The 23rd Day: A Friend Named Wilson

"Hoo, hoo, huff."

I couldn't hold on any longer, so I stopped midway up the slope. I wedged the boulder against a ledge and braced my back against it to keep it from rolling away. Had it been five hours? Ten? My arms were numb, and I had no feeling left in my fingertips. My back and neck ached as if they were about to snap from the constant, hunched-over pushing.

"Damn it."

For the first time in ten hours, I looked down. I’d called this "midway," but I had only managed to climb about 20 meters from the starting point.

"Is this why they call it a 'Time Prison'?"

I had experienced time dragging like this before. During a forced march in the military. Ah, wait—that was my previous life. I got confused. I’d trained a few guards in my territory, but it wasn't exactly a full-scale army. Whenever a real problem arose, I usually had to hire a guild.

I glanced up at the goal beyond the boulder. There was a clearly marked zone, like a finish line, signaling the end of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first floor. There were even stakes where I could rest the rock for a moment. The first floor I was climbing seemed to be a tutorial, a practice zone. There were almost no obstacles, and the ground was just dirt, so it wasn't even that slippery.

"It means I can't let go until I reach that point."

It would be a lot easier if I at least had a status window.

"Let's go a little further."

I’d had my rest, and my back was starting to ache again, so I turned around and began putting strength back into my arms.

Consistency is everything. Don't try too hard, Sisyphus. Just do what you need to do for today. I learned that habit from my mother.

My father was Aeolus Hippotes. Hippotes was my paternal grandfather's name. In an era where we didn't use surnames or family names yet, people introduced themselves as "son of so-and-so," or attached their father's name behind their own like a surname. I had six siblings. Seven of us in total. It might seem like a lot, but in an age where population equals labor and power, it was quite normal.

Our family wasn't a grand dynasty or a prestigious house, but we were nobles. Minor nobles. There were three types of noble families in this era: the intellectuals, the families of demigod heroes, and the lordly families who owned the cities. We were the third. We had cultivated the territory of Corinth through the lodging business started by my grandfather.

The mistress of our house, my mother, was named Enarete. She was a wise woman.

"Mom, studying is so hard."

When I was young, I mostly herded cattle. Cows were needed to plow the fields, and their milk was a vital source of nutrition. I had to watch over hundreds of them. Herding meant I had to count them, learn how to distribute fodder, and allocate tasks according to the seasons and dates. I had to know math. I thought math was a subject only for great intellectuals like Pythagoras, so I grew to loathe reading numbers on parchment every day.

"Stupid Sisyphus, you lost a cow! Can't you even do simple addition?"

My eldest brother, Salmoneus, had been quick with calculations since he was a child. He would scold me whenever I made even the slightest mistake. I hated losing to him, but at the same time, I hated studying... That unproductive routine repeated itself.

"It's alright. Don't try too hard, Sisyphus."

Whenever that happened, my mother would say those words. "It's okay if you don't try too hard. People just get exhausted if they push themselves. It's enough to read just as much as you need to for today."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Slowly, steadily—only doing what I could manage. Now, I know the truth: 90 percent of the world's people put off even the work they could do today until tomorrow. I was doing well enough just by finishing what I could do today. Besides, there was no way I could beat a brother who had come into the world two years before me.

"You've learned to count up to 10,000. I'm so proud of you, Sisyphus."

And my mother would shower me with endless praise. Thanks to her, I learned the joy of acquiring knowledge, and by the time I was fifteen, I was known as the greatest intellectual and orator in the territory. That was likely why my father chose me, not my brother, as the next lord. My mother was kind, beautiful, and cherished our family more than anyone. And she died. Because of the gods.

"A magical beast has appeared!"

"It's a Bicorn! It's raining down lightning! The city is a sea of fire!"

"Lord Aeolus, we must offer tribute to Zeus immediately!"

The gods are fickle. No, they're just foul-tempered psychos. One day when I was fifteen, I learned that clearly. They give humanity abundance, only to unleash magical beasts to snatch it all away at once, just to enjoy the spectacle.

