The Eagle and the Rocky Mountain

[That is not something I can do.]

So that was the answer I got, in the end.

Of course, I'd known there was a high probability the Curator would refuse.

Even so, I had gambled on a hope with no evidence behind it.

"…Is it beyond your reach because it's the Tower's power?"

[Hmm—]

The Curator placed a hand near where a chin would be, as if resting his jaw on it, and hummed.

[No. Something of this scale falls well within the scope of my authority.]

"Then—"

[But I decline.]

[For the sake of the beautiful performance that is about to unfold within this museum,]

[I shall bestow suffering.]

He could have simply said no. Instead, the Curator deliberately chose words designed to provoke me.

'To torment me. And before me, he must have tormented the other visitors who came through this way just the same.'

I wanted to channel Beethoven's soul this very moment.

I wanted to save them.

But Yang Myeonghyun, my ally, was standing against it.

The Curator reminds me, again and again, of how vital my bonus Perk is.

"Jisan-hyung…."

Ah. I came back to myself at the look of turmoil on Yang Myeonghyun's face.

I must have been biting my lip far too hard—blood trickled down, drip, drip.

"I have made my choice."

[Will you not deliver the ballet dancers from their suffering?]

"………"

Profit gained by turning my back on others.

And kindness offered at the cost of myself.

Caught between the two—

"…This ballet takes the Greek and Roman myth of Prometheus as its subject."

[………]

"The figure holding the sacred torch is Prometheus."

Prometheus.

The god who stole fire from the world of the gods to aid humanity.

In Greek and Roman myth, Zeus is the god who ruled the heavens.

Prometheus betrayed Zeus and drew down his wrath.

"That sacred torch was the fire of Prometheus."

Yang Myeonghyun nodded along, as if he'd already known the story, just as he'd said earlier.

Though he seemed to have no intention of guessing any further—neither the composer nor the title.

"Prometheus was bound in chains to a rocky mountain and condemned to the punishment of having his liver devoured by an eagle."

The wooden eagle suspended from the stage ceiling—that was that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very eagle.

"The way it unfolds is a little different from the story of Prometheus I know, but the depiction of the gods is unmistakable."

In this performance, Prometheus wasn't the only god to appear; a whole host of others took the stage as well.

Zeus, god of the heavens. Apollo, god of music. Dionysus, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠god of wine.

Overall, it depicted the sufferings of Prometheus and, at the same time, the world he built alongside the other gods to raise humanity up.

"In other words, you could call it the story of Prometheus sacrificing himself to advance humankind."

I wrapped up the summary simply and closed my eyes.

The explanation was over. Now I stood at the crossroads of choice.

'Here, I….'

"…That's all."

Perhaps my hanging head struck the Curator as interesting, because he glided smoothly up to me in an instant.

The hem of his robe rippled and flowed across the floor.

[My, my. Is that all? What of the title and the composer?]

"…Ludwig van Beethoven. The title is Prometheus."

[Oho.]

A contrived exclamation.

My resolve seemed to delight him immensely.

[Incorrect.]

I had squeezed out a title with the meager imagination available to me, and it was wrong, just as I'd feared.

[How shocking, Visitor Kim Jisan.]

[You have chosen the path of abandoning them.]

"………"

[Until someone comes who can name this ballet, they will continue to bleed as they perform.]

"…Stop it."

[And now it has become a truly rapturous performance.]

When the Curator calls a performance rapturous, it means it is cruel in the extreme.

I could have stopped that performance. I could have let the dancers rest, if only for a moment.

And yet I gave up. No—I chose not to.

For my own gain.

I kept my head fixed downward, unable to bear meeting Yang Myeonghyun's eyes on me.

[And for the sake of that very Visitor Kim Jisan, I shall tell you the name of this ballet.]

'What?'

Now, of all times, he reveals the title he would never teach me no matter how desperately I begged.

[Ludwig van Beethoven.]

[The Creatures of Prometheus Overture.]

[That is the answer.]

'Damn it! I was so close!!'

I had wracked my brain and gotten as far as 'Prometheus'—but I hadn't had the flexibility to append 'Creatures of' and 'Overture' on top of it.

Then again, that goes beyond flexibility and into the realm of specialist knowledge.

'I knew an overture was the piece that announces the start of a performance. But combining the title from nothing would have been nearly impossible.'

[Just as you deduced, Visitor Kim Jisan, not only Prometheus appears, but Apollo and Dionysus as well, lending humanity their aid.]

"………"

[It is a piece of magnificent, heroic melody.]

"If you were willing to tell me all that in the end, why did you hide it?"

[Because granting the dancers rest is not within my rights.]

"So only visitors can exercise power here?"

[No. It is simply that I have no need to exert myself. Did I not already tell you as much?]

The Curator swept both hands through the air like a conductor.

My knowledge was too shallow to tell whether he was truly conducting the piece or merely performing a shallow imitation of it.

[—So that a visitor might stage this cruel and beautiful performance with their own hands.]

The dancers danced to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Curator's conducting. I shut my eyes tight.

One way or another, I could feel how thoroughly the Curator was enjoying this situation.

The Tower created this cruel system, but the Curator in charge of the Museum could intervene at this scale, exactly as he'd said.

And yet he chose, deliberately, to torment a visitor—to torment me.

I opened my eyes again and faced the Curator head-on.

"Curator. I will climb to the 100th floor. Without fail."

[Fine resolve you have there.]

"And when I succeed in reaching the 100th floor, I will trample you into the ground."

