Chapter 155

It’s the weekend.

After meeting Polaris, I kinda figured someone would come by—whether it was Theodoro or someone else—but nope.

Guess what? Predicting the future is still super tough.

But during that time…

I became certain that the people I know and those living in this world are the same.

The Twilight Association.

They had no clue where their funding came from. So when the funds dried up, and the charity work they did got weaker because of it, suspicion quickly crept in.

Like, “Someone’s embezzling it,” or “They already took all the money and are pretending not to know.” That kind of suspicion.

People started doubting each other. And the ones managing or leading the group? Oh, they got a TON of hate.

You know how when kindness keeps going, some folks start thinking it’s normal?

Exactly.

Since they weren’t getting what they thought was their due, they blamed the higher-ups!

Sure, the managers said the support had stopped, but some people didn’t buy it. A small percentage, sure, but loud voices carry far.

And among them were both educated and uneducated individuals.

They blew things way out of proportion while ignoring the hard work of those on the ground, claiming the office workers were exploiting profits.

Looks like the Twilight Association forgot they’re a charity.

Hi hi.

Still…

We haven’t reached the point where we’re killing each other yet.

But the faction mixed with Harvesters and non-Harvesters now plans to attack the office staff to rip something off. Cowardly, they’re stirring up trouble so others fight while they profit.

When people incite conflict just to gain advantages, truth doesn’t matter anymore.

All they care about is not getting what they think they deserve and blaming the other side.

Brilliant.

If only I could turn the person next to me into a Harvester too. Thanks to the Dormiens Royal Family, the image of Harvesters is already tarnished. No need to worry about becoming public enemy number two like in the last world.

I’ll be able to gain warmth within a few days.

The problem is… if we keep fighting, numbers will dwindle…

Wait, hold on.

Isn’t it fine now that we don’t have to care about the Harvester image?

Let’s increase the number of Harvesters. Sure, it’s good that Harvesters and regular folks are mixing and gaining warmth through fights, but there’s an issue.

My ongoing experiment:

Daegon vs. Primordial Heavenly Sovereign. Whose tech can more easily send people to the great beyond?

Culture is kneaded with blood. When technological bricks pile up, blood flows. Cultural dough covers it to prevent collapse. But if technology grows faster than culture can handle, it becomes unstable.

Eventually, when blood and flesh scatter without touching the ground, the tower collapses.

What collapses isn’t the technology—it’s humanity.

Even after that, piling bricks won’t build the Tower of Humanity. It’ll just fall flat.

Faded memories also had plenty of these moments.

In countless factories, even if one worker dies every day, nothing changes. It becomes a trivial thing everyone talks about but ignores.

When human life matters less than the inconvenience of many, the world starts seeing grinding people as normal. Just once.

Just once.

And then… it’s over.

It never goes back to the way it was. Once you jump a hurdle, the next one feels easier. Eventually, deaths become routine.

Now people say:

“Why are you pretending to be good?”

A broken morality is excellent. It means we’re steadily gaining warmth.

That’s exactly what I want.

A world where people talk about the value of humans but don’t actually move for it.

A world that avoids extremes lasts longer because internal people stay comfortable enough to ignore deaths. Such a world will wobble but keep moving forward for a long time.

It means we’ll consistently gain warmth for a very long time. And as the population grows, so will warmth.

But if this battle reduces the number of Harvesters too much, technological development slows down. Thus, we need to replenish for the future.

Without hesitation, I stepped outside. If I hadn’t, I’d have stayed cooped up in my room all weekend anyway.

Interestingly, no one working there asked me where I was going. They just changed my clothes and sent me off immediately.

So I left home, headed toward the main road, and walked along the big streets.

Location: the slums of the capital.

If this is a world on the verge of development, there should be plenty of what I’m looking for here.

People who are smothered and rotting, fervently wishing to become my Harvesters.

People who recklessly rush toward even the smallest light.

People who blindly follow like lemmings and dive straight to the bottom.

Tap tap.

I walk diligently despite my short legs.

***

A faint but penetrating scent of decay invades my mind. Fishy smells, stagnant water, and intense chemical odors mix together.

The ground isn’t the smooth stone I’ve been walking on—it’s mostly cracked and eroded, almost turning into dirt.

And on top of it, dirty-clothed people shuffle around.

A man, red-faced from booze or drugs, stumbles around. A woman wearing thin clothes comes out offering herself. An old man with legs but no feet crawls along.

Beggars and vagrants. A place where society’s dregs gather.

I remember such places used to be pushed far away. Why? Because I’ve been blowing deeply despairing humans up.

