Unfamiliar Ceiling
The voice that usually whispered about Knight Ellen, false light, and all the rest—guiding me along the slender thread of my downfall—was nowhere to be found. Shaaaa. Instead, the sound of running water greeted me. A faint noise leaking through a single thin wall. At the same moment, I realized: oh, that’s a shower faucet.
“An unfamiliar ceiling!”
I’d always wanted to deliver that line while sitting up. A tomb cave doesn’t exactly have a ceiling, after all. And the moment I opened my eyes, that was exactly what I saw. Looked like a studio apartment. A woman’s, at that. The whole room reeked of the particular scent that clings to girls living alone. Except this one’s life skills had been completely annihilated. The trash can in the corner had surrendered, vomiting out the wreckage of retort pouches and instant meals. I could feel the utter despair of someone who had never once turned on the gas stove in her own place. The bleak furnishings didn’t help. A thin, ancient mattress on a bed that creaked with every breath. Walls and window frames so pathetic they offered zero insulation or soundproofing. The only real furniture was a table doubling as a vanity and a single chair. Oh, and a tiny mini-fridge plus a dusty gas stove. So this is what a Corridor Walker’s solo apartment looks like in the Gallery City?
“Hmm.”
The armor standing in the corner and the clothes tossed carelessly across the table told me everything. This was Ellen’s room.
Still, the situation was suspicious as hell. I’d passed out and woken up in the apartment of a Corridor Walker I’d barely met. And the owner herself was currently showering in the bathroom. How the hell was I supposed to interpret that?
Easy. Green light.
I checked my clothes, stood up from the bed, and ran a hand through my hair. Not bad! My jaw had been shattered, sure, but everything seemed more or less back in place. I gave the sheets and blanket a quick dusting, ready to serve Ellen the rare delicacy known as Lumen Lux the moment she stepped out of the shower.
Except my brain, rotten as it was, still retained basic cognition and reasoning.
Judging by her personality, she’d probably dragged me here for questioning and treatment. That made more sense.
Shaaaa.
♪
Suddenly the sound of water mixed with music from a device inside the bathroom. Wasn’t she being a little too defenseless?
Gurgle.
Whatever. I was starving, so I opened the fridge. It was the first time I’d felt real hunger across all my regressions. Time for the Ellen Refrigerator Investigation!
“Why is it nothing but retort food and nutrition blocks? And who the hell puts canned goods in the fridge?”
I could sense Ellen’s tragically weak life skills—the kind that defaults to refrigerating everything. Cans. Instant meals. My affection for the contents of her fridge plummeted. Ugh, I’m so hungry.
While rummaging, I found pasta in the back. Still unopened.
“Plastic packaging? In this world’s setting?”
Then again, it made sense. They did say Dioramas ignored era and genre. And when you considered the Corridor City that connected those Dioramas, it fit even better.
Either way, my course was set.
Click.
The gas stove actually worked. Nice!
I focused on cooking for a while until I felt a presence behind me.
“What exactly are you doing?”
Shing.
The cold edge of a blade hovered beside my throat. A razor-sharp rapier. Ah, so that’s where the sword went. She took it into the shower with her?
I glanced back. There stood a half-damp Ellen, hair wrapped in a towel, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that left her legs bare. Inside me, the Ubermensch and the beast were having a violent tug-of-war.
Ah, calm down. She’s beautiful! A half-naked woman!
But, just like that philosopher drenched in madness once said, the biggest bastard inside me bit both of them to pieces. With the power of pure hunger.
“Let me have a taste before you stab me.”
“…What?”
“I worked hard on this! One bite won’t kill you!”
I was genuinely upset. When I turned around, the spaghetti in my frying pan glistened with an almost obscene shine, seducing me. I’d used the canned tomatoes and meat that had been slowly dying in Ellen’s fridge. Not bad for my first real attempt in decades. Or maybe centuries. Hunger doesn’t matter much to an immortal.
Only while cooking did I truly realize it. Damn, I really was starving. So this is what hunger feels like? Saliva flooding my mouth, stomach pumping digestive juices. That constant growling had tormented me the entire time I cooked. A new kind of pain. Maybe the weaker I got, the stronger other parts became.
I really didn’t want to die without tasting this beautiful dish.
