The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

Introduction to History (3)

Regina denied Jungjin’s conclusion without hesitation.

“□□, please. You know you don’t have the power of imagination. You’re a human who couldn’t settle down by creating a world that is only friendly to you.”

He had to admit he lacked imagination, but when that was affirmed in that gentle voice, his stomach felt like it was burning.

“…Even if your existence wasn’t my delusion, I don’t think we knew each other so well.”

“No. I knew you very long.”

In this case, Regina’s speech caused a gap with Minsun in his memory. Regina spoke like a prophet giving out revelations, with a tone of conviction and aspiration.

‘Her voice is lower. Well, each person has their hidden faces.’

Kleio’s skeptical gaze couldn’t slow down her momentum at all.

“You’ve never put your imagination over facts. You don’t swallow up the facts given to you to fill your hypocritical hunger because there is no such desire in you. I want you…∂≒] as editor of ▲↓, ∩Å∠….”

There was a part of her words that he couldn’t understand, likely a matter of narrative intervention again. Instead of dwelling on the unintelligible noise, he decided to ask another question.

“You tell me you’re not the author, nor my delusions. So, how can you exist here? You retain that appearance, but you’ve become a completely different being. How would you explain this difference?”

“Because the author knew me, but only read about you. Just weaving a net of probability to set up your seat here was hard. God isn’t omnipotent even in his own world, and even more so to the existence of a world other than his own.”

“…What? God?”

“The god of the last world here has •‣⁛⁖⁙⁁ but has not fully experienced our world.”

Kleio found something familiar in the words that were broken down. The last world? In the message that popped up when he received Promise, this place was called the previous world. Until now, he thought it was only a poetic expression.

“The last world. All of this is just a novel written by Mousai and the world he created. Does it mean anything other than that?”

“You’re right. This is a world written by Mousai. At the same time, it is a world where history is repeated.”

It was an answer as vague as the clouds in the sky. Kleio couldn’t take it anymore and jumped up from his seat.

“Explain it a little more so I can understand. Who brought you here? Did you not bring me here?”

“Ah, □□…calm down. As a natural consequence of ▲⁆⁘∠‡⁍, I am here. I came here on schedule, and the reason you came here stems from me.”

He couldn’t hear the most important words. Jungjin gripped the back of his chair with frustration welling his heart.

“It’s because of you that I’m here. Was it you who sent the message?! Did you steal the author’s name?”

“No. I am the one who sent the first message, but I have no authority in this story.”

Regina freely admitted it was her who sent it, not the author. Jungjin, who had never doubted that this Mousai was the author, was shocked that one of his fundamental premises had been so easily overturned.

“If that’s true, how?”

Regina bowed her head with sorrow.

“I have already spoken, but the meaning isn’t transmitted to you now.”

“Why?”

“Your narrative intervention is still not enough. The reason I sent only ambiguous sentences to you in the previous world was also because of that, so I had to use expressions that you would consider coherent.”

“…In the first place, was it your plan to send me the manuscript?”

“Yes, because everything starts only when you read the manuscript.”

“What if I didn’t read it but ignored it instead?”

Regina smiled lightly.

“I thought you would read it. You always have shown unrequited love for things that are written.”

Kleio ran a hand through his hair, tangling it up. His breathing was sharp, and his cheeks were red. Kleio’s body couldn’t withstand the mental overload, and it felt like he was overheating. However, Jungjin didn’t feel any of it as Regina hesitantly opened her mouth. Her tone was cautious.

“□□, doesn’t this world still make you feel like you have to live more? Do you have anything good to look forward to?”

It was a troubling question. Jungjin suddenly remembered the thoughts he had in the Asel mansion when summer was still in full swing. What was the hierarchy between the real world that didn’t need him and the created world that desperately wanted him? At that time, he had already made his choice. What to leave and what to throw away? It was obvious even without knowing who created this world and for what purpose. Because he no longer wants to suffer from the agony of the world. His fever subsided, and the stuffiness that blocked his breathing was relieved. Kleio stepped back a little and sat down. Then, after a while, he answered, faintly and weakly but clearly to Regina.

