The Fifty-Fourth Ending

Tap, tap, tap.

Quick footsteps echoed.

All kinds of noises followed behind—blades slicing through the air, weapons clashing sharply, and someone’s dying scream.

But the person gripping my forearm did not stop.

We ran without pause, and then suddenly my vision brightened.

〈〩〼〥〤!〉

That distorted sound was what finally made me realize this was a dream.

Still, even if I’d entered the game, did it really need to reproduce broken audio too……?

〈It’s the exit.〉

Once I recognized the situation, I understood what I was seeing.

The fifty-fourth bad ending I had witnessed right before entering this game.

〈We’re safe now.〉

The one telling me that was, of course, OZ.

〈Here.〉

OZ extended his hand toward me.

Watching that made me uneasy for several reasons.

First, it felt strange seeing a character I had killed this up close.

Second, I knew how this ending played out.

Someone might say that once you realize it’s a dream, you can do whatever you want.

But if you’ve actually experienced it, you’d know.

It doesn’t go the way you want nearly as often as you’d think.

‘Even if you know it’s a dream, it can spiral out of control and you’ll end up barging into a locked-room murder bathroom shouting, “One room for the night!”’

Since I knew that, I just let it be.

If it followed the fifty-fourth bad ending to the end, I’d wake up on my own.

Popcorn would’ve been nice.

‘This feels strange.’

Watching it made my mood waver.

The OZ turning back to smile at me looked nothing like the one I remembered.

His eyes sparkled.

His large fangs showed, but instead of looking vicious, he seemed innocent.

His whole face seemed to confess, “I like you.”

‘Could he have been like that?’

I didn’t regret what I had done.

It was just… curious.

‘Did I choose “Take his hand” here?’

Come to think of it, what was the other option besides “Take his hand”?

I couldn’t remember.

Well, it didn’t matter.

The OZ route was completely wrecked anyway, and this dream would simply replay the fifty-fourth bad ending I had already seen……

〈〩〼〥〤?〉

Huh?

〈What’s wrong? Where are you going? Wait!〉

I wasn’t the only one startled.

OZ looked just as surprised.

Apparently ‘I’ had pushed him away and started heading somewhere else.

〈It’s safe here!〉

OZ hurried after me—after ‘me’—pleading.

‘The lines are the same, but…….’

Do dream rules apply here too?

Like when you open a bathroom door and suddenly it’s a hot spring or a wardrobe instead.

〈……Spend your whole life here…… is that it?〉

OZ kept shouting something, but it became harder to understand.

〈You don’t need sunlight, right? Not ever. Yes, you don’t need it. The blazing sun, the moonlight, the rain, the wind—they’re all worthless. What matters is……!〉

I must be about to wake up.

Or maybe my subconscious was thinking, ‘Even for a nonsense dream, it’s getting hard to keep fitting the original dialogue in. Haha, might as well wake up.’

“Lazy bastard…….”

I wasn’t sure if it was real.

I thought I heard a sharp sound.

Maybe it was a thud.

Like the sound of a door closing.

“Starting the day with insults? That’s harsh, darling.”

A familiar voice followed immediately, and I fully woke up.

And only then did I realize something disturbing.

The tone I imagined my subconscious having sounded exactly like that damned prophet.

“……!”

Ah.

“What’s wrong? You wake up and immediately clutch your head?”

“My head hurts.”

I had shot upright instinctively, only to clutch my head with both hands and groan.

It had been fine earlier.

Now it felt like my skull was splitting.

I knew the reason.

Probably.

“Caliburn, I think I understand why you said I need to clearly separate myself from this place.”

I muttered, still holding my head.

“Haha. Seems you saw something unpleasant in your sleep.”

“OZ.”

Caliburn didn’t respond verbally, but I was certain he was listening.

“No, the screen about OZ appeared right after he died. But in the dream…… without your replay text overlay……”

I searched for words.

Maybe the headache made it harder to think.