I had thought staying in the Curator's good graces would make the climb easier. And that would have been the clever move, too.

[Do you truly believe you could lay a hand on me, the Curator of this museum?]

"It's not as if I'm talking about tearing the museum down—just stepping on one member of the staff. Surely that's fine."

I am not the kind of sharp operator who can extend goodwill, or even the pretense of it, to beings that harbor such foul hearts.

My aunt. The man I met during the Dragon King's envoy quest. The Curator.

Every one of them is worthless.

[How fascinating. Utterly fascinating.]

"………"

[Once again, I offer my applause for that burning sense of justice of yours.]

Clap, clap, clap—

The Curator offered up a perfunctory round of applause, then raised a Leaflet into the empty air and unfurled it.

[Now then.]

Flap—

Even having cleared the quest, my heart felt heavy.

Yang Myeonghyun seemed to be feeling much the same, fixing the Leaflet with a conflicted gaze.

He couldn't bring himself to look at the dancers—or at me, for that matter.

[Proceed to the 12th floor. Prometheus will be waiting for you.]

At a wave of the Curator's hand, a path opened through the backdrop wall at the rear of the stage.

A tunnel-like passage leading onward. To go that way, we would have to walk past the dancing performers.

…A design meant to torment the visitors to the very end.

Yang Myeonghyun and I mounted the stage with our heads fixed firmly down.

'Don't look at the dancers. Better not to look at all.'

Pitying glances from someone who couldn't help them anyway would be nothing but contemptible.

Just then, the ballet dancer in the role of Prometheus came toward us.

Not of his own will—his body was being drawn this way by the choreography.

"K-kill me, please—"

"…!!"

"I'm begging you…."

The man's voice scraped out of him, spent and wheezing.

Yet a smile spread across his lips even as he spat out that wretched plea.

Startled by his line, I froze mid-step for a moment.

But I bit my lip and pressed forward. It was the only thing I could do.

[Then, I shall see you on the 12th floor.]

Ignoring the Curator's voice behind us, Yang Myeonghyun and I walked on.

Past the creaking wooden boards, the backstage world unfolded before us.

Costumes and staging props lay strewn across the floor. And there, a wooden staircase appeared.

"………"

"………"

Every step onto the wooden stairs rang out with a groan of old timber.

Neither of us could manage a single word; we just kept walking.

"I'm sorry, Jisan-hyung."

It was Yang Myeonghyun who broke the silence first.

His heart must have been just as heavy as mine.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Yang Myeonghyun. This is the path I chose."

"………"

"Even if I'd granted them rest, as you argued, they'd only be forced into that agonizing dance again ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠before long."

Yang Myeonghyun blinked at me, as if my words had caught him off guard.

After all, until now I had always fought aggressively for a 'good outcome'—like the time I argued with him over Van Gogh's happiness.

But the meaning of that 'good outcome' had changed.

'An outcome whose effect is small compared to the cost of burning through my bonus Perk is… unnecessary.'

The most important thing to me is the climb.

And that is why… in this world, goodwill is worthless.

'I wanted to see the contradiction through, though.'

"I can't survive this tower on my own terms. That's all there is to it."

"Getting this far already makes you remarkable."

When I gave a bitter smile, Yang Myeonghyun immediately shook his head and objected.

"I don't think there's anyone else in the world like you, Jisan-hyung."

"I'm really not that impressive…?"

"No."

Yang Myeonghyun shook his head once more, firmly.

He was giving me an extravagantly generous assessment despite never having watched me for all that long.

And yet I took no pleasure whatsoever in Yang Myeonghyun's praise.

It wasn't as though I'd pursued goodness to show off my virtue. I just…

"Because that's the only talent I have…."

Ever since I was a child, the only thing I was ever good at was 'living decently.'

It never rose to the grandeur of an ability—so talent was probably the most fitting word for it.

'Not that I acted kind on purpose to brag about it.'

It was simply the one thing through which, living as myself, I'd ever had my value acknowledged by others.

An accidental talent, if you like.

"It isn't a talent. It's your nature."

"………"

"They say that when a human is driven to the absolute limit, their true nature shows. And your nature, Jisan-hyung, is not an ugly one."

Given how languidly he carried on, the phrasing came out oddly stilted.

Either way, I understood that Yang Myeonghyun saw me as a thoroughly good person. What a performance I'd put on.

"I'm not as good a person as you seem to think, Yang Myeonghyun."

"Is that so?"

"I, too, put myself first. Naturally."

'While prioritizing my own gain, I wanted to avoid sacrifice as much as possible.'

Because I climbed the tower on that kind of contradictory goodwill, this was how it ended—in things like this.

'Now that I'm climbing at the cost of other people, I have to find a way to turn back time somehow.'

I had resolved to do whatever it took for that goal. Which is why I couldn't apologize to the dancers.

Having already abandoned the option of Soul Rental, I had no right to apologize in the first place.

Flap, flap—

"?!!"

Just then came the sound of birds beating their wings.

The powerful downstrokes of wings launching into the sky.

And at the very moment we climbed the last of the wooden stairs to the rhythm of those beating wings—

we emerged into an entirely new outdoor world.

A barren mountain strewn with loose stones. Not a trace of green vitality anywhere—only gray rock in every direction.

Above it hung a sky the same color as the stone, thick with storm clouds—and across that sky, enormous eagles wheeled and circled.

"We've reached the rocky mountain."

I murmured in a low voice to Yang Myeonghyun.