Dusk (1)
'Still far?'
Imir sat lost in thought, his size so vast it spanned the space between galaxies.
So enormous he was beyond light—so enormous that even blinking an eye would be slower than his motion….
There was no gravity.
'That's the problem.'
He had forced his gigantification ability to its limit to keep his neck and limbs from being torn apart.
'Even the smallest particles that could be called matter have been severed. In this state, it's difficult to exert force.'
And yet he could.
So long as the Ultima of ten billion Gaia recognized him as Imir.
"Krrrgh!"
Power began to seep into certain parts of his body—bodies made only of signals—little by little.
'A pathetic planet…' The signal that would define force had spread over thirty percent of his body, but escape was still far off.
'Damn it. Come on, come on.' The moment the power signal touched it, the planet Omangseong would crumble like dust.
'I only need to break one.'
So thirty percent was a realistic figure.
"Kekeke."
He might be freed this instant, a miracle, or it might take much longer.
'Wait.'
That moment, too, would come in the not‑too‑distant future.
It had already been three years since he'd been living in the dream world Ruber had made.
Of course, that was their understanding. Shirone still stared out at the sea, and Gaold's party came by far less often.
The only recent change was that his hair had started to grow—slowly becoming long.
Back then Gaold's party had argued heatedly but found no satisfactory answer.
Ruber had said this.
"The hair growing means he's begun to accept the dream's time. But he still doesn't sleep or eat. No one—perhaps not even Lord Odaeseong himself—can say what his mind's state is."
Maybe not even Shirone knew. The endless, repeating sound of waves seemed the only thing telling him a story.
And then, at one moment—
"Aaah?????"
Shirone's mouth opened for the first time in three years.
Gaold's party—busy with their livelihoods—weren't here, but Ruber nearly fainted from surprise.
Monga shouted.
"Did you hear that? A moment ago Lord Odaeseong…!"
"Shh."
Shirone rose slowly and pointed toward the boundless sea.
"Imir…."
Ruber followed the fingertip with his gaze.
Dozens of small boats rowed toward the shore.
"This can't be."
The 1.5th layer Mongin had made was impregnable—even to the owner of the mind.
Monga's voice trembled.
"Could it… be breached? There were a hundred of them."
"That seems to be the case."
What Ruber had overlooked was that the dream's owner—the one with the Ultima—was Imir.
"Run, now!"
Ruber shook his head without taking his eyes off the sea.
"Calm down. It's true the 1.5th layer's boundary was pierced, but that doesn't mean Imir entered. Even an Ultima can't just barge into another's mind at will."
"Then why?"
"Because… the strength of persuasion is enormous."
When ten billion people agree, can the lone remaining person shout "No" and be heard?
"But Ruber, you're strong too."
"Exactly. That's why this happened. I must have been persuaded by an extremely tiny difference."
Only then did Monga's expression change.
"What's the mechanism of persuasion?"
"Empathy. Accepting and recognizing this world. Ten billion people passed that motion, and—"
"So it was those hundred who slipped in that way."
They were one‑in‑a‑hundred‑million Ultima, but there was no denying the 1.5th layer had been breached.
"Let's go have a look."
As Ruber headed for the sea, a hundred East Asian men wearing queues disembarked onto the beach.
The leader ordered,
"Count personnel."
"Current headcount: 100. Total of 132 missing."
Ruber asked, "Who are you?"
The leader stepped onto the white sand and said, "We're the Tamo organization. We traffic weapons around the world. Our ship was wrecked and we lost men."
Shipwreck.
A system parameter.
'Looks like a decent place to make a haul.'
Ruber's eyes narrowed.
'They compromised with my world, so they can't run wild. But that gait—'
It was clearly a combat program.
'If they expand their power, could they destroy this world from within?'
The deep layer was the realm of the unconscious; Imir's instinct seemed to know how to win.
Watching the Tamo organization head into the city, Ruber finally looked back at Shirone.
"It's been three years. How have you been?"
There was no answer.
'As expected… there's still no will for deep thought. But this is certainly a turning point.'
The fact he moved was proof.
'He's accepting this world more. From now on he'll need to eat. He'll age.'
Shirone may have sensed it.
'Imir's mind has penetrated. A crack has formed in the world built from the party's compromise.'
The compromise had broken.
'In short: dissatisfaction. Lord Odaeseong's change is a reaction to that.'
Change comes from dissatisfaction.
So the larger the Tamo organization grew, the more Shirone's group would awaken.
"Lord Odaeseong, would you like to go home? If you prefer the sea, you may stay here."
"No."
There was no need to cling to the sea any longer.
"Let's go home."
Three months later.
Shirone was entrusted to Sein's house.
"Lord Odaeseong threw himself into the boundless sea. He drifts endlessly, waiting for something to reach him. Please watch with patience."
Ruber's words.
