Chapter 3: Torso

The statue draped in a robe so long it trailed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠along the floor had no head.

A clean cross-section of neck, and skin of a smooth, milky white. It was made of plaster.

Every time the statue walked and swung its arms, its grayish-green robe billowed in waves.

Is it a costume? The proportions of the body are far too perfect for someone to be hiding a head under that robe. There's nowhere a head could even fit. And….

Perhaps it was because I was seeing a work I'd only ever encountered in books with my own eyes. Even in the middle of all this, I couldn't tear my gaze away.

Looking at the delicate rendering of the neck, I found myself wondering how the arms hidden beneath the robe must have been sculpted.

[I will now summon the visitors once more for your briefing.]

Shfff—

Following the statue's words, another familiar chime rang out.

And then the visitors who had vanished before my eyes reappeared all at once.

"Wh-what?! What is this!"

Everyone seemed to be in the same situation as me — they looked at one another and cried out in shock.

Their faces were as pale as plaster.

A few of them went so far as to point openly at the statue.

"What is that thing…? Where is that voice even coming from?"

"Well — isn't it someone in a costume?"

[Who can say.]

The statue gave a noncommittal shrug of its shoulders.

Perhaps because of the exaggerated gesture, its emotions were easy to read even without a face.

[You all trusted this system enough to speak your deepest, most hidden wishes out loud, did you not?]

[And now, suddenly, you're suspicious?]

"……"

"……"

Everyone must have made a wish as sincere as mine, because the exhibition hall fell silent in an instant.

The statue shrugged once more, then pointed a finger at itself.

[Care to guess my name? I'll give a prize to any visitor who gets it right.]

"What? Out of nowhere it's handing out prizes, what the hell…."

While people spat curses, I sank into thought.

I don't know whether that thing is a costume or not, but given what just happened inside my head, this is nothing to brush off.

Anyone could see that statue was tied to this museum.

A prize from the administrator of a museum that grants wishes. I racked my brain fast.

The proceedings were quite faithful to the museum concept.

A headless statue made of plaster.

That's it. I have to interpret this as art and solve the problem.

If the name were something intuitive, the answer would be simple.

While the others tilted their heads in confusion, I hastily jumped in first.

"Torso."

Every visitor's gaze swung toward me.

[…And your reasoning?]

"Torso means trunk in Italian."

[……]

"It started as statues made in imitation of the body-only figures excavated from ancient ruins. Greek and Roman ruins."

I dredged up the memories I had buried away and stumbled on through my explanation.

Maybe because my thoughts weren't properly organized, the order of my words was a mess.

But the name torso and its definition — those I was certain of.

"You're wearing clothes, but you can't hide the plaster. And on top of that, that lifelike expressiveness. Those arms too — they'd have been carved with exact proportions and musculature to bring out the beauty of the human body in dramatic fashion. Ah, of course, torso means trunk, but since you have arms, you could be considered a variant of the form—"

Midway through reciting the beauty of the torso, I shut my mouth. I had read the way the visitors around me were looking at me far too late.

As I talked, the memories kept surfacing, and I had ended up explaining far too much.

Oh no. They're giving me that glazed-over, fed-up look, aren't they.

Standing there lecturing about art appreciation in the middle of a situation this surreal — of course they thought I was strange.

Embarrassed, I hurried to wrap things up.

"In any case — you are a torso."

After my deduction, only silence hung over the exhibition hall.

Everyone simply waited for the statue's answer.

The statue's body didn't so much as twitch toward me.

Before long, it slowly raised its index finger.

[Correct—]

"!!"

[—is what I'd love to say, but I'm afraid not. Wrong answer.]

Deflated sighs rose from all around.

Someone, apparently relieved, even let out a light laugh.

Damn it. Don't tell me there's a penalty for a wrong answer…?

[Visitor Kim Jisan. Please don't worry.]

[That was a trial quiz, so there's no penalty.]

Whether it had read my mind or not, the statue reassured me at once.

It felt like it had seen straight through me with some transcendent ability, which only made me more uneasy.

[My name is.]

[Curator.]

[That is all.]

What?

[I am the same as every curator in the world.]

[I handle the management and planning of this tower's exhibitions, among a very great many other duties.]

