Apostle of the Curator (4): The Woman Clutching Her Tiny Merchandise
Clutching her small piece of merch dearly, Monica pressed forward through the endless fog of darkness.
She had no way of knowing if this was the right direction or if her will alone could get her out of here—but even so, she kept going.
As long as she gripped this badge tightly, it felt like the Curator, who had once loved her in return, was watching over her. That sensation alone let her endure the terror of the unknown.
With courage surging through her veins, driving out her fear, the woman stepped forward resolutely.
One step.
Another step.
She kept advancing, advancing endlessly.
"This place..."
The outlines of the space, filled only with pitch-black darkness, began to emerge bit by bit.
"No way..."
A faint black silhouette far in the distance.
For some reason, it felt familiar...
"It can't be..."
The woman broke into a run.
A landscape she'd seen countless times. And yet, precisely because of that, it felt utterly alien now.
The woman was certain.
"Akash...ic Archive..."
Akashic Archive
Her eyes, now accustomed to the dark, confirmed it: this was the place she'd encountered countless times inside the game.
The place lovingly managed by her beloved Curator—and the very spot where he had met his heroic end.
"...This is weird."
But it was a little different from what she remembered.
Unlike the pristine Akashic Archive always brimming with bright light, this one was shrouded in near-total darkness, almost devoid of any illumination.
As if its curator had died, leaving it untouched and abandoned to ruin.
Unable to hide her dismay, Monica wandered around, surveying her surroundings.
Poof...
"What an unusual occurrence."
A mysterious energy coalesced into human form, accompanied by a sweet, enchanting voice.
"!"
Monica's eyes widened as her head slowly turned toward the source of the voice.
"A visitor, no less."
Monica couldn't believe her eyes.
It's him.
Definitely him.
The one she'd loved and cherished so deeply.
Not the fragmented, mechanical image of him as a mere game character.
A living, breathing real one...!
The black-haired pretty boy, the Curator, lounged casually against a desk.
"I am the Curator of this Akashic Archive. And who might you be?"
The boy smiled.
Her ultimate bias, alive and real before her eyes!
Monica felt like her heart might stop right then and there.
She opened her mouth.
She wanted to say it: that she'd thought he was dead, that she'd missed him, that she loved him.
But it was as if her throat were bound— no sound came out.
"Hmm..."
The boy crossed his arms, resting his chin on his hand.
"Monica, is it?"
Gah!
Monica clutched her chest.
Her ultimate bias calling her name!
It wasn't good for her heart.
She'd encountered him countless times in the game, but that soulless NPC was worlds apart from this reality.
Poof!
The boy dissolved into smoke and reappeared right in front of her.
"This aura... courage? An Apostle of Courage? Interesting."
The boy brought his thumb and forefinger to her chin.
"Let me see... my... funeral."
Hmm...
Like he was reading her memories, the boy nodded with little hums of affirmation.
A sweet scent wafted from him.
Monica's face flushed hot.
"I see. You remembered me, mourned me. Thank you."
After peering deep into her mind for what felt like ages, the boy placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair.
"...Ehehehe..."
This awkward situation of having her head petted sent a fluffy, dreamy sensation washing over her entire body.
Normally, she'd have yelled "How dare you!" and tackled him—but Monica simply savored the feeling.
"But it's strange."
The boy tilted his head.
"Why is it that in your memories, I seem to be in love with a man?"
"...Huh?"
"I don't love men sexually."
Disgust and revulsion flickered across the boy's face.
"To think someone would fabricate and spread lies about me. Unforgivable..."
"N-No, that's not—!"
Monica's heart raced in panic.
"I'll have to find out who's behind this."
The boy reached for her head again.
"W-Wait a second!"
Monica stepped back.
What if he reads all my memories?
What if he sees everything I've done?
Will he hate me? Despise me?
That anger and disgust he'd shown just now...
It would surely turn toward her.
She couldn't bear that.
To be hated by him.
Not even the power of courage could overcome that terrifying future.
"It's—it's called bromance!"
"...Bromance?"
