Distorted World: Studio Apartment (11)

The instant Error posted the chat message Get lost, the donation alerts that had been blaring nonstop cut out cold.

I shifted my gaze to the viewer list. After confirming that a viewer named Ppoojik-Ppoojik(Smart) had vanished, I called Error's name, keeping my tone casual.

"Error."

"That one who was spamming donations just now — did you ban them?"

So it was Error's doing, just as I'd thought. But why were they apologizing? They didn't need my permission for something like this.

Even without asking me first, I was prepared to look the other way when it came to minor interference that didn't disrupt the stream. And interference that actually helped me? That I'd praise, obviously.

"No, you did good. You don't have to apologize."

"But what was that thing just now?"

I asked about the identity of the one who'd been banned. There wasn't much point in knowing now that they were already gone, but I was curious all the same.

I flinched, just a little. For a second I thought someone in chat had caught on. Reading the messages over more carefully, though, it was clearly a joke — not an actual suspicion that I was a Distortion Entity.

I cleared my throat softly and opened my mouth.

"I know it's a Distortion Entity. I'm asking what kind."

"A smartphone-copy Distortion Entity?"

I glanced around, scanning the interior of the studio, and asked Error,

"That thing isn't in this studio, right?"

I'd figured as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠much. Before I'd crossed over into this place, I'd asked if there was anything I needed to watch out for, and Error had said there was nothing dangerous.

"Is it a Distortion Entity with no physical form?"

The other viewers' messages mixed in, so Error's chats came through in fragments. I found it rather endearing — they were clearly trying to hold back from interfering with the stream. If they felt like it, they could pin their own messages to the very bottom of the chat.

"If it's in a different space, does that mean it can observe this entire world the way you can, Error?"

Apparently it wasn't a Distortion Entity on Error's level. Our Error could observe an entire Distorted World without needing anything like an electronic device. Of course, they hadn't come out and stated their own abilities directly — but they knew what was in the other studios, and they'd pinpointed the location of the exit, too.

Error added that Ppoojik-Ppoojik had been completely locked out. Not just from my stream — they couldn't even access the smartphone I was holding.

Error had replied to another viewer's chat. I tilted my head.

"What kind of education?"

"...You have the ability to make Distortion Entities become good?"

I marveled inwardly. Our Error really couldn't do anything, could they? What were they, an omnipotent Distortion Entity?

I didn't press for details on how one went about making a Distortion Entity become good. The way they'd said probably suggested even Error wasn't entirely sure of their own ability. Maybe it was because they were still a baby. We hadn't been born all that long ago, after all.

Anyway. I'd asked everything I needed to ask. It was time to move. Back to the real home I remembered.

I headed for the bathroom door — the next path Error had pointed out earlier — and glanced at the chat as I went. Right now, the conversation was mostly people wondering what kind of Distortion Entity Error was.

Come to think of it, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I hadn't asked either. ...Well, I had a rough idea, so I decided not to bother. Error was probably some kind of Distortion Entity derived from a smartphone, more or less.

With that thought, I pulled the bathroom door open with a long creeeak and stepped through into the next studio.

After I'd resumed the stream, I passed through a total of five studios via bathroom doors. Not once did I run into anything dangerous. Thanks to Error's guidance, the journey had been uneventful.

And somewhere along the way, I'd taken the time to tinker with the stream settings. I set it so that manager chats would appear highlighted. Error could have interfered with the stream to make their own messages stand out, of course — but this wasn't a special situation, so why bother? The stream settings could handle it just fine on their own.

Anyway, it definitely made them easier to spot. Not just the messages — the usernames stood out clearly too.

Error and Ppang-ayeon. I'd entrusted the manager roles to those two. Originally, I'd planned to give Ppang-ayeon manager once I kept streaming after the escape — but since I was handing it to Error this time anyway, I went ahead and delegated both while I was at it.

No complaints, of course. If anything, they'd been over the moon about it.

"If it's dangerous I'd rather not go. Is there a way around? I don't mind if it takes longer."

"Yeah? Then I guess there's no choice."

Error immediately launched into an explanation of the next studio. It was a room that gradually contracted whenever a living being entered, they said. Walking in with no information would be dangerous, but if you knew the details ahead of time, you could pass through without much trouble. In other words, I could get through it safely — because Error was giving me the information.

Once I'd heard what waited on the other side of the mirror, I passed through it without the slightest hesitation.

I didn't actually need to run. It wasn't shrinking that fast. Still, there was no harm in playing it safe, so I walked quickly to the front door. The front door was the path to the next studio — and the only way out of this one. This studio, like the others, wouldn't let you go back the way you'd come.

The digital lock on this front door had no open button. Instead, a keypad for entering a password had been mounted on it. Error had given me the password in advance. I'd memorized it, of course — and just in case it slipped my mind, I'd been repeating it over and over in my head the whole way here.

Not that forgetting it would have been a problem. The viewers were all posting it in chat together.

I slid the door-lock cover up with a click. Then, calmly, I entered every digit of the password Error had given me.

Beep-beep — clunk-whoosh!

With a cheerful chime, the front door swung open.