The Winner of the Banter

"Train."

"Ticket."

"Leopard."

"Criminal."

"Suicide."

I looked at Harin.

"Why does the word association always end with your side?"

"Isn't it reflecting the unconscious of oppa?"

"Let's say it again with bright words."

"Hope."

"Dead."

I seriously considered erasing my imaginary friend, but no matter how I thought about it, the one who loses is me.

As I said before, the deal doesn't hold.

Harin is my imaginary friend, so even if he disappears, it's not lonely, but I am the opposite.

Sighing, my hand naturally opened the gallery.

Writer: Sword Eternal Thousand Years

Today is the third day.

Is the sword crying?

Machine Ascension Failure: Condensation phenomenon.

Sword Eternal Thousand Years was ignorant but not rude.

"Impolite now is not Sword Eternal Thousand Years but oppa-"

Shh.

"Harin. You can't tease people with that."

Sword Eternal Thousand Years listened seriously even though he didn't fully understand the condensation phenomenon I explained.

At the end, he said he would teach the basic sword technique of his world as a sign of gratitude.

This time, Space Orphan asked the way.

Writer: Space Orphan

The real-time comments were fucked up. Fuck.

My current position is where stars three form a triangle, but the electromagnetic field made the route system broken.

Right? Left? Where should I go?

That... made sense.

I gathered the star constellation knowledge I knew and gave it to Space Orphan.

Eventually, I recommended right via isekai or something.

No reason.

For a while, solve the troubles of the commenters in the question tab.

"By the way, oppa. Didn't you say you were going to take a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠break and work?"

It seems I said that 30 minutes ago.

"...30 minutes only."

"That line was said 30 minutes ago too."

Was it?

After writing seven at once, my mind felt empty.

The trembling of the fingers stopped.

I checked the new notifications too.

Since the system came out, I know it's good.

But honestly, even seeing that, there's no big thrill for me.

Because my ability doesn't apply to me.

Just the emotional depth increased a bit.

By the way, should I start writing soon?

Since I wrote seven from the first day, the daily quota is already overflowing.

But the remaining manuscript is only two left.

If I write quickly, I can rest comfortably for the remaining week.

I raised my hand to start working again.

"Uuk-"

My stomach suddenly churned.

The 'what if I write two more even though there's seven days left until deadline' disease that writers often catch.

Somehow, that one week felt like it would never end.

Writing more here feels like stealing work from future me.

Writer.

What kind of creature is a writer.

A creature that is endlessly lazy, but sometimes endlessly diligent.

"So, what is oppa wanting to say."

"I decided to take a break."

"Why is that suddenly said in monologue?"

Harin sighed softly and pointed to the window floating in front of me.

"So, is that what you mean by saying you're resting now?"

"It's work, strictly speaking."

"What work?"

If I answer 'rest', it looks like I'm playing.

But I don't want it to look like that.

"...Planning?"

If I say this, it sounds like a necessary task.

When I opened the gallery window, there were notifications piled up in the anonymous account for a while.

Most were messages from Lonely Elf.

The beginning and end were the same.

If you look at the middle, it looks like a guardian, and if you read all, it looks like a loan shark.

"Were you worried a lot."

Harin read the message next to me.

"Next chapter worry, right."

"Oppa might be worried too."

"You didn't even sign a contract with me?"

"You don't know?"

"What?"

Harin didn't answer.

Sometimes he acts like he knows something only he does.

Because of the imaginary friend?

I wrote a reply.

As soon as I sent it, read receipt appeared.

My fingers stopped.

I know?

Probably told by the Keeper of the Hundred-Year Library.

When we talk, he said he came because of Lonely Elf's recommendation, so he can tell about the contract result.

By the way, the reply was too fast.

As expected, next chapter worry.

I smirked and wrote a reply.

After sending the reply, I left the chat window.

Now it was Canned Food's turn.

***

Anonymous

Canned Food

Two users unrelated to others.

To protect the writer's privacy, it should be like this in the future.

So.

I did deep thinking.

Canned Food said until recently that he had nothing to eat.

What if I say suddenly today it's okay?

Won't it look strange?

I need a suitable reason.

I think saying I succeeded in farming today would be good.

I haven't gone out yet.

Alibi is originally made before the incident happens.

"Isn't that fraud?"

"Identity split."

"What's the difference between the two?"

"The conscience of the speaker."

"Oppa doesn't have that."

Without answering, I posted the post.

Writer: Canned Food

Got a little food.

Won't starve to death for a while.

The comments came quickly.

My fingers stopped.

Actually, there was nothing acquired.

Because I didn't know how persistent it would be.

If I end it by saying I farmed with words here, the gallery will suspect me.

Just a few days ago, I was uploading photos of most of my daily routine to the gallery.

If I refuse here, it will become evidence of suspicion, not the desired alibi.

I couldn't upload even an empty water bottle.

I looked around the room to find something to put in the photo.

The pot on the floor caught my eye.

Miyoki.

It wasn't a farming harvest, but enough to turn the topic.

One person was enough to fish.

I took a photo of the pot placed in a sunny spot.

Miyoki had doubled in size compared to when I first found it, hanging limply on the water.

Small dots appeared on the part that looked like leaves.

Even without waves, it twitched on its own sometimes.

I picked up the pot and took the photo.

'...Is this a plant?'

I picked it up because it was on the air conditioner outdoor unit, thinking if I could eat it.

I looked down at the pot.

Miyoki was hanging limply on the water without moving.

The surface was calm too.

I enlarged the photo again.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A small wave started from the edge of the pot and spread towards Miyoki.

It was a wave generated from outside, not inside.

I read the last sentence again.

External vibration.

I put my palm on the floor.

Nothing felt.

Miyoki was still.

I was about to remove my hand, thinking it was unnecessary worry.

Drdrdr.

The sound of scraping concrete came from beyond the book covering the window.

A small wave spread on the pot's surface.

It was a familiar sound.

A mutated monster that had been waiting outside the window for three months.

With four abnormally thick arms, Palsigi.

It was called Palsigi because the sound wasn't great.

"Still not gone."

"Didn't the sound just now seem strange?"

"Was your stomach very hungry?"

"It wasn't the sound from below."

Drdrdr.

It was clearer than a moment ago.

This time, the wave of the pot was clearly visible.

I closed the gallery window.

I lowered my body next to the book and approached.

The window was blocked with books and tape.

There was a gap at the bottom where two fingers could barely fit.

I looked outside from there.

The spot where the guy was always crouching was visible.

It was empty.

On the floor, only traces left by scratching with nails remained.

Palsigi disappeared.

Drdrdr.

The sound came from the wall, not below.

I shifted my gaze a little.

A long arm was attached to the apartment's outer wall.

The fingers were gripping the window frame.

Soon, the second arm came up.

Palsigi hadn't left.

He couldn't endure the banter with me and finally moved.