[Ah. I also serve as a guide for visitors, you know.]

In other words, it was a being not merely tied to the Museum of Wishes, but of administrator rank itself.

"Then why on earth are you going around looking like that? If you're not that torso whatever-it-is, hurry up and take off the costume."

[There is a reason I take the form of a torso.]

[This museum embraces every manner of art, from antiquity to the modern day. I am a living witness to all of it.]

"…What is that even supposed to mean?"

A middle-aged man, who had been frowning at the Curator's cross-sectioned neck, shut his mouth at once.

There was no getting through to the Curator, who only recited whatever it pleased to say.

[My name is Curator. And yet — as visitor Kim Jisan said, I am a torso. A statue reduced to nothing but a body, you might say.]

[The plaster dust keeps flaking off my legs, which is also a bit of a problem.]

The Curator brushed the hem of its robe with its hand.

At the same time, white plaster dust swirled up, and my throat went dry and chalky.

"Hahk— what. Is that neck actually plaster?"

"They must've painted something onto skin. Even if I believe it, this kind of prank…"

It was hard to believe a headless, walking, talking statue was real.

Everyone had made their wishes half in doubt, but even so — surely that thing wasn't an actual statue.

"Hold on."

Amid the stirring crowd, one woman raised her hand.

She was carrying a backpack the size of a wardrobe, so she looked like a college student.

No, wait. Are there college students who lug a backpack around on weekends? But she doesn't look like a high schooler either.

Stop. Now is not the time for that kind of guessing.

"One minute it's a museum, then it's a tower. Could you give us a proper explanation?"

[Visitor Jang Siwoon. An excellent question.]

Despite the praise, the woman only wore an indifferent expression.

She looked young, but… she was considerably calmer than the other visitors.

[This place is the Museum of Wishes, one hundred stories tall.]

[In other words — it is both a museum and a tower.]

One hundred floors…?

[The museum's doors open only to visitors with desperate, genuine wishes.]

[You, who received an invitation — you must have wished very, very desperately.]

It sounded like an actor delivering a line to a single audience member.

When in truth, it was an opportunity granted to every single visitor here.

The Curator made it sound as though I were someone special.

[There are countless humans who harbor desperate wishes.]

[But if every human's wish came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠true, this world could not, unfortunately, continue to exist.]

[Moreover, the museum is not a god, and so it cannot choose among humans.]

Just then, the Leaflet floating in midair flew into the Curator's hand.

The Curator rolled the Leaflet up as it continued.

[And so, the museum grants only the wishes of visitors who complete their objectives.]

Can I really go back ten years? If I just complete the objective…?

"What exactly is this objective?"

[Look here.]

The middle-aged man who had been glaring at the Curator earlier pressed for the explanation.

Whereupon the Curator flung the rolled-up Leaflet into the air and let it hover.

Shfff—

Text lined up across the Leaflet, which had grown as large as a banner.

One hundred floors felt impossibly high — but with a reward like that, anything seemed worth it.

"About that failure part. What does it mean to 'belong to the tower'?"

[Parts are disassembled. And sometimes, reassembled.]

"No — nobody asked what the word means! I'm asking how you belong!!"

As a visitor shouted in frustration, a chill ran down my spine.

Parts. Parts that are taken apart and then fused back together. And….

My gaze turned to the Curator's hands.

A torso is a statue of the body alone. But as I'd explained a moment ago, the Curator was different from an ordinary torso.

He had two whole hands capable of holding the Leaflet.

[Failed eliminees are disassembled. And sometimes, reassembled. For the sake of this tower. No—]

[Used, as the tower's raw material, for the sake of other visitors who wish for their desires and climb its floors.]

The Curator raised a hand that had been hidden beneath its sleeve and showed it to the visitors.

I widened my eyes. I had wondered how the hands would be sculpted.

…What is that?

Unlike the plaster of the body, the Curator's hands were the soft, fleshy skin of a human.

As the hand was raised high, the wide robe sleeve slid all the way down to the Curator's shoulder.

"KYAAAAAK—!!"

Beneath the Curator's plaster shoulder, a human arm had been artificially attached.