"Good heavens, it's the middle of winter, where are we supposed to find grain to offer…!"

"Why now of all times!"

I watched clearly as the beast raided our territory, burning our fields, smashing buildings, and trampling people to death. And that guy, flying in the sky, sneering at us. A handsome young man wearing winged sandals. Hermes, the messenger of Olympus and the god of thieves, was watching us and enjoying it.

"Ah, this is hilarious. Look at them running around in a panic. No need to hire a theater troupe... Hmm?"

Hermes swooped down toward me and flashed a grotesque, eerie smile. "You're the one, aren't you? The brat who humiliated my son, Autolycus."

Autolycus was a middle-aged lord of a neighboring city. He didn't get along with my father and was always causing disputes. He often snuck into our territory to steal things, so I had anticipated what he would steal and engraved numbers and my signature on the items in advance. This time, it was cows. I had hidden my signature on the cows' hooves. Caught red-handed, Autolycus had to pay double the value for the twenty cows he stole and kneel to apologize before my father and me.

I hadn't known Hermes was his father. So he had learned his thieving skills from the god of thieves himself? Was Autolycus, who had the potential to be a hero, just wasting his life on petty theft? It was also bizarre that the father of that greedy old man was this handsome youth. That was when I realized that gods only looked human; they were strange, ageless beings who enjoyed killing people.

"I won't kill you, Sisyphus. That would ruin my son's fun."

Hermes sent Zeus's beast to our home and vanished high into the sky, cackling. I ran home like a madman, but the tragedy had already occurred. My father had been gored by the beast's horns and was crippled, having lost both legs. My mother would never open her eyes again. My siblings who hadn't been home at the time were spared, but the sorrow was doubled. It took several more days for heroes to be dispatched and subdue the beast. I took over the role of head of the house and lord in place of my father, who could no longer move. Fifteen is young, even in this era. That was why I lived so desperately. Day by day, staying faithful to today, just as my mother had said. Fortunately, Corinth was able to recover and flourish once again.

Push, rest, push again. The sun rose, set, and rose again, so another day had passed. I was pushing the boulder up, little by little. Since I couldn't focus on anything else during this manual labor, all sorts of thoughts filled my head.

"My mother also said..."

Old memories surfaced. "Make ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠good friends wherever you are."

I couldn't keep that promise. I was too busy acting as lord. The one friend I had... it became hard to treat them the same after that beast incident. Hermes. My blood boiled just thinking of that guy's face. But what could I do? Even heroes couldn't touch him; there was no way for a mere human to do anything about a god they hated. When I reunited with him at the palace of Olympus, my vision had turned blood-red, but I was already so tortured that I didn't even have the strength to be angry.

"Ah."

Perhaps because my mind had wandered, the boulder caught on a protruding rock. I lost the balance I was holding with both hands.

"No, no, don't!"

The catastrophe happened in an instant.

—Rumble!

The boulder, oblivious to my desperate heart, rolled all the way back to the starting point in a flash.

"...Ha."

I stared blankly at the sight. How did I feel? It was beyond miserable. I could have cleared the first floor if I'd just gone a little further.

I trudged back down to the starting point. The boulder was waiting for me, reflecting the sunlight with a smooth surface.

"Argh!"

Bam!!

Unable to contain my frustration, I slammed my forehead against it. Bam, bam, bam!! I hit it, hit it, and hit it again. Maybe it was because the shadow cast on the rock reminded me of Hermes's face. I collapsed just as I started to feel dizzy from the bleeding. I stared into the eyes of the boulder for a long time.

"...Heh."

The smear of my blood looked just like a human face. I stood up and quickly drew a face before the blood could dry.

: )

"You need a friend wherever you are." My mother was right. "From now on, you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Wilson."

: )

Wilson looked happy, too. "Let's go together again, Wilson."

As I pushed with both arms, clatter. Wilson rolled along the ground, answering me. "Does this get easier the more you do it? It's pushing easier than before. Or are you helping me, Wilson?"

: )

What a good guy.