“What the hell are you doing in someone else’s—”
Gurgle!
Ellen’s voice trailed off as her own stomach betrayed her. Our two empty stomachs were singing in perfect, miserable harmony. That must be what a chorus of starving insects sounds like. Both of us were heading toward the same goal.
Through the room’s only window, the dim twilight of dusk was falling. The lively laborers of the Corridor City were ending another day of earning and spending. Everyone hurrying home or unable to had their own emotions, but nearly all of them shared one common feeling: the hunger of life. You have to fill yourself with something to keep going. Food, desire, whatever. Even a Corridor Walker like Ellen was no exception.
And in her tiny studio, an aroma she probably never smelled was spreading.
Gurgle!
“Ugh.”
Ellen hunched over, covering her stomach.
“Grab some chopsticks and I’ll give you a bite.”
“…That’s my ingredient, you know?”
She glared, but I’d cooked it. What was she going to do about it?
…
“Slurp! Smack!”
“……”
And so an extremely bizarre meal took place across the single table in the studio. Me with my face practically buried in the plate, and Ellen eyeing the food with deep suspicion. But once the frying pan was half empty, her resistance collapsed. Eventually she picked up a fork and spoon and began eating properly.
Oho. Raised in a good family? That etiquette makes me curious about her background.
Meanwhile she muttered with obvious reluctance.
“It’s… good.”
“Slurp! What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
She looked genuinely confused. I mean, fair enough. We’d just been beating the crap out of each other. In my case, teeth and neck broken, various injuries. In hers, a slight scratch to her pride. We weren’t exactly at the “let’s sit down and eat together” stage.
But they say a true friend is a true enemy. A worthy opponent only makes you stronger! There was that ninja who always complained about lacking enough hatred, right? The reasoning was pointless and the leap was simple. We fought once, therefore we’re friends now.
Of course, I had my own reasons for acting this friendly.
I cleaned my plate and let out a satisfied groan.
“Ugh! Alright, now that we’ve eaten, let’s talk honestly.”
“You’re the only one who finished.”
“Why did you do that to me?”
“You’re not even listening.”
Ellen sighed and set down her fork. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh?”
“After looking into it, I realized it was my mistake. I was convinced you were a kidnapper—”
Her honest apology made my eyes sparkle. She’s way more of a pushover than I expected?
“Does ‘sorry’ make everything better?”
“What?”
When she went low, I went high. Perfect timing. I tapped the table sharply and her shoulders flinched.
“Come on! There’s something called basic courtesy! Because of your misunderstanding, my jaw and neck got broken! If a simple ‘sorry’ fixes everything, why do we even have the police!”
“B-but your attitude during the day was also—”
“I suggested we talk first! Ha, seriously! You’re the one who drew your sword and charged at me!”
“U-um…”
Ellen groaned. So she’s weak to being pushed. A little more pressure and she might even offer compensation. Then she suddenly tilted her head as if something felt off.
“Ellen? Are you talking about me?”
“Huh?”
My brain hit a speed bump. It felt like a few-second short had suddenly started buffering. Ah, crap. I hadn’t introduced myself yet. Hmm. A guy she just met today already knows her name? Suspicion usually starts from exactly these small inconsistencies. From the first chapter, your energy is impressive. Your ancestors must be angry. Do you believe in God? That kind of approach is outdated and low-class. What actually moves people is small goodwill that melts into everyday life and familiarity. But if that goodwill and familiarity has an ulterior motive? The sense of betrayal the other person feels is no joke.
In this case, we hadn’t built enough internal closeness for Ellen to feel truly betrayed, but it was still enough to add another layer to the wall between us. It was too late to recover smoothly.
“Yes, that’s what I called you. Why? Do you hate the name Ellen?”
“What…?”
“I call every woman I defeat Ellen.”
“Who did you def—”
“Come on, you lost to me. That’s why we’re having this little after-party, right? Ellen.”
“S-stop messing with me. And I’m not Ellen!”
The way she exploded showed she had more facial expressions than I’d expected. Words are ultimately tools for disruption. The curses and nonsense we spit out are just ways to disturb the opponent. Most of what an immortal says is aimed at worthy enemies, after all. In that sense, my nonsense was more than enough to momentarily paralyze Ellen.
