En Pointe
“…Beautiful?”
[Yes. It is a beautiful performance.]
I stared blankly at the stage, my mind reeling from the Curator's words.
The dancers still had not stopped their feet, showcasing technique after ballet technique.
With every turn they took, the blood streaming from their feet traced a fresh circle across the stage floor.
I wanted desperately to make them stop. Swallowing down the rising ache in my chest, I glared at the Curator.
“They can't even rest, and their feet are bleeding. And that's what you call a beautiful performance?”
[That is ballet.]
“…?”
[To execute the techniques you saw in that performance flawlessly, dancers must practice without end.]
[Rest is a luxury.]
The Curator extended a hand toward the ballerina dancing at the center of the stage.
She stood on one leg, her foot pointed so that it formed a perfect right angle with the floor.
Then, from inside her foot, came a sharp crack — and blood welled over.
“?!!”
[To perform en pointe — standing on the very tips of the toes — a ballet dancer's feet become covered in bruises, blisters, and bleeding wounds.]
“…….”
[In severe cases, the toenails come off entirely.]
That had been the sound of bones snapping. Of toenails tearing free.
Too drained to argue any longer, I could only stare at the ballerina with a hollow expression.
Injured as she was, she was still holding the en pointe position.
No one could do that of their own will. She was being controlled, like a marionette dangling from strings.
[A stage built from that suffering — that is the art you marveled at, Visitor Kim Jisan.]
No. I never wanted to marvel at something like that. If there must be pain, it should mean something only when it comes from passion pursued of one's own will—
Was I wrong, though? The dancers' feet were soaked in blood either way.
Van Gogh had expressed a world entirely his own through loneliness and despair.
Was pain… justified in art?
[Art is more beautiful the crueler it is — that is what I was trying to tell you.]
Someone like me, who never immersed himself deeply in art, wouldn't understand.
I mocked myself, remembering how I had found the performance beautiful when I first watched it.
[This ballerina and this danseur have been performing since the Tower was first built, up until this very moment. Veterans who have never once rested.]
“Hah…! So they aren't actual visitors, then.”
[Whoops. I meant since the second performance.]
That lunatic.
Unlike the systems that had been born alongside the Tower, these dancers had been formed from visitors who had failed their climb.
That they had replaced the dancers with human parts beginning from the second performance could only mean one thing.
They did it to torment the visitors who come to watch the stage.
“…Every other system disappears once its quest ends. Why can't this one do the same? Make it so these dancers vanish too, once the quest is over!”
[Visitor Kim Jisan. Must you keep slipping into such rude speech whenever your temper flares—]
“Now!”
[There are conditions for rest.]
At my badgering, the Curator wagged a raised index finger from side to side.
Theirs was an existence doomed to repeat this agonizing performance forever — I wanted to help them, even if only by letting death grant them a moment's rest.
[The visitors must correctly identify the piece performed on this 11th floor.]
“Someone who identified the piece must have already climbed to the next floor, no?”
[No. The quest objective of Floor 11 is to identify the story of this ballet.]
[For the dancers to be granted rest, the piece and its composer must both be named.]
“…….”
[Ponder it carefully.]
The Curator clasped its hands together and stepped back a pace.
Was it giving us room to discuss?
An answer and a choice that were deceptively simple. It resembled the 4th-floor exhibition.
It was built so that we could reach the 12th floor quickly — so long as we didn't try to save the dancers.
“Jisan-hyung. I've figured out what the story is.”
Yang Myeonghyun spoke first.
“It seems to be a story from Greco-Roman myth.”
“…….”
“I see you already know the answer as well, Jisan-hyung.”
I nodded at him.
The wooden eagle suspended by a wire from the ceiling of the stage.
The male dancer being attacked by that eagle.
And the taper of sacred fire gripped in the male dancer's hand.
Taking the dancers' costumes into account as well, there was only one possible answer — that particular story from Greco-Roman mythology.
“So both Yang Myeonghyun and I know the story.”
“The problem is the musician and the title of the piece.”
“I've made a rough guess about the musician as well.”
“…Didn't you say you didn't know what the song was?”
“I did. This is pure guesswork, but I made a deduction about the composer. …I think it might be Beethoven.”
I deliberately threw out the name Beethoven in a hurry, then studied the Curator.
The Curator didn't so much as twitch, as if it had neither heard me nor cared to.
My attempt to fish out the answer through it had failed completely.
Not that my deduction is wrong.
“Every floor of this Tower has always shared a point of connection with the ones before it. Whether the theme or the artist, the story never jumped to something entirely unrelated.”
“The Gates of Hell and the Skeleton Monster. The Sugungga and the Dragon King's tale. Van Gogh and Beethoven. I see.”
Yang Myeonghyun recited the themes of our quests so far, sounding impressed.
All of the subjects had been linked to one another, floor by floor.
But whether Beethoven had ever composed ballet music, even I wasn't sure.
When I'd pulled up information on Beethoven through my Docent before, no ballet compositions had come up.
A ballet piece from the Greco-Roman era. Is my deduction right — is it really Beethoven's work?
“If Jisan-hyung's deduction holds and Beethoven is the musician, all that remains is the title of the piece.”
“…….”
No matter how far back I searched my memory, no Beethoven ballet came to mind.
The odds that I could improvise a title and get it right… were slim, at best.
“Curator. If I identify the piece and the dancers disappear — what happens after that?”
[A rest once granted cannot be snatched away again. A death that has been released once is free forever.]
