Chapter 11

A day passed.

In that time, I did things living creatures do: ate food, washed my body, took care of waste, and slept.

Thirty percent of a human’s life is made up of these memories, so there’s no awkwardness now looking back on it.

Though it’s my first time doing it myself, thanks to Rebecca’s memories, it wasn’t difficult at all.

Skipping over such trivial issues, the place where I am is a basement that doesn’t let in a single ray of light. Its structure is spread out wider than most cities.

And outside this underground lair is a grassland close to being a desert.

During the rainy season, grass grows, but in the dry season, only withered grass and sand swirl around. There’s also a deep canyon formed by long-term erosion.

When I was human, this looked like something from foreign movies—red sand and rocks, layered cliffs towering high, and a river flowing between them.

And then there are towering Rocky Mountains.

Small villages are scattered around these mountains, but they’re just entrances; the real settlements are beneath those mountains.

I’d love to go out and check it out firsthand, but that seems unlikely for now.

This morning, Hieronymus came by, said hello, and left, but hasn’t returned since, leaving me with nothing to do.

Joanna seems focused on taking care of me, sticking by me like a maid.

Last night was quite entertaining.

After I fell asleep in bed, she went back to her room. It seemed like it had been neglected for a while because she cleaned the foggy mirror until it sparkled.

She closely examined her own face in front of it, did handstands, and performed push-ups. First with both hands, then one hand, and finally with just her fingers—it was fascinating.

After moving enough to break a light sweat, Joanna left the room and went to where warrior training was happening. She called over someone who seemed to be an instructor.

There, she learned how to fight.

Her body movements were greatly enhanced in some way or maybe she just had latent talent, because she quickly followed the instructor’s motions.

Seeing her grow visibly better within a day, the instructor eventually couldn’t help but ask about her background.

At that, Joanna beamed with joy.

“It’s thanks to Lady Rebecca’s blessing. Originally, I was an old woman nearing the end of my life.”

She showed her hands to the male instructor as if boasting. Desire flickered in his eyes.

“Lady Rebecca… You mean the person who arrived through the ritual yesterday?”

“Yes, exactly that person.”

But Joanna didn’t boast further. Instead, she returned to her room. Judging by her lively footsteps as she left, she must have enjoyed showing off.

I may not understand, but emotions aren’t meant to be understood, right?

Who could possibly understand my coldness?

After Joanna returned to her room and fell asleep, I was the only one left to observe.

Then, Joanna came in early, fed me, helped me bathe, and after dressing me neatly, Hieronymus arrived, said hello briefly, and left.

Ah.

I know morning has come because inside this underground city, they ring a bell six times to announce it. Isn’t ringing a bell in such an enclosed space kind of conspicuous?

They probably know what they’re doing.

Since humans have sleep patterns, disrupting them can lead to ruin, so it makes sense to accurately inform people of the time in a space like this.

So, morning passed.

By midday, as I debated leaving the room due to the cold…

The door suddenly burst open, and a child entered.

It was a small girl with silver hair, wearing no mask or shadowy robe. Despite her small frame, she radiated immense power. But strangely, despite the intensity of her light, it didn’t carry much warmth.

Strange.

“You there, you must be the great being Hieronymus is hiding away. I’m Ttongkesuni. Just a plain old witch, as you see.”

Particularly noteworthy is the giant cane she holds in one hand. It oddly resembles a human skull and spine fused together.

It looks more real than fake—like it’s actually made of real bones.

Since she introduced herself as a witch, maybe it’s normal for her to wield strange tools. Though I thought witches carried brooms, this might be standard magical equipment in this world.

As she approached, Joanna stepped in front of me protectively.

So I gently tugged on Joanna’s dress.

“Lady Rebecca?”

“Please step aside.”

“Yes.”

She immediately bowed without hesitation and stepped back. Honestly, it irks me. Cults are always like this.

I got up from the bed and walked toward the tiny witch. She’s shorter than me by half a head.

“Hello, I’m Rebecca Rolfe.”

“Oh ho! Didn’t expect you to greet me! But it’s odd… That’s the name of the body you’ve taken over, not your true self, isn’t it?”

She’s staring at me sharply. She looks like a little girl, but her tone and aura feel older.

Is she some sort of age deceiver?

She seems to have surpassed anti-aging magic, but for a witch, it’s not too surprising.

Old fairy tales depicted witches as hooked-nosed women with warts, but over time, young beauties have also taken their place.

“If I don’t use it, it’ll be inconvenient. So let’s stick with this body’s name. What difference does it make?”

