Coming to the Real World
I had come back to the real world.
Ah. Was "come back" even the right way to put it?
I was a copy Distortion Entity of Cham Yeoul — a body born inside a Distorted World. Which meant I had never existed in this world at all. Even if the memories of my life as a man were genuine, they belonged to a life lived in a world entirely separate from this one.
I decided to amend the phrasing, just a little.
I had successfully made it out of the Distorted World.
Silence hung over the studio apartment. Cham Yeoul's corpse was nowhere to be found. One thing, however, remained: a rope, still knotted to the ceiling. Apparently the original hadn't transferred into the Distorted World.
Had it already become a habit? Without thinking, I let the camera linger on the rope tied overhead.
A beat too late, I realized my mistake. I probably shouldn't have shown them that.
"Hmm… I should check whether this is actually the real world first."
I crossed the room toward the window. Even without opening it, I could tell time hadn't frozen the way it had in the Distorted World. Shrrrk— I slid the window open. The view outside was exactly what it should have been.
I checked the rest of the place as well. Opening the bathroom door revealed a bathroom. Opening the front door revealed a hallway.
I closed the front door, then slowly swept the interior with my phone. Surprisingly few objects had transferred into the Distorted World. The front door and the bathroom door were still here, of course — and so were the mirror, the desk, the mattress, and the refrigerator.
Ah. The clothes are gone. Those drab, baggy things.
The originals of those must have crossed over too — the same way my ID, wallet, and phone had come out of the Distorted World with me.
I ran a few more checks. I opened the desk drawer. No other studio unfolded on the other side. I lifted the mattress. Nothing but ordinary floor. Moving slowly, I ran my hands over every wall in the apartment. None of them let me through. I pressed my palm to the mirror. It didn't give.
Crash—!
I smashed the mirror with my phone.
I reached out again. Still solid. Next I opened the refrigerator. Leftover bread sat inside, still uneaten.
The bread I saw in the Distorted World too — the leftovers from yesterday. This is definitely in my memories as well.
On this point, at least, it was proof that Cham Yeoul's trail had been identical to mine up through yesterday. Either the lives we'd lived overlapped more than I'd expected, or Cham Yeoul's memories had been distorted and injected into me, with a considerable portion of them still intact. One or the other.
Either way, it worked in my favor. The more our memories overlapped, the more easily I could live as the real On Yeoul without drawing anyone's suspicion.
In any case, that finished the inspection.
"Ah. I just saw the chat."
The viewers wanted to know why a rope was tied to the ceiling. I'd been hoping to gloss over it, but far more of them kept pressing than I'd expected, so I had no choice but to answer.
"What is this rope, you ask? It's interior design."
"To the viewer who asked earlier if it was interior design: congratulations. You got it right."
Unfortunately, that excuse didn't land. They weren't as stupid as I'd hoped.
I can't think of a decent cover story. Now what?
I let out a small hum, considered it for a moment, and decided to go shameless.
"Why should I have to explain my own home's interior to all of you? Just take it as it is."
Eugh… had that last remark been a bit much?
I scratched my head, looking faintly embarrassed. They'd only asked because they were worried about me, and I'd come off like a total jerk. I ought to reflect on that.
I let out a sigh and asked,
"Haa. Everyone — you're assuming I tied this rope to the ceiling because I was planning to kill myself, is that it?"
"I appreciate the concern, but the thing you're imagining is never going to happen, so please don't worry."
"I mean it. Why would I die? I was born with a face this beautiful. There's no way I'd be foolish enough to throw away a blessing like that myself. If you were me, would you give up this appearance and leave the world behind?"
"And I think someone mentioned this earlier — if I'd actually wanted to kill myself, I wouldn't have escaped the Distorted World in the first place."
The chat finally settled down a little. I'd somehow managed to clean up the shit Cham Yeoul had left behind.
I'm still uneasy. I'm still worried. It's not true, right?
Messages like that still trickled in now and then, but they were a minority, so I paid them no mind. Of course, they could always multiply again, so I decided to change the subject fast.
"Anyway, now that I'm back in the real world, I should get back to what I was originally going to do."
"The convenience store, of course. I'm starving to death."
According to Error, starving to death wasn't actually on the table. I could feel hunger, sure, but this body could keep living without food.
"Oh. Thank you both for the 300 Churu. I'll buy two convenience store lunch boxes."
"I'm kidding. I'll buy something tastier with the donations. Thank you."
I thanked the two of them again, then checked — just in case — whether the Churu had actually come through. Fortunately, they had. I couldn't withdraw them right away, though.
Alright, then… what should I eat instead of a convenience store lunch box? What kind of meal would get people talking about how well I'd eaten?
I was in the middle of that happy little dilemma when—
Thud, thud, thud—!
A sudden knocking sounded at the front door.
"No? Nobody should be coming."
"The doorbell's broken."
Answering chat as I went, I strode toward the front door.
I stopped right in front of the door. Not knowing who was on the other side, I didn't open it.
"Who is it?"
I called through the door. A brief silence followed — and then an unfamiliar woman's voice answered from the other side.