothing, the inhale and exhale of breath—essential sounds of life. The Quiet Library captured every single one. And it issued increasingly severe warnings to those who were loud. The finger-to-lips illustrations began chewing on their own fingers, and the red word “Quiet” gradually turned into thick, viscous paint, creating an eerie atmosphere. The warnings themselves grew more sinister as well.
[Do not make a sound]
[Noise will result in execution]
[Sound sound sound sound sound]
Beside them were detailed illustrations of the horrific ends suffered by those who had been punished. The fact that it still used text and pictures to warn meant we were still safe. After all, it was only a “warning” for now. Once the warnings ended and punishment began, this library would cease to be merely eerie and become genuinely dangerous.
Step—
After moving in silence for roughly thirty minutes, we reached a space occupied by “patrons.” Beings shaped like humans, crudely molded from red clay. They were often seen sitting at desks or chairs, reading books. Step— The patrons paid us no attention and continued their own tasks. That was the normal situation. But their most terrifying trait was that they immediately punished any noise.
Inside the Quiet Library, one patron finished reading and stood up, scraping the chair against the floor. Scraaaape— At the same instant, every patron nearby turned toward the source of the sound. Faceless red clay figures. They all rushed toward the offender at once.
[Sound sound sound sound sound]
The walls and ceiling filled with warning text, and the sinner entangled by the clay figures became a red sphere. Thus, the one who made noise was silenced. That was the penalty here. Those who made sound were made quiet.
Of course, a sufficiently grown user could drive the patrons away by force. But doing so would only create even louder noises. More patrons would gather, and eventually the administrators—not mere patrons—would have to intervene.
Well… it’s a simple library as long as you stay quiet.
And at that very moment, Owl made a sound.
Gurgle—
A natural noise born of hunger. Come to think of it, this guy had remained in doll form ever since entering the story and hadn’t eaten anything. Owl looked at me with wide, startled eyes.
No, you made the sound, so why are you looking at me?
It was absurd, but I decided to respond first. Seven or so patrons were already staring at us. This level of sound wasn’t loud enough to warrant punishment yet. But now that we had drawn attention, even the smallest noise would provoke a reaction from the patrons.
Still, there’s a way.
When you made noise in the library and drew others’ attention, what was the ideal solution? Simple. If someone else made an even louder sound, you would naturally be forgotten.
Let’s see…
I scanned the surroundings and picked a suitable target. A red clay figure sitting far away reading a book—the one who would take the punishment in our place. I secretly took out a single bullet and flicked it hard toward the chair the target was sitting on.
Ting—
The sound of metal striking metal. At the sudden unpleasant noise, countless patrons’ gazes snapped toward that direction. The problem was that far more of them reacted than I had expected. The sound of a chair being moved could happen in a library. But metal striking metal was clearly an intentional noise—one the patrons could not tolerate.
In an instant, an enormous number of clay figures began rushing toward the sacrifice. And the problem grew larger. So many patrons gathered into one mass that they knocked over nearby bookshelves.
Crash— Bang—
The additional noise drew even more patrons from somewhere, flooding in. I hurriedly pushed Owl’s back.
“Hurry up and go!”
Owl spoke in a low voice. “W-we can’t make noise.”
“With all that racket going on, do you think they’ll hear us talking? Just run. Before this whole area gets covered…!”
We sprinted. Behind us, due to the repeated noise, administrators appeared beyond the patrons and began suppressing the situation. The entire space warped red as it expelled all sources of noise.
BOOM BOOM— BOOM BOOM—
“Run faster!”
“Eeeek! Why me!”
“What nonsense! You’re the one who made the sound!”
The floor sank and chased after us. The administrators had identified us as the root cause of the noise.
“Just go into any door!”
“Th-there. There’s a door!”
We rushed through the door we found. We might get a little lost, but the Quiet Library was no longer quiet. Escaping to another space was the right move for now.
Click— Slam—
After crossing into the new space and closing the door, we sat in front of it and caught our breath. Running so suddenly had left us panting hard.
Huff— Huff—
Wait—something felt off. I shouldn’t have been this winded from just this much running.
Ah… this place.
Only then did I realize. The library we had entered was a freezer. A space where extremely low temperatures made breath visible.
Damn… Maybe the Quiet Library would have been better?
Hanging from the ceiling were chunks of meat strung up in clusters. They were the remains of living beings, slightly bloody but frozen solid and covered in white frost. They hung from hooks while retaining almost their original forms. You know that saying—old people are like encyclopedias? Here, countless encyclopedias hung from hooks.
“Hey, want to hear my story?”
One of the pieces of meat slowly turned and spoke to me. Its official name: the Noisy Freezer. This was a library where the dead who could not die sang of their stories before freezing over.