Or maybe it was something else.

“…….”

My mood sank.

Ridiculous.

I had watched it jokingly in the dream.

“It was a nightmare.”

Caliburn said quietly.

“Just that.”

Even without seeing his face, I could picture the faint smile beneath his robe.

“Yeah.”

He was right.

“I just woke up.”

“That happens.”

“Yeah. I probably slept too much…….”

As I sat there holding my head, the pain gradually eased.

“……?”

Something long, thin, and cool gently parted my lips.

Then something sweet and cold fluttered into my mouth.

I swallowed reflexively.

My eyes widened.

The headache vanished as if it had been a lie.

“What was that?”

I finally lifted my head and looked toward Caliburn.

“…….”

Then I froze.

“Hey, you lunatic.”

I immediately grabbed his robe and smacked his broad back.

Smack! Smack!

Plenty of surface area to hit.

“Was I asleep for that long? You couldn’t even wait and dragged in your lovers?”

“Hahahaha, darling, jealous? I didn’t drag them in. Like I said before, Bran is difficult to access physically, so this is strictly via projection—”

Around Caliburn, who sat atop jeweled vines, multiple small floating screens buzzed like bees.

Chatter overlapped in several voices.

I couldn’t understand a word.

Of course I couldn’t.

Even humans use different languages among themselves—how would I understand non-human ones?

“I don’t need to understand!”

It was obvious anyway!

I pointed accusingly at the screens.

At the various inhuman beings filling them.

“This is absurd! Not even one person—no, not even one entity? Why does every screen have a different face? How many are you juggling? Are you an octopus? A squid? Show me under that robe! You’ve got tentacles in there, don’t you? Like a sea anemone!”

“Hahahaha, darling, you’re jumping ahead. We haven’t progressed that far yet. If you strip me so suddenly, I’ll be shy—”

Seeing him clutch his robe like some tragic beauty offered to a corrupt official made my temper flare so fiercely that I forgot all about my earlier headache.

“You lunatic!”

And this is supposed to be the one safe human—no, safe creature—here?

“He’s insane.”

I muttered.

Immediately, a plaintive voice replied.

“I’m reflecting and you’re so cold, darling.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

Wrong address.

When I turned sharply, I saw Caliburn kneeling with his hands raised.

“……I saw you raise them just now.”

“Hahaha, just resting them. Briefly.”

“Why are you even kneeling?”

That was the part I didn’t understand most.

“I never told you to.”

“Hahaha. Feeling better now?”

“Stop acting like I ordered you because I was mad!”

What’s the point of having ears if you don’t listen!

“…….”

Wait.

Does he even have ears?

The robe hides everything.

“Darling?”

“Ah.”

I snapped back to focus.

Whether he had ears or not didn’t matter.

“Hahaha. I feel like you were thinking something disappointing just now.”

Ignore him.

“What did you mean earlier when you said ‘insane’?”

Caliburn had already shifted to sitting cross-legged, leaning back as if this were his own living room.

The nerve.

“I checked the item record for OZ.”

The skin of the Sangsa Snake that had assimilated with OZ had turned into an item in my possession.

Like the half-white, half-black hide before it.

‘Though I can’t use that one anymore.’

I had fused with it once as a cursed item to avoid suspicion from other candidates.

Now it was unusable for its original purpose.

A waste, but unavoidable.

“It’s ridiculous.”

“In what way?”

“Advantage!”

Everything OZ possessed at the moment he was swallowed had converted into sub-effects of the item.

I had just confirmed it.

“The bonus effects on the Lord title are crazy.”

At this point, OZ had only one title: Central Count.

Title ‘Lord’ Effects

+20 Strength

+10 Vitality

+30 Authority

Each turn, resources are consumed if buildings are constructed or subjects are maintained.

Each turn, resources are gained through buildings or subjects’ labor.

Higher loyalty from subjects increases Authority.

No buildings or subjects currently owned.

※ As a Count, all points gained per turn receive +5 bonus.