But what did she just say? That she wasn’t Ellen? Was it an alias?
While I was briefly lost in thought, Ellen, who had been trembling with rage at my word choice, spat out:
“Who the hell is Ellen? Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Hmm, who is Ellen? She’s the name of my first love.”
“Wh-what?”
I dragged out the end of the sentence to buy time. Most of what I say is half-baked reasoning and nonsense. I had to think while talking.
“I bestow that name on women who unreasonably beat me up, as my own brand of respect and resentment.”
“That’s complete nonsense…”
“If you don’t like it, just tell me your real name. Oh, and I’m Lumen Lux, by the way.”
“Haa… I can’t communicate with you at all.”
She looked fed up. Even if she’d avoided suspicion, she clearly thought I was a weirdo. Her eyes toward me were anything but kind.
“How are your wounds?”
Instead, she seemed to decide to focus on my condition.
“They hurt. My neck’s broken and I’m missing teeth.”
“I know. That’s why I brought you here and treated you.”
“Heh, you did it yourself?”
“As if. I took you to the medical center and got your neck reattached.”
Ellen brushed her hair back. The annoyance on her face was obvious. I couldn’t help but laugh dryly. Just how much does this woman want to take losses? In this city, small acts of goodwill and kindness should be basically useless.
“Must’ve cost you, huh?”
“Cost me? I’m exhausted. I wasted a ton of mana for no reason.”
“Hmm. I honestly expected to wake up dead or in something like a jail cell.”
“Waking up after dying… you say some strange things.”
Ellen poked at her plate. Meanwhile I took another look around the room. I didn’t know what counted as normal housing in the Corridor City, but it didn’t look particularly well-off.
“If you’re feeling better, you should leave. I’ll offer a proper apology too.”
Ellen brought over a rather flat wallet as she spoke. She pulled out some money and handed it to me. A crumpled bundle of bills, saved little by little like a piggy bank, rested in her hand.
“The doctor said you need a week of rest. I don’t know what kind of work you do, but this should be enough to get by for a while.”
“Oho.”
A valuable apology paid in cash. Not shallow at all—in fact, it was a solution that filled both heart and wallet. If I were one of the Gallery City’s bottom-feeders, I should accept it with a huge grin. Throwing in some arrogant lecture about how people shouldn’t live like this would be the cherry on top.
But I am a cold immortal. I am not swayed by filthy lucre. What use is money anyway! Wait, it does have uses! Good food, meeting women! Adding to travel expenses for the journey toward my end! Money could be a necessary condition for enriching an immortal’s journey, but never sufficient. No, even discussing such conditions is an error. The satisfaction and deprivation of a rotten brain ultimately come down to the craving for nourishment that seeps into mind and body. Something that can fill me and let me move on. For me, that would be the Gallery or Ellen’s survival, I suppose.
To achieve that, I needed to earn Ellen’s favor or at least leech off her.
I clicked my tongue.
“Tsk tsk. So you think money solves everything?”
“I think you’ve misunderstood. This is my own way of showing sincerity and apologizing.”
“I’m saying that apology isn’t enough. I just arrived in this Corridor City, got robbed by Tosuni, then some female knight shows up, snaps my neck, and I’m supposed to live in this harsh environment?”
Ellen looked like she was desperately enduring my words. In short, she couldn’t bear listening anymore. She probably felt like she’d gotten tangled up with a crazy person.
“So what do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? Perform a dogeza or something?”
“That would be nice to see, but honestly I’d settle for you letting me stay a few days.”
“…What?”
Her visible disgust was impressive. Hmm. Am I that bad? I, Lumen, am slightly hurt. So I decided to clutch the back of my neck pathetically.
“Ugh!? My chronic neck bone disease is acting up!”
“You don’t have anything like that! Stop talking nonsense!”
During our brief scuffle she threatened me, coaxed me, and tried to soothe me. But I was a newborn immortal who had just come back to life. My spirit, though shabby, was formidable. In the end, when I lay flat on the floor clutching my neck, she gave up with an angry sigh.
“Aaaargh! Fine! Do whatever you want!”
“Oh yeah!”
And that was how my sudden cohabitation with Ellen began.