Sein, an architect, mostly worked from home, and Miro attended school.
"Cheapest, coming right up."
Gaold—Gangnan had caught the fish from the sea and was selling them at the market.
His workplace lay in the maze‑like streets stretching beneath a fortress‑like building.
"Fresh fish—get your fresh fish!"
Gaold slammed his cleaver down as people passed beneath a murky neon sign.
"Damn it. Not a single customer." He put a cigarette to his mouth and flicked a lighter when a familiar voice came from beneath the fish tank.
"You smoke, so of course. What customer would buy fish handled by a smoker's hands?"
It was Miro, now twelve years old.
Her bright face still looked young, but she was tall and was beginning to fill out.
"Where are you looking?"
Gaold inhaled on his cigarette and exhaled slowly.
"Why? Can't I look?"
"What are you talking about? Are you sane?"
Gaold laughed.
"You heard it from your old man, didn't you? In other worlds, you and I had that sort of thing."
Miro stuck out her tongue.
"Who'd believe that? Shirone oppa didn't say anything either, you know?"
Gaold smiled bitterly.
Why did Miro want to live in this world after losing all her memories?
"And I don't like that guy, okay? He's like thirty years older and says weird stuff. Ugh, gross."
Still, Miro came to the stall every day.
"Take a few fish. That kid better be fed properly."
Gaold set a fish head down with the cigarette still in his hand just as a shadow fell over the cutting board.
"Hey, business doing well?"
Gaold only rolled his eyes.
'Tamo organization.'
A gang that had moved into the city three months ago and already dominated the alleyway shops.
"Can't you see?"
When one member counted the money he said, "You know? Shops that joined the Merchants' Union now pay an extra ten percent starting this month."
"We're not doing that. It's a nuisance… For a shop already struggling, an extra ten percent is a big hit."
"I know. Just be careful." The member shoved the money into his pocket and, leaving, pinched Miro's cheek hard.
"Ouch! You wanna die?"
"Ha! I like your spirit. You'll be kicking plenty of guys around when you grow up."
"That guy…."
Gaold intervened.
"Don't. If you pick a fight for no reason you'll get torn apart. Take this and go home. I'll wait."
"Aren't you angry? Gangnan halves the price of fish he worked hard to catch."
"There are worlds you don't know about."
In the market's shadowed alleys were countless shops without signs.
Weapon black market.
One raid could yield weapons that would make the merchants' union revolt.
"You coward! Idiot!"
Miro ran into the alley as Gaold stubbed his cigarette out on a fish eye.
"…Who says I'm not?"
Whether dream or reality was the true one, if you dug deep enough into one well you might accomplish something.
'I don't know.'
Gaold still couldn't find his footing on the boundary between dream and reality.
'It's not my fault.'
Before the Tamo organization arrived, reality had been nothing but a dream to him.
'Sometimes I get headaches. Real‑world events jab into my head like pins. What's worse…'
Emotions were vivid.
'Miro.'
He wanted to hold her now.
If she weren't in the form of a twelve‑year‑old, he wouldn't be able to suppress his feeling.
"…This is maddening."
"You idiot! Sea anemone! Stupid!"
Miro stomped home, slammed the door, and shouted.
"Dad! I'm going to get revenge!"
"Revenge?"
Sein, who'd been looking at blueprints, took off his glasses and turned in his chair.
"The Tamo organization! They disrespected me!"
"I told you not to go there. It's no place for kids."
Sein reached to take the fish, but Miro smashed it into the trash can instead.
Arius clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Ugh. Don't eat that. That man's just trying to win you over. Look at the way he looks at you—so lecherous."
"That could be true. If what you say is true… then why do you go every day?"
"Huh?"
Miro rolled her eyes and protested.
"It's… like a loose tooth. I don't like it, but I keep wanting to poke at it."
Sein had no reply.
"Oh, right. About revenge. I have a great idea. I did something amazing."
Miro hurried into the room and brought back a glass marble.
"What are you going to do?"
"Dad, watch closely. You'll be surprised." She sat on the floor and reached both hands toward the marble on the boards.
"Hmm, not working. Again…."
Sein, watching his daughter's antics, suddenly opened his eyes wide.
"It's working! Dad, look!"
The marble rose slowly into the air without Miro touching it.
A thought pierced Sein's mind: this isn't something we compromised.
"Miro!"
"Eek!"
The marble fell and Sein rushed over, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her.
"Where did you learn this? How did you do it?"
In his twelve years, he had never seen his daughter wear such a terrifying expression.
"I just… thought it looked fun."
"Tell me!"
"Shi—Shirone oppa taught me!" As soon as she said it, Sein kicked up the stairs and ran to the attic.
"Shirone! You—"
Sein froze at the door. Miro, who arrived a step later, looked up at the ceiling and laughed.
"Wow."
Around the sleeping Shirone, every object in the room floated in midair.