Episode 4-a. Entwined and Diverging Timelines (3)
Traveling across time and space. That had been one of the things I'd always dreamed of since I was a kid.
Freely crossing through time and space to get what I wanted, meddling in and changing the things I regretted. Meeting historical figures face-to-face, stepping into places I'd always longed to visit at least once. It was the kind of thought anyone might have in their childish whims, a fleeting fancy from youth.
So what was it that I truly desired? When I was very young, I think I dreamed of going back to just before my death on Earth, to see my mom and dad one more time. Life there had been nothing special, full of insignificant moments, but still, I clung to that tiny existence that had slipped away. Back then, before I could fully accept this new life, I must have been a foolish kid harboring such dreams.
A little older, around the time I met Asha and started helping her, I began wishing to tread lands that background characters like me could never reach. Even as I felt pity and stubbornly aided the gray one, deep down I harbored a desire to travel, dreaming those dreams now and then. I was a real idiot, grinning like a child lost in unrealistic fantasies.
And now, if I had to say what I wanted most... I think it's a future where the gray-haired woman can live happily. I hoped her dream of becoming ordinary would come true. The image of her trembling hands, suppressing her emotions behind a forced smile, lingered faintly in my mind. I wished the desperate dream of that woman—who was both a disaster and no longer one—would become reality.
In other words, as an adult, I was dreaming even more childish dreams. Wanting the most foolish, most idiotic things.
Clack-clack—the sound of running feet was followed by the thunk of a door flying open.
"Whoa, what's this place?!"
"Tori! No matter how you look at it, this isn't what we're after! There's some weird thing squirming around!"
"Hmm, then next door! Let's go, Yaki!"
"Great idea! My turn to open this one!"
Just moments ago, the two kids had been pouting, but now they were in high spirits, dashing around and flinging open every door they saw.
I worried if their antics might bother others, but the people glancing at the running children only wore fond, amused smiles.
"Kids, you can only peek inside. Don't stick your foot in—you might get in real trouble."
"“Okaay~”"
Horn, Aberly, and I trailed behind them through the streets, and that's when Horn's voice rumbled out.
"So, kid, is there no danger in actually stepping through those doors?"
"Hmm... From what I know, it seems pretty safe, mostly."
"Why's that? What if you pop into a dragon's lair? It could attack on sight."
Horn's question was perfectly reasonable. I'd looked into exactly those concerns myself at first.
To sum it up, this world had safeguards on everything.
"The moment you step through a door, there's a forced intervention from time and space itself."
"Forced intervention?"
"Yeah. Say you drop into some village out of nowhere. To us, we're total strangers, first-time visitors. But to the villagers, right then and there, we're recognized as longtime locals."
In these ruins, that came with heavy perception dampening and a kind of mental haze—a novelistic safety net.
"If you land in a dragon's lair, the dragons see you as a fellow dragon they've known forever. Drop into a dwarf clan, and they think you're one of their own."
"Hmph... That's somethin'. Pretty damn clever."
If it weren't like that, scholars and researchers without much power wouldn't dare set foot here.
"C'mon, old man, you've lived forever—how do you not know this?"
"Just 'cause I'm old doesn't mean I know everything, you little shit."
"What a wasted life."
"Watch that pretty mouth of yours."
We bickered as always, chasing after the kids' heels.
"Th-then... what if we kill a local? Or, or if we die? What if it's a historically important figure who just... d-dies...?"
"Well... From what I know, there's forced plausibility there too. Like, you physically can't kill them, or something always blocks it... Ah, sorry, old man."
I answered Aberly's question anyway. No matter what you do here, the past doesn't change. If it did, whether this world was a novel or not, it'd be total chaos. The author's convenient plot devices handled that.
"Th-then those people who got 'eaten by time and space' in these ruins... wh-what about them...?"
"That's... well... Hey, I said sorry!"
I tried to answer all of Aberly's questions, but a certain short old dwarf kept interrupting.
"The hammer knows the answer. Take one hit."
"That looks like the wrong answer no matter how you slice it."
"Nah, it's right. You admitted it in Tebris, kid."
This crazy old coot had been swinging his hammer threateningly more lately.
"Argh, fuck."
"The hell? You callin' me a dwarf bastard? You speciesist prick, I'll tan your hide."
"You're losin' it... you deaf old dwarf. Aberly, hang on a sec."
"Haha, I-I'm always on the winner's side."
Was he finally nearing the end? Those rotten ears only heard what he wanted.
Anyway, the answer to Aberly's question: There were two cases of getting trapped in the tangled time-space.
First: Venturing too deep in pursuit of knowledge, staying too long, and slowly getting devoured.
Second: Powerhouses strong enough to shatter the forced intervention, breaking through the perception dampening and mental haze to capture and vanish the traveler.
Most ended up as the first kind. Eternal pilgrims doomed to wander time and space forever, ghosts repeating the loop without escape. Usually overzealous scholars and researchers.
Our usual squabble with the old dwarf wrapped up.
"Ah, if I were just ten years younger."
"Too bad. If we'd met ten years earlier, I was still a little brat—you might've won."
Horn wasn't just a fighter; he was a blacksmith, and as he said, pretty ancient even for a dwarf.
"Kid, can I just give you one real smack?"
"Even one swing of that hammer would kill me."
"So?"
And yet his strength was insane, so taking that "one" would probably vaporize my head.
While we bantered, the kids were bouncing in front of a door, calling us over.
"Ain oppa! Over here, this door!"
"Ain hyung! Something amazing beyond this door!"
They were so excited I went to check, and they flung it wide, pointing inside.
"What's got you so hyped...? Hmm."
"“Ta-da! Future candy factory!”"
No, kids. We'd just been talking about heartfelt stuff like maybe seeing your parents again when we first arrived—something touching and bittersweet.
But after diligently opening doors, what lights up your eyes is... a pointless candy factory?
I thought that, but still ruffled their hair.
"Wanna go in?"
"Just five minutes? Grab a few candies and come right out?"
"...Yeah. Let's pop in quick."
It was ridiculous, but this candy factory had pierced through thousands, millions of probabilities—a rare time-space anomaly. Miss it now, and it wouldn't reappear before we left the ruins.
And five minutes later, stuffed with candy, we emerged.
Our roles inside? Factory workers. We ignored the boss's yelling, scarfed down finished candies, then slipped back out the entry door.
"...Fucking delicious."
"“Nyaaa, heavenly... ”"
"Kid, one more quick trip in and out...? Fuck, already closed."
"Haha... Kinda sucks we can't take stuff from inside out..."
A future candy factory. Definitely no regrets.
Here's hoping we find it again before we die.