Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Used Bookstore's NPC
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The clinking sounds filled the room packed with books.
Even though she had no idea how to brew coffee, the equipment she kept on hand offered a pleasing visual all the same.
The bubbling of boiling water mingled with the sweet yet bitter aroma of coffee, creating a calm but weighty atmosphere.
Books were visible no matter where she turned her head, exuding a strange sense of intimidation.
What was the reason for gathering so many books?
Ber sat still, waiting to hear the answer.
At the end of that wait, a cup of steaming coffee was placed on the table.
The coffee slid down her throat, spreading subtly and clearing her mind.
"What do you think Skill Books are made of?"
Liv took a sip of her coffee and asked.
What should she say in response? It was a topic Ber had never really considered, so no easy answer came to mind.
"Like ordinary books?"
"Probably not. The people who make Skill Books are called creators, not authors."
Liv gave a faint smile at Ber's words. There seemed to be a subtle bitterness lingering at the edges of that smile.
Was it the aftertaste of the coffee's bitterness? Or was there another reason?
Liv rarely ever opened up about what was truly on her mind.
Even if they wanted to chat over drinks, she passed out after just one glass, making that impossible too.
So this was likely the only chance to glimpse what Liv was really feeling.
As her friend, Ber wanted to understand the worries this girl carried.
"You're right. Skill Books aren't written like ordinary books."
Unlike her usual self, Liv began her explanation with a completely serious expression, devoid of any playfulness.
"But first, what are skills?"
"Skills?"
Once again, it was a subject Ber had never seriously pondered.
As someone who wasn't a Player, Ber had no reason to take an interest in skills she couldn't even acquire.
She did have skills of her own, but without a status window, there was no way to check them.
They were things she'd naturally picked up through life, so "skill" didn't quite fit—some other term felt more appropriate.
Though Ber had no idea what that term might be.
She was an expert on skill grades. After all, she sourced Skill Books from artisans within the Tower and sold them to Players, so she had full confidence when it came to assigning grades.
Prices varied wildly depending on the grade, so thoroughness was essential.
But she'd never delved deeply into the nature of skills themselves.
I'm a merchant who sells goods. Not a creator crafting skills, nor a consumer wielding them firsthand.
There had simply been no need.
"You're an expert on grades."
"I asked about the definition of skills."
"Aren't they functions that help in battle?"
"That's part of it. And most people do think of them that way."
Liv looked like she had so much to say.
So much, in fact, that it all tangled in her throat, nothing able to spill out.
Their time in the Tower was worlds apart. Liv had existed here long before Ber arrived.
An unimaginably long stretch of years.
Emotions piled up over those years lay thick and deep, too dense to peer into.
Why do people open up their hearts?
It came down to capacity limits. The heart that holds emotions has finite space—it can't contain so much forever.
That's why it needs periodic release.
But Ber had never once seen Liv do that.
If anything, she seemed expert at keeping it all locked away, hiding behind nothing but a playful smile.
So rather than press Liv, Ber opted to wait patiently.
Compared to all the time she'd waited so far, this was nothing.
"Translating 'skill' literally gives you 'technique.'"
For words pondered so long, they held little substance.
Even so, Ber nodded and waited for what came next.
Ber always brimmed with composure. That composure was what made her seem so mature.
Long life doesn't guarantee wisdom. Time means accumulated experience, but how deeply it's internalized varies from person to person.
In that sense, "adult" fit Ber better than anyone.
She never rushed others, always waiting with leisurely patience.
Even her anger came as silent pressure—chilling in a way no outburst ever could be.
"I don't think any word captures 'skill' as well as 'technique.'"
It was a literal translation, but true nonetheless.
"Skills don't exist solely for combat. There are skills for cooking, crafting, cleaning—countless varieties across every field."
Most had no relation to battle, so they weren't very popular.
They didn't enable the impossible; they simply refined what you could already do.
Nice to have, but hardly worth spending money on.
"A grade ultimately measures a skill's value. Skills no one wants don't even receive one."
What happened to ungraded skills?
They simply vanished. Never passed on as Skill Books, slowly forgotten by all—pitifully so.
"You probably can't understand why I get so emotional over mere skills."
Ber showed no particular reaction, merely leaning forward with evident curiosity.
With that gesture, she silently conveyed she was ready to listen.
"Did you know? Those who die inside the Tower leave nothing behind."
Literally nothing—no traces whatsoever. They simply ceased to exist.
Not even their gear, clothes, shoes, or bodies remained.
There were no graves in the Tower not because death had become routine, but because there were no corpses to bury.
So how did word of a Player's death spread?
For rankers, their names vanished from the rankings. All records erased entirely.
For others, their names disappeared from friends lists.
If they'd never connected with anyone, no one even knew they'd existed.
"Memories without form fade so easily. And with even their records gone, remembering them grows even harder."
It was a cruel tale—for the dead and the living alike.
Even if you tried to cling to the memories, they faded into bland recollections.
And once they became mere memories, time whittled them away until nothing remained.
"How are the survivors supposed to remember them? When I'm the only one left who knows them—and if even I forget, there's no one else."
Their faces had grown hazy. Their voices, manner of speech, the things they'd said—all wavered like distant mirages, impossible to grasp.
Yet the emotions lingered, tormenting her. Relentless waves of emptiness, hollowness, helplessness.
She took a sip of coffee to wet her throat.
Her mouth tasted bitter. The coffee's doing? Or something else?
And yet it was sweet. The relief of unloading it all on someone—the catharsis—was intoxicatingly sweet.
"Everyone has their own techniques, whether they like it or not."
Even the most overlooked people have things worth calling techniques.
"They're just trivial and small compared to others'."
In the end, everyone possessed techniques worthy of becoming skills.
"That's why we say Skill Books are 'crafted,' not 'written.' Even though the name screams 'book' right there."
Why was that?
Ber's expression shifted to one of realization.
Despite knowing her for so long, Ber had never shown such a dramatic change before.
It was satisfying enough to bring a smile.
"Techniques of high completion get incorporated into the Tower's system as skills. Then the Tower crafts Skill Books to pass them on to others."
Sometimes the person wrote the Skill Book themselves. But usually, the Tower read their memories and used them as a basis to create it.
"Skill Books inevitably carry traces of their creators."
For those who left no other mark, it was their sole memento—the only relic they bequeathed.
"It's my own way of paying respects."
This Used Bookstore doubled as a place to commemorate countless souls.
Each volume held a life story.
Of course, they were woefully brief summaries of those lives.
But they were enough. Enough to keep from forgetting.
"That's why I hate seeing them thrown away. Sure, I have my own thirst for knowledge. I won't deny that."
But if that were her only motive, she never would have bought up Skill Books the Tower deemed worthless—even ungraded.
She'd gathered them precisely because they were slated for disposal.
Books touched by hands but free of dust—hundreds, thousands of them—filled her gaze.
"You asked why I collect Skill Books, why I sort them by author. Is this reason enough?"
"Then... that explains why you're always short on money."
The Tower wasn't heartless enough to charge a fortune for ungraded Skill Books. Sometimes she even got them for free as support funds. The cost wasn't that high.
Her perennial lack of cash stemmed purely from her hobby of collecting books.
"Who knows?"
She dodged with vagueness.
Ber's gaze held a touch of apology.
It stung a little, but she hadn't lied.
"Liv!"
Ber pulled her into a tight embrace.
Those ample breasts made it hard to breathe, yet somehow, comfort bloomed within.