“Speak plainly. So from then on, they won't suffer like this with blood pouring from their feet, and they can be deleted whenever visitors finish the quest?”
In place of a head it did not have, the Curator's severed neck bobbed up and down.
There was no preventing their fate of performing.
But once a visitor finished the quest, they could rest in a state of dissolution until the next visitor arrived.
This time, for once, I can use Soul Rental. I'll borrow Beethoven's soul and learn the title of the piece.
Through my additional Perk, Soul Rental, I would have Beethoven's soul channel itself into my body.
Then Beethoven would surely recognize what this music was.
And even if this ballet weren't Beethoven's work at all, he was a genius musician — far more likely than either of us to know the right answer.
“Yang Myeonghyun. Let me figure it out.”
“…?”
Though in truth it wouldn't be me figuring it out, but a borrowed soul doing the work.
Beethoven would understand how I felt, surely.
I took a deep breath and, in my mind, invoked the words of my Perk, Soul Rental.
Soul Rental, activate. Ludwig van—
And then—
“Ugh!!”
Out of nowhere, Yang Myeonghyun shoved me lightly in the chest.
It hadn't taken much strength, but the attack was so sudden that my body went tumbling back helplessly.
Knocked backward, I landed hard on my rear end on the floor.
Incredulous, I rounded my eyes and looked up at him.
“What do you think you're doing…?!”
“I'm sorry. I couldn't think of any other way to stop you, Jisan-hyung.”
What is this…?
“You were about to use a Tool or a Perk, weren't you?”
“…That's right.”
Quick on the uptake.
When I'd taken that deep breath, Yang Myeonghyun had clearly caught on — that I was about to bring out something that could change the whole board.
“Fine. Do as you please, Jisan-hyung.”
“Then why did you—”
“You don't need to tell me what Tool it is, or what Perk. But answer me just this one thing.”
Yang Myeonghyun let out a long sigh and looked at me with a grave expression.
“That thing — like your Docent Perk — can you use it without limit?”
At his quiet question, I hesitated.
Should I be honest here? Or conceal it?
There had been odd friction between me and Yang Myeonghyun ever since the Van Gogh quest. I'd even suspected him once.
But if I hid the fact that my additional Perk had limits now, it would only breed fresh problems later.
If I lied and claimed Soul Rental was unlimited, using Beethoven's power right now would become impossible.
Later, when Yang Myeonghyun suggested borrowing Beethoven's soul again, the lie would come apart.
And then the fragile alliance that had held us together until now would shatter.
If trust collapsed completely during a quest the two of us were carrying through together—
Right. Since I don't fully trust Yang Myeonghyun anyway, it's better to tell the truth.
Our relationship was too flimsy to survive the fallout of a lie caught out in the open.
I rose to my feet and opened my mouth again, prying it free from the resolve that had kept it shut.
“…No.”
“I don't know what your thresholds are, but in any case — it has limits.”
A single, very faint crease formed between Yang Myeonghyun's brows.
“Then I can't leave this to your discretion, Jisan-hyung.”
“…?!”
I'd had a feeling, and I'd been right.
He'd shoved me to stop me from using my Perk.
Why?
“You formed an alliance with me, Jisan-hyung. So you should consider my opinion as well.”
“…I never said I wouldn't. I only thought our hearts were in the same place on this — that we both wanted to give these dancers their rest.”
Yang Myeonghyun was a man who cherished not only himself but others too.
It was why he'd been the first to recognize the worth of my sacrificed ear.
I'd assumed our hearts would align this time as well. Yet here he was, standing against it.
“You are a man rich in knowledge of art, Jisan-hyung. That is precisely why your abilities are precious.”
“…But if we don't stop these people right now—”
“They are not people.”
Yang Myeonghyun pronounced the word people with peculiar, deliberate force.
There was something in his tone that sent a faint chill through me.
“They are Components.”
“…They were people. They were visitors. If you and I fail, that is the fate waiting for us.”
“But they are no longer human, are they? Even if they're granted rest, they are Components that will simply be summoned back the moment a new visitor arrives.”
“If even a brief rest could stop that bleeding, I believe it would mean something. Is your compassion reserved for humans alone?”
“Broadly speaking, yes.”
“…….”
I had no answer.
I realized then that Yang Myeonghyun's standard and mine weren't merely subtly different — they were fundamentally, completely at odds.
That beings who had once been human could fall entirely outside his circle of care, simply because they had become parts belonging to the Tower.
[Visitor Kim Jisan.]
When our argument dragged on, the Curator apparently grew bored and cut into the conversation.
It even yawned, mid-way through saying my name.
[You have climbed this Tower cherishing others all this while.]
[And yet you have never once sacrificed your own interests.]
“…….”
[Think very carefully.]
My interests… my climb, in service of my wish.
[What will you do this time?]
“…….”
[Let me prophesy with certainty: your additional Perk, being bound by limits, will only grow more precious the higher you climb.]
The Curator had gone and revealed on its own that my ability was an additional Perk.
Presumably to keep our conversation from stretching any longer.
A hollow laugh escaped me before I steadied my expression again.
And then I bowed my head toward the Curator.
“Curator. I'm begging you.”
[…Begging me for what, exactly?]
“Let their feet rest. It has nothing to do with the quest's answer, does it?”
I pleaded with the Curator, without using my ability.
Inside this cruel Tower, an appeal to emotion was nothing more than a child's tantrum.
And still — one last time — I wanted to stake everything on hope.
If I begged this desperately, wouldn't the Curator mock me and, in its perverse delight, grant my request anyway?
“Please. I'm begging you.”