Chapter 52

5. The White Hall “That’s the end? Aren’t you going to read the rest?” Hearing those words, Shizuku opened her eyes. She was in a pure white space, white as far as the eye could see. There was no sky, just a white floor that went on forever. In front of her was a desk, with a single book lying on its pure white surface. On the other side of the table stood a lone woman. For some strange reason, Shizuku couldn’t see her face. “I was thinking it would go on forever,” the woman said. “Both the interesting and the less interesting parts. I assumed things would continue to be written, whether I read them or not.” “It’s up to individuals to determine what is preserved and what isn’t,” responded Shizuku. “Outsiders shouldn’t take the liberty of making that choice.” “Who are you to say that? You came from another world, too, you know.” “I think it’d be more accurate to say I was brought here.” Shizuku pressed her temples. It felt as though she’d been stuck in this entirely white space with this woman for a long time. She couldn’t remember what they’d talked about, though. It was as if time had come to a standstill, as if both the distant past and distant future had been compressed onto a single flat sheet of paper. The woman embodied the remnants of the interlopers’ consciousnesses. These interlopers had created the cursed artifact that unified the continent’s language. “Won’t it benefit humanity if all of the past is preserved?” she said to Shizuku. “Surely people will stop making mistakes.” “You’ve got it wrong. It doesn’t matter how horrific the records are, the same errors will still be repeated. What we really need to acknowledge is that humans make mistakes. Unless we understand that, a book chronicling the entirety of history will only breed arrogance.” Shizuku cast a glance at the book on the table. It was a compilation of records connecting them to the past. That wasn’t the only way the artifact was unique, though. “Why did you make everyone speak the same language?” The interlopers had eliminated existing writing systems and imbued people with innate language skills. They’d acted arbitrarily. Why had they chosen to standardize the language people spoke, instead of just documenting history? The woman took a moment before giving her response. “I felt that if there were multiple languages, people wouldn’t be able to convey their intentions as clearly.” “Didn’t you think that would restrict human thought?” “The potential for misunderstandings to disrupt progress is a far bigger issue. A shackle isn’t a shackle if you don’t realize it’s there.” The woman let out a deep sigh. Although Shizuku couldn’t see her face, the woman was definitely glaring at her. “You never should have been summoned to this world.” “I’m glad I was.” “Why did you sacrifice your life? Is it that insignificant to you?” “It’s not insignificant at all.” Shizuku felt like she’d heard this question countless times since arriving in this world, but her answer was always the same. “I don’t want to die. I don’t like pain, either. My life is precious to me, and that’s exactly why I’m using it to protect something even more important.” “Which is?” “The mind.” She wasn’t just talking about her own mind. She valued the minds of others and the thoughts that originated from them. She believed they were important. That was why she was prepared to put her life on the line for them. She could keep going when it was for something more important than her own life. She didn’t expect others to understand her decision. She simply wanted to demonstrate that this was the choice she’d made. “Why do you people interfere with this world?” Shizuku asked. “Because that is the role that was given to us. Our duty is to interact with this world and accumulate knowledge.” “Your duty? What purpose does that serve?” “Well… To find out how we could have lived happy lives, perhaps?” It was an incredibly vague response. The ambiguity that Shizuku sensed appeared to dissolve into the open white space surrounding her. The woman briefly averted her gaze, then continued. “Also… We wanted reassurance. Knowing that all the things we had and hadn’t had the chance to read were documented in those books gave us peace of mind. This way, they’d never get lost.” “We already set fire to two of them.” “Yes. Not only that, but they’ve lost you as well. The books may as well not exist at all if there’s no one to read them. People will come to speak different languages. They’re sure to fight again.” “There’s freedom in that, though.” Shizuku thought about the people she’d met on her journey. Some of them were easy to understand, while others had remained an enigma right up until they parted ways. Some had become important to her, while others were already important to someone else. And then, there were those who rejected everyone and everything, choosing to be alone. It didn’t matter if the loss of the books or the division of language sowed the seeds of conflict. People would still move forward, making mistakes along the way. That was why it was far better for their minds to be free. Shizuku’s reply made the woman fall silent. After a moment, she pointed at the space behind Shizuku. “You should be on your way now.” “What? Where to?” “I don’t know. I’m just a vestige of what once was.” Shizuku turned around. There, in a space that had previously been empty, stood a small door. “You can go wherever you like. You’re free, aren’t you?” And so, Shizuku…