The golden light of sunset seeped through the window.
Inside the room, Shun and his grandma were connected by a wire charger, plugged into each other's foreheads.
Before them, a translucent panel appeared—visible to both.
[Copying and transferring memories: 90%… 95%… 100%]
[Memory has been successfully transferred.]
Shun's grandma unplugged the wire and stored it in her inventory. The item dissolved into white sparks and vanished.
Shun rubbed the space between his brows to ease the pain. The flood of information into his mind left him with a throbbing migraine.
I need to sort out the information I got, he thought, focusing on the knowledge he'd just received.
Then, he frowned. The information was fragmented… missing pieces.
"Grandma, something's wrong. I don't remember most of what you gave me. It's all scattered—and some of it's missing."
His grandma pinched her chin, falling into thought. "It's the System. It's filtering the information."
"What? Why?" Shun almost doubted his ears.
"Either the information shouldn't be known to others… or the System doesn't recognize it."
Two answers, but one seemed absurd.
"Doesn't recognize it? How could that be?"
He paused slightly, tapping his shoulder, falling into thought.
A kid with nothing could achieve greatness so long as he worked hard and grew stronger—strong enough to split mountains, bend space and time itself, and seize destiny from the hands of divinity to write it himself.
That was the System. A complex force that gave everyone an equal chance. It was up to them what they did with the opportunity.
Kneel or stand. Run or move forward. Kill or be killed.
It wasn't barbaric. It wasn't merciless. It wasn't evil. It was simply nature.
And such a complex force stored endless data about Towers, monsters, Rifts, artifacts, and more.
So the fact it couldn't recognize this information was beyond Shun's comprehension.
It was impossible… wasn't it?
No.
Shun froze. A strange chill crept through him—not from the transfer, but from the gaps.
It was like reading a book with every fifth page torn out.
He didn't know much about computers, but he knew this much:
A program could only recognize what it was told to recognize.
"The System…" he murmured, eyes narrowing. "It didn't block the info. It… never had it to begin with."
He didn't speak further. But his fingers trembled ever so slightly.
What kind of truth existed outside the System's understanding?
His grandma remained quiet, letting Shun digest the discovery. She didn't seem surprised at all.
"Grandma… you already knew?" he asked slowly.
"Nothing good comes from it. Sometimes, I wish for ignorance."
Her eyes softened with a blissful haze. Then, she chuckled—dryly, ironically.
Perhaps she was recalling scenes from her past. Or maybe that chuckle hid bitterness.
Shun couldn't tell.
"What do you want me to do with these fragmented pieces?" he asked, steering the topic back.
"How much did you learn?"
"A continent called Euhknell. The land of the blessed. It's somewhere beyond Antarctica. Methods of travel are unknown."
Shun shifted his gaze to her.
"Grandma… is that where you went when you were young?"
Shun wasn't clear about his family's history. His mother avoided any questions about his grandma. But from stories told by his father, she was never really there for his mom—at least not until Shun turned five.
Despite that bitter past, it didn't change the fact that his grandma had taught him so much. She trained him to fight, taught him to defend himself, showed him how to earn money… and so much more.
He looked up to her. She was his example.
And yet, the incredible woman she once was… now lay frail in a hospital bed.
She gazed at the ceiling, melancholy flickering faintly in her eyes.
"Yes. Despite everything that happened there, even if I were reincarnated five thousand times, I wouldn't change a single decision."
She shook her head and let the silence linger before adding softly:
"The consequences I caused upon myself… the decisions I cast upon others… every part of it, every moment of it, I accept."
Her eyes brimmed with pride.
One could tell she had lived to the fullest and carried no regret.
But then—
"That was my thought at first. But now…"
Her gaze softened as she looked at Shun. The pride burning in her eyes flickered, replaced by gentleness.
"If I had one more chance to live… I wouldn't chase the secrets hidden there. I'd make you happy, child.
"You wouldn't have to worry about hunting monsters. You should've done what most children do at your age."
She patted his shoulder and smiled.
"Having fun. Chasing girls you like. Doing homework. Enjoying summer festivals. Watching movies… all of it, without caring about monsters and Rifts."
"…"
Shun fell silent.
It was the first time he had seen this side of her.
Perhaps age had made her gentle.
But there was one thing he had to say.
He looked her in the eye.
"And if I were reincarnated five thousand times, I wouldn't change a single thing either—except to save you, Grandma.
"You've taught me so much. If not for you… I'd probably be dead and buried six feet underground.
"I haven't even repaid you for all you've done. I haven't even—"
His voice cracked.
"—made you proud!"
"What a foolish statement," she said softly, brushing his hair with a tender hand.
"You've always been my proudest work, child… a blade I was happy to sharpen."
She fell silent, continuing to brush his hair.
Shun's gaze flickered. Sadness? Joy? Maybe both.
He didn't know. He didn't care.
He closed his eyes and let himself be spoiled like the child he once was.
When was the last time she had shown this side of herself?
Shun couldn't remember.
Then she stopped and withdrew her hand.
Silence lingered before Shun broke it.
"That continent…" he hesitated, searching for the right words. "Did you get your illness from there?"
She chuckled slightly but didn't answer. Instead, she materialized a brooch out of thin air.
It was shaped like a clock, with a right wing made of gears and intricate tech.
"My time is too short to tell unpleasant stories," she said with a bitter smile, stroking the brooch.
"This brooch is a testament to my achievements in that place over the years."
She handed it to Shun.
"If you're ready… go to Euhknell, child. Find what you seek. This brooch will guide you."
Shun accepted it, scrutinizing it for a moment before looking back at her.
"I'll take care of it."
She gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment.
Shun stored the brooch in his inventory.
"How should I go to Euhknell?" he asked.
"It's not a matter of how. It's a matter of when. When the time comes, you'll encounter it."
"…Okay." He nodded.
Although the answer was cryptic and unsatisfying, Shun accepted her words.
As he pondered this, she lay herself down.
Her eyelids grew heavy and slowly closed.
Shun stared at her, sadness flashing across his eyes.
This was the first time they'd truly talked in years… and it might be the last.
As the thought gnawed at him, his legs bounced restlessly.
There must be a way to keep her alive a little longer… at least until they come and apologize!
Shun's chest tightened with desperation.
"Child," she said quietly, as if reading his mind. "Whatever you're thinking… let it go."
"What are you talking about?" Shun tried to play dumb.
She opened her eyes slightly.
"You're planning to put me in that time chamber, aren't you?"
"What? No, of course not! Psh!"
He waved his hands as if swatting away a ridiculous thought.
Then, quickly, awkwardly, he added,
"Why would I do that? That's crazy! I'm not putting you into a place that guarantees death just so dying patients can see one last moment they want to see! That's just crazy!"