Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Mysterious Grimoire
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"Where the hell did this tower even come from?"
Moon Byul caressed the tower that had sprouted up in Seoul.
Stone or mineral? It felt like something from another world entirely.
There was a rumor that touching the tower and making a wish would awaken you. He could confidently say that was bullshit, and the reason was simple.
'I've touched it almost every day, and nothing's happened.'
Moon Byul, a lowly ninth-grade civil servant, had been reassigned to guard duty at the tower after it appeared. One might ask why guards were needed when climbers just teleported inside. It made perfect sense logically.
No need to protect an indestructible structure threatening humanity, right?
But surprisingly, plenty of weirdos came sniffing around this massive, ominous thing.
People checking for hidden entrances, folks who just wanted to touch it once, YouTubers, and even climbers declaring they'd scale it...
He got why people were curious about this unknown monolith piercing the heavens. He really did!
"Sir, you can't come in! It's dangerous!"
"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"
People wouldn't listen. Work, don't work—they ignored him completely. They'd promised a proper agency would take over soon, but when?
"Well, nothing happened today, at least."
He stroked the tower lingeringly, half-hoping for that awakening, then gave up.
'If only I could awaken... my life would turn around.'
It made his mouth water just thinking about it. Sure, it was risky, but tower drops fetched insane prices.
The government was prioritizing economic laws over dangerous awakeners for good reason.
No matter how he sliced it, awakening was the only path to success for an orphaned nobody like him with zero talents.
Glancing up, the tower looked like a sword poised to skewer the moon.
"Ah, maybe a status window will drop from the sky for me too."
Whiiiiiir.
"Gah!"
A fierce gust suddenly whipped up, strong enough to force his eyes shut.
Thud.
Something heavy hit the ground.
"Who's there?"
He shouted reflexively, eyes squeezed tight, but no answer came.
"...What the?"
When he opened his eyes, no one was there. The area was as still as before the wind.
Just something book-shaped on the ground.
"...Did that fall from up there?"
The only tall structure around was the tower.
"You saying this dropped from the tower?"
He approached the fallen book cautiously. One look, and he knew it wasn't ordinary.
The tower was completely sealed off—no entrances, exits, or windows connecting inside and out. Even climbers teleported directly in; no one came or went through any passage.
Its interior was said to be vastly larger than the outer walls suggested. A structure defying all known physics.
And from that structure fell a single unidentified book.
'Should I report this?'
His guard duty included reporting anomalies, but nothing like this.
Look at that wriggling cover. Like stars in the night sky squirming.
Curiosity won; he poked it with a stick.
'...'
Nothing happened, so his guard dropped. He reached to pick it up—but at that instant—
"Wh-what the hell?!"
The moment his hand touched it, an alien glow burst from the book.
And it grabbed his hand, refusing to let go. The cover warped, revealing something round.
An eye. Or it looked like one.
Found you.
Did the book just speak?
His hand was no longer his own.
Flutter flutter.
The pages flipped open wildly, but he couldn't read them. They didn't even register as language to his eyes.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Compatibility 99%] This wasn't good. Panic clawed at his mind as he yanked his fingers, nearly breaking them, but the book wouldn't release.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ After drifting through the cosmos for eons, I have found my suitable vessel. I, the Wanderer of the Vast Deep Sea, bestow this Grimoire upon you. "What bullshit is this?! Let go!"
He struggled with all his might, but it was pointless.
This wasn't the kind of force he could fight.
Fwaaah.
The pages flew by, erupting in light that swallowed his vision entirely.
A torrent of information flooded his mind.
And with it, he blacked out.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Ugh... my head."
He'd apparently passed out. The last thing he remembered was something being crammed into his skull.
When he came to and opened his eyes, stars greeted him.
"Whoa."
Setting aside his situation, the sight was so breathtaking he zoned out and let out a gasp of awe.
It felt like standing in the heart of the universe. Stars everywhere—no clue if he was spinning or they were moving.
"Hoo, haa, hoo, haa."