To avoid that, the exploiters kept them at a distance.

Yet this one’s right in the middle of the city.

Did we forget?

Or do we not realize how dire these people’s situations are?

Of course, I don’t blow them up wastefully anymore, but it’s still a little puzzling.

While pondering this, I entered the heart of the street.

At least there’s no coal smoke here. These places are often heavily polluted, but this one isn’t. Even though using too much magic might cause Bern City-like side effects due to lack of magical energy, the worst we get here is the smell of unwashed filth and decaying organisms.

Unlike the faded memory of Whitechapel, at least you can breathe here.

As soon as I entered, countless eyes pierced me like a welcome greeting.

My outfit is pretty clean, so either kill me for it or snatch me and sell me.

I walk deeper into the street.

Not only are the stares following me, but actual people are trailing behind too.

I stop in the middle of the street and wait. Surely someone will bite at the sight of a young girl dressed expensively standing there blankly.

And predictably, a guy with a face covered in grime walks up to me, grabbing my shoulder like he’s trying to prevent my escape.

“Kid, lost your way?”

“Hello.”

The person I wanted has arrived.

A man whose face brims with desire. Let me break his seal with a memory trigger.

“You’re screaming.”

“Huh? What’s this chick saying?”

“Hehehe, not me screaming, it’s you!”

Meanwhile, scrawny men approach from the side. Got hit once in the past, and again here. Are they not kidnapping me immediately because this is their territory?

“People should do what they want.”

As I utter my catchphrase, the crowd erupts in laughter.

“I’d appreciate it if you stripped right now!”

“Wow, look at that pale skin.”

“Isn’t it too pale?”

Ignoring the initial greeter, I continue.

“You probably forgot what you wanted to do. With nothing to sustain you, survival became the priority. Still, you once dreamed, right?”

Smack.

Got slapped.

“Are you dreaming? Do you think the world is a fairy tale? Where have you been looking at weird stuff?”

Other vulgarities follow. But no one around sympathizes with me. Perfectly rotten place.

I recite the contract to create Harvesters.

“I’ll give myself to you. In return, when you’ve finished everything, I’ll take all you possess. How about it?”

After my words, the men surrounding me snicker and laugh.

“Wow, she’s offering herself. We’ve got ourselves a saint!”

“Hehe, this is a new flavor. Let’s take her quick.”

“Eww, really? Fine. Hurry up. She’s flat-chested. Weird.”

With so many, surely one will agree.

Any promise to give something pierces the heart like magic. If the giver seems weaker, it sounds like submission.

One man’s skin turns ceramic-like and shatters like pottery.

Screams echo as the men back away.

“What did this witch do?”

“Is she here to cast evil spells? Witch!”

Startled, they glare at me and shout louder to hide their fear. But I point at the Harvester with my finger.

“Huh? What? My hand. It’s white. Strange. My body feels cool. Not itchy at all.”

The man with purple hair and snow-white skin looks down at himself in bewilderment.

“I gave myself to you, so it’s okay to dream now.”

Everyone’s gaze shifts to me.

Then murmurs spread, and someone familiar with me speaks up, mentioning the incident in Bern City.

The royal family heavily advertised it.

In a crowd this size, there’s bound to be someone who knows.

Doubts quickly turn into realization, and realization fuels desire. Normally, religion would stir people to drag them into dens, but since the royal family dislikes religious tones, I switched it to dreams.

“Everyone has the right to dream. To do what they want, obtain what they desire, and envision a wonderful future.”

I deliberately scan the surroundings slowly, making eye contact with everyone watching me.

“Stop screaming. I’ll change you.”

I didn’t say “better,” because pushing someone into a slaughterhouse is less horrifying than what they’ll endure until death without knowing its nature.

Thus, I concluded with:

“To everyone here.”

Offering to make them Harvesters. Imbuing this meaning, they exchange glances. Weakness breeds hesitation.

But there are impatient ones.

That’s why I came to the slums—a place where such people inevitably exist.

Rich folks would see it as a scam and ignore or avoid it. But not here.

“Can this… heal me?”

Look.

A towering man with half his face melted from an accident approaches me.

I immediately recited the contract, and he accepted. He didn’t just recover cleanly—he became healthier. Watching him touch his flawless face, people rushed toward me.

Afraid to miss their turn, they swarm me.

Next is easy.

I contracted with everyone regardless of age or gender.

Here alone, I gained 15,239 Harvesters.

Now I push memories into them. If the experiment succeeds, the lowest of the low will possess incredible tech.

World.

Social underdogs gaining high value?

Obvious, right?

All I have to do now is wait.

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