“There *is* a difference! A huge one! A name defines existence. Even if your body breaks down, you won’t die. Your essence remains!”

Can’t I live without a name?

Names only matter because others exist. If you’re alone, you don’t need one—you don’t need to distinguish yourself from anyone else.

In short, it’s a social construct.

Still, in this world, names might hold immense importance, so I can’t be sure yet. There’s still so much I don’t know.

“If you want the name of my true self beyond this body, can I even give it to you?”

I remember my original name from when I was human, and I can read it—but strangely, I can’t vocalize it to others. I can’t even write it down.

“How so?”

She asked.

Does Ttongkesuni know? I want to tell her, but I simply can’t.

Or maybe these memories are all fake. Maybe they’re fabricated, and the name doesn’t truly exist. I only have the feeling of having one. Then what about this coldness? Who am I?

Despite these questions…

Unfortunately, they don’t cause an identity crisis. Before any of that, the relentless chill consumes my existence.

Right now, I’m freezing so badly I could scream. If I had time to ponder such things, I’d rather just find some warmth!

If survival is rooted in instinct, then my instinct is screaming for warmth right now. Thus, I can calmly look at Ttongkesuni in front of me and ask questions.

“That’s another troublesome question. Do you have a name you just can’t pronounce? Or is it something humans can’t utter?”

“The former.”

At my answer, Ttongkesuni let out a short sound, almost a groan. Why? She seems strangely hostile.

“Truly, you’ve put me in a difficult spot. Who would call you a god? Can you at least write it down?”

“Try it.”

Ttongkesuni waved her hand, and a small feather flew into it from behind. A quill pen?

Classic tools.

When she handed it to me, I grabbed it. A strange energy rippled under my fingertips, but when dealing with something unusual, I always prepare myself.

Sitting on the floor, I tried to use it.

But the pen won’t move. I can’t form shapes. Writing hangul characters is impossible.

Even trying to translate it into their language fails. Through memory, I can use their tongue, but matching it letter-for-letter—or even writing phonetically—is beyond me.

“This is strange. I can’t do it.”

“Some sort of restriction, perhaps? It’s inconvenient for you, given how you’ve suddenly been brought into this world.”

She said this while shining her eyes at me piercingly. She’s probing me. This question is meant to test me.

So…

Do I need to lie?

No.

“I’m glad you’re here. I am an extremely cold ocean.”

I started speaking slowly. Last time, when I talked too fast, Ttongkesuni stared at me like I was some chatterbox.

So this time, I spoke slowly, leisurely, melodically, with rhythm.

“I always look up at the light above, waiting for it to fall. Occasionally, if I’m lucky, a light filled with unhappy memories comes to me, bringing a tiny bit of warmth.”

That’s you. Every living thing has a light in its chest, and that light carries warmth. And Ttongkesuni understands.

I can see a faint glimmer of fear in her eyes. Yes, I’m telling her I see you all as prey.

It’s natural for prey to fear predators. Though I have no intention of killing you, if obtaining warmth involves death, I won’t hesitate.

“I like that warmth. I absolutely adore it. The endless cold momentarily pauses.”

This is my impulse. Understanding the fundamental principle will make it easier to comprehend me.

“So, I need warmth. For warmth, I’ll do anything. You say I’ve been suddenly dragged into this world? Yes, I was caught unexpectedly. But look, here before me is something brimming with warmth. Thank you.”

First, I gave my thanks. Perhaps it’s a pre-meal greeting. Hi hi.

“If a name represents existence, then all of this is my name.”

At my words, Ttongkesuni’s face broke into a wide smile. But I know it’s not genuine.

When fear becomes overwhelming, some people laugh. They force themselves to laugh to relieve stress.

Humans are simple like that—they interpret laughter as a happy situation and automatically produce its effects, whether they’re truly amused or not. You laugh because you laugh.

“Did I give you the answer you wanted?”

To my question, Ttongkesuni didn’t respond. But behind her forced smile, I could hear the whisper of fear seeping through.

“What have we done?”

Sounds like summoning an evil deity, huh? I’m hardly divine. I lack intelligence, special abilities, and the majestic presence to command instant reverence.

I’m just a pet that eats a lot.

If you raise me like a zoo animal, I’d be delighted. If I can gain warmth, I’d gladly become the zoo mascot!

So…

“Don’t be afraid, Ttongkesuni.”

Channeling the spirit of a wild animal gradually opening up, I placed my hand on her cheek.

“No one has done anything wrong.”

I truly don’t think capturing me was a bad thing.

---