Chapter 11
Chapter 11
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Method to Turn Back Time
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Those who haven't received permission from the Tower can't even enter it.
It's like a mirage—the closer you get, the farther it slips away. It's right there, plain as day, yet forever out of reach. And yet, it keeps catching your eye.
Physical distance meant nothing to the Tower.
If anything, it was akin to the Bookworms. Closer to a mental realm. The very thought of entering or exiting grants you passage.
There isn't even an entrance to begin with. No physical access possible.
Players granted the right to climb can enter at will, but NPCs require explicit permission.
That doesn't mean NPCs can enter the same spaces as Players, though.
They get shunted to an "office" rather than the "floors" Players tackle.
The Tower's interior isn't simple.
It's not structured with one space or dimension per floor.
It's not neatly organized like that.
It's a tangled mess, like ragged rags knotted together haphazardly.
Sloppy and half-baked, as if it wasn't even properly designed.
Not flat layers stacked neatly, but a complex, intertwined jumble.
The "floors" only Players can access are strictly separated from the "rooms" only NPCs can enter.
"Rooms" can influence "floors," but "floors" can't affect "rooms."
You can't lower the difficulty on your own or buff Players without conditions.
You can design trials within set difficulties. Raise them, sure—but never lower them.
Trials, by definition, can't be easy.
With conditions in place, you can strengthen Players.
Via sponsorships, where the sponsor bears the cost. Or quests, sharing the burden with the Player.
But the current Tower manager's an old-timer who hates that sort of thing.
She balks at meddling with even the smallest details. Despises change.
"Power must be earned on one's own," or so she claims. Insists there's value in overcoming trials through self-reliance.
Proven wrong in the end, of course.
The trials were too vast for anyone to brute-force alone.
Though maybe there's more to it.
"That's why she regrets it. Why was she so cocksure back then?"
The 'Tower' said this as she gazed up at the empty sky.
Despite being inside the Tower, an endlessly vast heaven stretched out above.
Beneath that sky lay ruins so crumbled they were barely recognizable.
What must have once been white was now cloaked in lonely gray dust.
Shattered statues and scattered remnants whispered of this place's original purpose: a temple.
"At first, her vaunted confidence made her stubborn. Midway, she knew it was wrong but clung to pointless pride. By the time she wanted to fix it all... too late."
Each frosty breath she exhaled seemed to embody her regret.
"Or maybe it was just longing for someone. Afraid touching what he left behind would scatter those wistful memories. Why am I such a fool? Why so pathetic?"
Like the ruins she sat upon, her heart seemed half-collapsed already.
"Sorry. You didn't come here for this."
"No, it's fine. That's exactly why I came."
"...You have peculiar tastes."
She flailed her arms in flustered embarrassment. That wasn't what she meant.
The 'Tower' shot her a playful sidelong glance with a mischievous smile.
Only then did I catch on to the teasing.
She knew how to joke around, huh. It hit me anew that she was human, too.
"So, what's the real reason you came to see me?"
"Just wanted to talk. Got a lot of questions."
"Why not come sooner? I was always ready to answer."
"Haha."
I let out an awkward laugh, dodging the reply.
Truth was, I'd resented the 'Tower' plenty.
Resented her for tossing me into this strange world without warning. Couldn't like a Tower that killed countless Players.
Couldn't grasp the point of a climb with no clear purpose.
Simple amusement? Some noble goal?
Questions arose, but I shoved them aside.
I just needed someone to blame, maybe.
Resentment felt lighter than sorrow.
Pain aimed outward hurt less than inward grief.
Resentment scorched everything dry, unlike the heavy dampness of rising grief.
I avoided those answers.
Now, I want them.
"Start with what the Tower is."
"From the top, huh?"
"The Tower is a sword piercing the heart of a god."
"Huh?"
The story took an extraordinary turn right from the start.
She continued matter-of-factly, as if stating plain facts.
"The Tower is bathed in divine blood, granting it transcendent authority. A fragment of a god holds immense power."
She leaned her head against a pillar, hand to her forehead.
Her impassive gaze turned to the moon hanging in the night sky.
"That's what we are. Born from slaying our parent."
I looked at her with concern, but she brushed it off.
"Don't worry. I know how I was made, the intent behind it. I understand myself perfectly."
