Shut Up and Lurk

"What the hell is this..."

Not a status window. Not an inventory. So why was a gallery just floating up in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world?

...Nobody else can see this, right?

I turned my head and scanned the street around me.

"..."

The looks people gave me didn't seem to have changed.

Good. So it's only me. Or else...

Or it showed itself only to people in the same mess I was in—people who'd possessed bodies inside this game. Either way, it wouldn't be a real problem.

"First, let's see what this place even is."

On streams and community boards there's a saying everybody knows. Shut up, and lurk for three years. These days the span has worn down to three months, sometimes three days, but the point never changed. Read the room before you open your mouth.

"Notices first..."

I was crouched in a corner, flicking my hand through the air, when a roar of voices carried in from far off.

"...Kill them!"

"...!"

"...Disgusting... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠follower...!"

"...Hm?"

They were shouting loud enough. Distance, maybe, but I still couldn't make out the words.

"...Guess I'll go take a look."

I dismissed the blue screen and headed straight toward the noise.

"Huh. So this is Roden Square."

The moment I muttered it, the people around me started glaring and pinching their brows. Occupational hazard of being a beggar, I figured. Even back in reality, the mood curdles the second a beggar makes himself known right beside you. Filthy. Not the slightest use to anyone.

"Henceforth, the execution of the criminal Lucent Adora shall be carried out!"

Those looks vanished the instant the voice of the man on the platform ahead rolled across the square.

"The criminal stands in this place under the charge of being a witch's follower!"

"...A witch?"

I'd never heard that word once while playing Story of Top. Mages, sure. Whores, all the time. Was witch even a class? Hell, maybe it was just short for mage-whore...

"Criminal. Your final words?"

At that, the woman kneeling beside him lifted her head.

"I don't even know who the witch is!"

"...Tsk. You have been brought this far, and still you deal in lies."

The man on the platform scowled, then pressed on.

"At every moment you spill mutterings to yourself. You repeat words no other soul can comprehend. You stare into empty air and hold converse with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠someone. You make strange gestures where no one stands—"

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

Wait. Isn't that me he's describing?

If the things I'd been doing had drawn suspicion, I might have been the one kneeling up there.

"You claim you are no witch's follower? If those acts were not communion with a witch, then what, pray, were they!"

"That wasn't contacting a witch, it was the Possessor Gallery—"

"More strange words! They rot the ear! I will hear no more!"

As he finished, guards in steel plate climbed onto the platform and seized the woman by both arms.

"L-let go of me!"

"Thrash all you like, it will avail you nothing! Those shackles and that collar are wrought entirely of anti-magic stone!"

"I said let go! I don't know anything about any witch!"

"Lies to the very last...! What are you standing there for! Bind this wench to the block at once, and executioner—take her head!"

"Yes, sir!"

Only when the guards lashed her arms and neck to the block did her face change, as if the situation had finally sunk in.

"N-no...! Possessors, please, help me! Look, you can see the gallery, right? I'm a possessor too! Please!"

That single sentence told me two things. The gallery floating in front of my eyes was something only I could see. And this woman had possessed a body in this world so recently she didn't even know that.

"Cut that bitch's head off! Now!"

"N-no...!!! You bastards, somebody save me—"

Thud!

A dull crack, like an axe biting wood, rang out of the woman's neck. The fountain of blood shooting into the sky came free of charge.

It was the first time I'd watched a person's head come off, and it was not the clean ending I'd pictured.

"Ghk... gurgh..."

"Cut! Faster! There's no telling what a witch might do!"

"Yes, sir!"

Thud. Thud.

Only after the axe blade had hammered that slender neck again and again did head and body finally come apart.

"...Tsk. She would not confess her sin, even at the end."

"..."

"The execution is concluded! Should any among you suspect a witch's follower, report them to me, Robert Steiner, Inquisitor of the Daina Order! That is all!"

With the man's proclamation, the crowd scattered.

"..."

I kept my mouth shut, slipped quietly out of the square, and went back to the street where I'd been begging only a little while ago.

"...Haa."

That tight sigh came with three resolutions. First, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the muttering I'd been spilling out of habit would happen only when I was alone. Second, I would keep the words I'd used in Korea behind my teeth whenever I could. And the third...

Screen, turn off already. You trying to get me killed?

Gallery-diving would happen only where no one was around. And it wasn't just the gallery I had to watch myself with. Over there, the worst you got was a thirty-day ban. Here, your head actually came off.

When I first realized I'd possessed a body in Story of Top, I'd honestly been a little glad. In the comics and web novels about falling into a game, most people make escaping the game their goal.

...Do I really have to?

Me, I'd figured living in the world of Story of Top would actually be better. Go back to reality and all I did was eat, shit, and play Story of Top. With even that game shut down for good, what reason did I have to return? Story of Top was my life, and my life was Story of Top.

Cut the bullshit. Story of Top, my ass.

Of course, that thinking was dead by day one of the isekai. Now, on day two, the only thought in my head was that I had to get back to Korea no matter what. The first reason was the execution I'd watched at lunch yesterday. And the second...

"You little son of a bitch! A punk who can bring in this much, and yesterday you came back with that garbage? You fucking skimmed it yesterday, didn't you!"

"Aaaagh!"

"Tell the truth even now and I'll let it slide. Did you skim, or didn't you?"

"I brought back everything I got, how many times do I have to—"

"This little shit, talking back!"

"Agh!"

Because of this brat named Lakins, who was beating me like a dog in the dog days of summer for the insane reason that I'd brought back too much money.

Bring back too little, and he hit me for bringing back too little. Bring back a lot, and he hit me for bringing back a lot. Of all the bastards under heaven, there wasn't another bastard like this one.

"Ugh... aaagh..."

"Hoo... haa... There. You all saw that, right? When you collect, you do it right. Every last coin, not a single one missing. Otherwise... this is what happens!"

Lakins, boss of the beggar brats, said that—and then drove his foot into my stomach one more time.

"Aaaagh!"

The fuck was the extra hit for.

"Hoo... Get lost. Looking at you makes me sick."

"Urgh... y-yes..."

You fucking little shit. I don't care about the others. Once I get strong, I am paying you back.

"Dismissed, all of you!"

"Dismissed!"

After the other beggar kids left the kitchen, I stayed down a while longer, and only once the sense of people nearby had faded did I crawl back to my room. By my room, of course, I mean a tiny one-room hovel with nothing in it but the straw they used in the stables, and a roof that was half open to the sky. A room to myself was a blessing, if you could call it that.

...By now there shouldn't be anyone around, right?

Yesterday I'd been too busy watching my back to turn the gallery on. I'd only just learned, yesterday, that this was my room, and that after the evening meal the only things that happened were getting bullied or sleeping. Nobody else to run into.

...Notices first.

Buried in the straw, I moved my hand and pulled up the board.

"..."

What should I check first? The answer was number one, the Newbie Guide. I could know Story of Top inside and out and still be short on this world. Just yesterday a witch—something I'd never once heard of in the game—had come out of nowhere.

"..."

Fuck. How did they know?

"...Hm?"

The more I read, the more something felt off.

No. Not this...

Wouldn't it be a hell of a lot easier to understand if they just said this was the world inside a game called Story of Top?