“…Perhaps.”

After hearing his response, Regina smiled once more as Minsun. Her laughter softened the cold of her appearance like spring warming winter. Jungjin clenched his teeth as it felt like he was punched in the heart. He cleared his throat, putting the conversation back on track.

“Anyway, if you were the one who sent me that message and brought me here, you would be the one who gave me this Promise.”

Regina nodded. Finally, even though the graduation ring’s secret was revealed, Jungjin felt neither refreshed nor happy.

“Then, how do I believe in the appropriate judgment given to me by this Promise? You could be lying about being the author and adjusting the results.”

Regina tilted her head in puzzlement.

“Can you tell me what that judgment is?”

“How can you not know its functions if you gave it to me?”

She looked at Jungjin’s left hand.

“It’s a force that belongs to you the moment it left my hand and entered yours. It is a promise that contains all of me — a circle linking two worlds. I don’t know what miracles you can do with it.”

“Then, you mean that the message that it’s throwing out isn’t also from you?!”

“It’s a natural function of it… I don’t have the right to read the manuscript; how can I know the contents of the commentary? I am one of the nine, but I can never get involved in this world’s writing.”

It was still unfamiliar, but one thing was clear.

“…One of the nine. If so, are you really Clio?”

It was a question that made him realize it was a crazy thing to say even after he said it, but she didn’t joke about the question.

“In these terms, it is true. Clio is the name that defines my existence.”

The woman who proclaimed herself as a muse still had the face of a person he knew. It was something outside the realm of factual judgment. She just admitted it. If this were the original world, she would’ve been treated as a nutcase. But what did that mean to this world?

“Then, what is Kleio? How could you, who isn’t the author, plant a person here named after you and is empowered by you?”

“You are my ⁌▲⁆-. So, the god of this world gave you my name—Kleio, who deserves my promise. I can’t be more than I am, but you can, so I bet on you. After all these failed attempts, you ∂⁌▲⁆―∩∠‡….”

As it was difficult to say, Regina rubbed her neck and furrowed her brow. Kleio poured some water that was on a side-table and handed it over to her. Regina took the cup and took a dainty bird-like sip. Daylight broke into the room, making Regina’s hair shine like silver. Kleio still had things to learn.

“Then, what is Melchior? He also had a muse’s unique skill and knew the truth of this world.”

“He was a person who was completely subjugated to the world, a person who belonged here the moment the last world was born.”

Melchior hadn’t come from outside the work.

“How can that be? He is more clearly convinced of the existence of the repetitions than Arthur or Aslan.”

Regina brought Jungjin close, as it was difficult for her to speak after having some water. Her voice was thin and hoarse.

“Melchior isn’t you, but someone close to me. His past is great, and before, he also suffered from the world’s ⁊‰⁋⁌‼… kahak!”

Kleio reflexively patted Regina’s convulsing back. The two were facing each other very closely now, close enough for their lips to meet. If someone saw them, they would be mistaken for a lover’s secret meeting. Regina’s exhalation brushed at Kleio’s hair. Words between the two scattered into the air, and she couldn’t tell him anything. He wanted to ask if there were more people protected by the sisters besides Erato and Clio. However, Regina’s voice stopped, as if she were sleeping. Kleio’s heart was rattled, filled with too many emotions to parse through. She slowly blinky, as if trying to endure the sudden rush of sleepiness.

‘Every time she tries to tell me something, she’s becoming weaker and weaker.’

The color had completely faded from her cheeks. Somewhere, he could smell a faint scent of blood. It seemed that death was choking her, not drowsiness anymore. She eventually closed her mouth, unable to say the words that couldn’t be conveyed. Regina couldn’t even breathe properly as she gasped. She shook her head hard, her nails stuck into her palm. Then, she smiled sadly as a moment of silence passed.

“So, have you ever thought about it? What if this world didn’t mimic the manuscript, but the manuscript mimics the world? What if it doesn’t exist because it is written, but it is recorded because it exists?”