It was all the more grotesque because the thickness of the joint didn't quite match.

People covered their mouths and screamed.

[Even when disassembled, a part's ego is preserved.]

[Infinitely.]

[Eternally.]

"Ah, goddamn it! Cut it out and just let us out already!"

"Mister, stop screaming! Can't you read the situation?! This is real!!"

The panicked visitors began fighting amongst themselves.

After seeing the Curator's arm, some had even collapsed to the floor, sobbing.

I roughly wiped my sweat-soaked face with the back of my hand.

I was pretending to be calm, but there was no hiding the way my legs trembled.

[Well then, dear visitors. Let us meet on the second floor.]

[As you walk through the forest, abandon all hope — and keep the torso company.]

A forest, of all things — I had no idea what that meant.

Then the Curator and the Leaflet swirled together in a vortex and vanished, clean away.

The moment the Curator disappeared, people looked around in confusion, and then all hell broke loose.

"Are they insane? I'm going back!"

"Waaah…! Where's the exit supposed to be?! Someone find it!!"

"Everyone, quiet! We have to grant our wishes, don't we!"

…I have to climb.

I ignored the uproarious crowd and clenched my fist.

There was no option to escape anyway.

At this point, the only way was to somehow reach the hundredth floor no matter what, and make my wish.

"Excuse me."

From behind me, that college-student-looking woman with the backpack murmured.

Jang Siwoon, her name was. Probably.

"This really isn't a hidden camera prank, right?"

"Asking me won't get you anywhere. I'm a participant too."

"Fair enough. A headless plaster statue just showed off human arms, so I guess I'd better believe it now."

Jang Siwoon scratched her head and sighed.

Unlike me, pathetically shaking in my knees, her composure was practically a national treasure.

Hm…?

Just then, I noticed her fingers trembling, ever so slightly.

Only because her eyes looked so utterly indifferent had I been fooled.

No matter how calm you tried to act, in a situation like this, everyone had to be feeling the same things.

Scared.

Terrified.

And yet, desperate all the same.

Of course, I was no different.

If I fail even once on the way up to the hundredth floor, won't I be disassembled too — just like that arm?

It might be better if my mind got shredded along with the body.

Being used as a part of the tower while your ego persists forever — there was no crueler punishment than that.

Just then, a sudden flash of intensity ignited in Jang Siwoon's calm eyes.

"But how does all that knowledge just pour out of you? It doesn't seem like anyone here knows the first thing about art."

"I just read a lot of books about art when I was young, that's all."

Knowledge I'd tried to erase from my memory. And the day it comes in handy actually arrives.

From elementary school through high school, I'd buried myself in the library at every spare moment, reading books on art.

Even when my friends jeered at me to come play soccer, I didn't care.

I had no money to buy books, and no cram school, so my time overflowed.

Besides, I hadn't wanted to go home, either.

Back then, passing the hours in the library had been the greatest pastime I had.

"Really? Should've read a few books myself. Sounds like it'll come in handy from here on."

Jang Siwoon grumbled in a low voice, regretful.

Even if her knowledge is lacking, she judges fast. She's already guessing that the quests ahead will revolve around art.

My own thoughts matched Jang Siwoon's guess exactly.

Given the name "museum" and the Curator's appearance, of course the quests would follow that same current.

Kuuuuuguuuung—

"?!!"

With a thunderous roar, the ground shook.

Cracks split open across the floor, and everyone descended into pandemonium.

And in the blink of an eye, an unbelievable scene unfolded before us.

"What is this…"

Jang Siwoon's mouth hung wide open, as if she couldn't believe it even with her own eyes. I felt exactly the same.

The hard concrete ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walls and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠floor were gone, and a dark, shadowy forest stretched out before us.

An illusion…? It's far too late to doubt that now.

The grass brushing against my feet was heavy with the damp of night dew.

The soil and grass crushed underfoot, the small pebbles. Even the dense trees veiling the night sky.

Everything before my eyes was real.

"So this is the forest the Curator mentioned."

I too, dazed, kept running my fingers through the grass, facing the reality of it.

There had been a reason the Curator bothered to mention a forest at the end, when it told us to meet on the second floor.

At last, the map for the quest had been made.