Breathing was fine.
Slap!
He slapped his cheeks and pinched them—sensations normal.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
He shouted into the void alone. No ground, no sky, no gravity—he just floated aimlessly.
"Hey!"
He yelled desperately for what felt like an hour before giving up, exhausted.
"Fuck..."
Only then did the reality sink in. He'd become a lone lost child in space.
Logically, this had to be inside the book. Or the book had tossed him here.
Not real space, though. Sound worked here; in vacuum, it wouldn't. And no gear? He'd be dead.
Flailing around made zero-G less disorienting. He stopped spinning and oriented himself.
No up or down visible, but his senses told him. This place couldn't fool his spatial awareness.
Using instinct, he swam slowly forward through the dark sea of space. He picked the nearest star and headed for it.
Three hours passed.
He realized his special ability: perfectly sensing time's flow.
No clock, nothing to gauge by, but he knew. Three hours exactly.
"What is this place?! Hey! Wanderer of the Vast Deep Sea!"
He dredged up the memory, calling desperately, but nothing. What did this book want from him?
What was he supposed to do? Or just wait?
Only time flowed here.
Day 2.
Time sense sharpened to superhuman levels. Felt it on his skin.
No hunger, sleepiness, or bodily needs.
But he craved lying down, a hot meal, solid ground, something to hold, someone to talk to.
"I was about to clock out..."
Regret hit again. Why touch a sketchy book? What gave him the balls?
He banged his head, berated himself, regretted more.
"Stupid bastard. It screamed 'do not touch,' and I did. Why?!"
Regret and self-loathing deepened.
Warmth... he wanted warmth.
Day 7.
He quit stupidly chasing lights through infinite space.
Stars looked close but were light-years away. No progress.
"Close" just meant they were huge, not near.
"Fuck... fuck..."
Was he even moving? Or just flailing pathetically in place?
"Cold... so cold..."
He curled fetal, shivering uncontrollably. What could a castaway in this dark abyss do?
"Ugh... ugh... aaahhh!"
Screams echoed into silence. No reverb, no muffling. Sanity fraying.
"C-can I get out of here?"
No one to hear, but he forced words out. Silence would drive him insane.
Day 17.
Water. Not thirsty—just wanted to drink.
Crunch, crunch.
He gnawed his nails. Blood proved he lived.
But was this real flesh?
Probably a mental body. Real meat would've failed by now.
So illusionary blood? If he didn't escape soon, he'd unravel. But what was "self"?
Every thought: philosophy, trivia, senses, logic for escape.
Mind intact—for now. A month? A year?
He dreaded eternity here. The thought rooted, gnawing slowly.
Ah, thought it again.
He clawed nonexistent nails into arms like a maniac. Wounds accumulating? Healing? Who knew.
Pain wasn't bad anymore. It anchored his mind.
Day 30.
Nothing happened, yet everything did.
He discovered it.
How to grasp and move the stars.
First, total surrender. Curled fetal, mind blanked, thinking restricted all day.
Then—assimilation. He recoiled, unleashing thought.
For a flash, he was the universe. Beyond human senses—a sixth sense.
He replayed it slowly, eyed a twinkling star, realized:
Subconsciously, he'd treated this as physical space.
Ditched physics. Needed paradigm shift.
If spirit or soul...
That assimilation feeling.
How do souls interact with space? Coordinates? No, not physical.
Thought and thought.
A new sense awakened. Soul sense?
Unlike Spider-Man's tingle—spiritual.
Septasense? Nah, lame. Soul sense? Better.
'Soul sense it is.'
Focused. If mental realm, not physical...
Eyes closed, synced fingertips with space. Light via soul sense. Universe felt.
"Ah, got it."
Voice hoarse from disuse.
Eyes open: his hand was a star.
He linked to the brightest, forming a constellation, and flew toward it.
No wind, yet cool rush.
"Hrgh... aaah! I'm getting out! I! Am! Getting out! No matter what!"
He would escape alive.