She spoke stiffly on purpose, but a faint tremor betrayed her.
No need to pry into what she's hiding.
Pretending not to notice, I pressed on.
"Who’s this god? Game developer? An actual deity?"
"Both. One and the same."
I'd half-expected as much.
We were using the game's systems wholesale.
Still astonishing. A game made by a god.
"Why the game format? Could've been novels, dramas, anime—plenty of options."
"Easiest to integrate. Familiar for people, too."
"I see."
"We always pursue fairness. Games fit perfectly."
I tilted my head, not quite following.
She elaborated on my reaction.
"Game systems are intuitive. A trial, then rewards upon completion."
True enough. Growth is visible, objective. Suits the Tower well in every way.
"Rankings made it simple, too. Rewards by rank order."
"So invitations followed game rankings?"
"Yes. That's why you entered first."
Top rank got me in quickest?
"Is that fair, though?"
"Perfectly. Rewards match time and effort invested."
"Never thought 'effort' and 'investment' would get such lofty treatment in a game."
"Luck's a factor, too."
"People who never played aren't even invited."
"We sent invitations. Anyone who's downloaded or run the game once gets called to the Tower."
"That's a huge luck factor."
"Luck is essential."
Hmm, fair enough, for now.
"The Tower's purpose was to create a god?"
"Right. Built to forge a new god to succeed the dead one. Climbing is the path to divinity. Know the Tower of Babel?"
I do.
Ancient humans built it to challenge the gods.
So threatening was that sky-piercing edifice that God scattered humanity's tongues and races, sowing discord.
Hence Babel—to confound, to mix up.
"You know it well. That's our inspiration."
No wonder the climb carried such weight. It all made sense now.
Finally clicking into place.
But why Korea, of all places?
"Out of all those countries, why Korea?"
"Simple mistake."
"Mistake?"
"Meant to build next door, bigger population. But I sneezed right then."
"For something that important?"
A hollow laugh escaped me.
The more I learned, the sloppier it seemed. A miracle it's lasted this long.
"Not you, right?"
"..."
She averted her eyes slyly.
"Not that scatterbrain Sun, but you?"
"Yeah."
Her sudden casual tone made me look up. Everything had changed.
The scenery around, the woman before me.
Gone was the woman shrouded in white light. In her place stood one with red hair tied back, grinning boldly.
Black t-shirt, easygoing smile.
Different in so many ways, but still the 'Tower'.
No white temple—just barren desert sands.
No dark night sky—blazing sun overhead.
"She's got this unexpectedly klutzy side."
"Unbelievable. All because of a mistake?"
"Like I keep saying, luck matters."
She muttered it roguishly.
Then slung an arm over my shoulder.
"So why the sudden curiosity? Didn't hate our guts?"
"I did."
"Still?"
"...Not anymore."
Time faded the hatred. Understanding them helped.
And understanding kills hate.
"Phew, good. Thought you still did."
She laughed heartily, slapping my back with gusto.
"Ow! Gonna start hating you again."
"This little? Build some muscle, not just brains."
"You're the weird one."
I grumbled back at her.
This is why I avoided her.
Our personalities clash. She barrels in without a care; hard to push back.
"Isn't it too early for you to be out?"
"What? Came at this hour to dodge me on purpose?"
"..."
"You little."
She locked me in a headlock.
"Gahk."
"Got a favor to ask, actually."
"What favor?"
"You're turning back time, right? That's why you're here."
This is why I hate it.
Acts thoughtless, but pierces sharper than anyone.
"Turning back time will take a lot."
"And?"
"Use me as the sacrifice. Solves a ton. Perfect counterweight for the scales."
"Moon agreed?"
"No, first time we've clashed. But no matter how I think it over, I'm useless to this Tower."
What to say?
Comforting people is too hard.
Emotions are too varied; tough to navigate.
"I've mulled it over for ages. Please, use me as the offering?"
Please.
Her final plea echoed in my ears.
But I can't grant it.
The price was paid long ago.
Didn't understand then, but her words today make it ring true.
Why she granted me such immense authority.
I held back the refusal before her resolute, lip-biting expression.
Wanted to hear her out. Why she'd reached that conclusion.
Won't deny a petty urge to tease her back. Small revenge, if anything.