The boy's eyebrow twitched.
Normally, she'd have launched into a detailed explanation of bromance and the nature of male love.
She was that obsessed with her interests, that opinionated.
But the fear of being hated by the boy before her shattered her world.
The Apostle of Courage's once-in-a-lifetime, do-or-die mental pivot.
"Wh-When I played the game, I used the male assistant curator's avatar, that's all! I don't think you're weird or anything...! No, I mean, there's this Daegwan Association spreading weird lies about you! I infiltrated them out of my faith and love for you! To catch those villains distorting the truth!"
Selling out the association she was vice president of in an instant.
An extreme act of evolution and adaptation to win her bias's approval.
"...Is that so?"
"Yes! M-More than that, those absurd rumors were spread by outsiders trying to tarnish your image—they're just slander! I would never fall for such nonsense!"
The boy chuckled at her frantic flailing.
"Don't worry. I can feel the immense affection inside you."
"...Huh?"
"This is my inner world—and the prison that confines me. Not just anyone can come here."
"Prison..."
She glanced around as the boy spread his arms wide.
"Only those who feel extremely strong emotions toward me can reach this place."
Under the boy's direct gaze, Monica's face burned red.
"Only those with powerful faith toward me—especially intensely positive ones—can enter. And you qualify."
!!
That's it!
The reason I could enter his inner world is because my love is that strong!
Not anyone from the Daegwan Association—just me, recognized!
"D-Does that mean I love you more than anyone else? More than any of your fans?"
Monica's face twisted with manic glee.
"..."
The boy paused, seemingly at a loss for words.
Regaining his composure, he finally replied.
"Well... it could be called love, but it's positive, intense emotion directed at me that enters me and gives me strength. The kind of power that could lead to my resurrection. Much like faith toward a god."
!!
My love enters him! How romantic!
The boy sighed, eyes half-resigned.
"In any case, you're perfectly suited as my believer. If you weren't another constellation's apostle, I'd make you mine."
"Th-Then I'll abandon my constellation right now and follow you—"
"No, stop. You want me to turn 'Courage' into an enemy?"
"...Ah."
Stealing another constellation's apostle wasn't a minor taboo. Apostles were the core of a god's faith; poaching one was tantamount to declaring war. The last apostle theft on the continent had escalated into a holy war.
"It's fine. Your affection alone is enough."
The boy's hand gently caressed her cheek.
"I do have one favor to ask."
"A-Anything! Just say the word!"
"These weird rumors about me harm my resurrection."
"...Harm it? How?"
"Simply put, the stronger the distorted, warped perceptions of me grow, the more my pure divinity gets tainted. It drastically delays my descent into reality."
Thud!
A massive stone seemed to drop in Monica's chest.
All the things I've done until now... were hindering him?
Everything as vice president of the Daegwan Association?
The boy waved his hand dismissively, looking eager to wrap things up.
"So, it'd be great if someone could stop those fabricating lies as if they were real..."
"M-Me! I can do it!"
"You?"
"Yes! I'm the vice president of the Continental Curator Association! Thousands of curator fans will move at my word!"
"Cur... what? ...Ah, never mind."
Didn't she just say she infiltrated it? The story didn't add up.
Whatever. As long as they could be eradicated.
The boy shook his head with a weary expression.
"Then, can I ask you to do it?"
"O-Of course... everything as you wish."
"Good. When you leave here, my apostle will be waiting outside for you."
"...Your apostle?"
That bitch who took the position I couldn't!
Rage boiled inside Monica.
"Just follow her instructions for a bit. ...Think you can manage?"
"I can! Leave it to me!"
"Alright. Then I'm counting on you."
The boy placed a finger on her forehead.
"Handle my request well, and we might meet again later."
"R-Really?!"
"Yes. So do your best."
Flash!
Her consciousness cut off like a snapped film reel.
The next moment, the woman was back in the real-world temple.
"Ah, you're awake. Nice to meet you, Ms. Bar Monica."
A blond pretty boy extended his hand to her.
"I'm Rian, apostle of the Akashic Archive."