Caliburn, now fully reclining, propped his chin on his hand.

“Did you never try being a Lord in the edited file version? You’ve seen fifty-four endings.”

“I didn’t even know it was possible.”

The player’s starting stats were abysmal.

“In the setting, the weakest among candidates.”

It was baffling how the player even qualified.

Usually protagonists are either underdogs or overpowered monsters.

“This is unfair.”

Thinking about it made me indignant.

“The Five Stars were basically Lords even before Day 2. And I have to compete with them to become king?”

“Hahaha, true.”

Then he added lightly,

“Want to quit?”

“As if.”

“Hahaha.”

Idiot.

I shot him a look and returned to inspecting the snake skin.

‘Sigils don’t matter now.’

All the master creatures were dead.

Still, OZ’s base stats were good enough that even my bare body was weaker.

And there was the Lord title……

Item: Sangsa Snake Skin

The skin of a Sangsa Snake that never leaves the one it loves. Currently assimilated with its beloved target.

Effect: While worn, others perceive the wearer as the one swallowed by the Sangsa Snake.

※ The Sangsa Snake used for this item is degraded.

※ Repeated duplication of creatures or items may result in degradation.

That last line confused me.

“Caliburn, what does ‘degraded creature’ mean? It says duplication can cause degradation.”

Then it clicked.

“Wait. Shop items—are they copies of originals? Is there a real one somewhere?”

“Hahaha.”

“You bootleg bastard!”

“Hahahahaha.”

“Stop laughing!”

I grabbed his collar and shook him.

He just laughed, swaying loosely.

“There are other sloppy parts too.”

“Such as?”

“Broken text in item descriptions!”

I pulled up the previous script and showed him the glitched letters.

“Here. This part.”

The half-white, half-black hide.

Smelly, but useful.

“Hahaha, that part. You can guess the meaning though.”

“What if later it’s so broken I can’t? What if I buy something thinking it’s fine and get scammed?”

“Hahaha, I’m not that bad a merchant.”

“So you made it! It’s sloppy!”

“Hahaha. As long as the basics are solid.”

I tried to protest, but he easily removed my grip.

So lightly.

“Should I invest in Strength?”

“Not a bad idea. Muscles help in daily life.”

“Planning to be a trainer—wait, why aren’t you letting go?”

He ignored that and instead pulled me forward.

Effortlessly lifting me into the air.

“Careful, you’ll dislocate my shoulder— …oh.”

Something supported my feet.

Maybe jeweled vines.

“What are you doing?”

“Bonding?”

Our fingers were interlocked.

His arm wrapped around my waist.

“What exercise do you do?”

I had meant to mock him, but what came out was that.

His arm felt like a log.

“Hahaha, none.”

“None?”

“Real men build muscle just by breathing.”

“Quit whatever site you’re on.”

“Thinking strange things again?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Then his tone softened.

“You don’t need to worry about degradation or duplication.”

I looked up.

“Remember? The game you played was an edited file of an existing reality.”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Items in the shop are similar.”

Light flickered in my mind.

“They’re edited files too?”

“Close enough.”

His voice lowered.

“So there’s no problem using them. Slightly weaker than the original source. If your Sangsa Snake had been the original, it would’ve fallen for Central at first sight and ignored your commands. Might’ve bitten you out of jealousy.”

I did not laugh.

“In short, they’re refined materials—optimized for beginners. Like fish with bones removed.”

“…….”

“So? Praise?”

I didn’t want to.

“You didn’t do it for me.”

“Of course I’m fair.”

He forced my hand to pat his robe.

“Self-praise. Well done, Caliburn.”

“Self? This is exploitation!”

“Hahaha. Caliburn may not even have ears.”

“Can you read my mind?”

“Hahaha. Your expressions are obvious.”

He pulled me along.

“What now?”

We stopped under a massive glass-trunked tree with jeweled branches.

“Allowance?” I asked hopefully.

He plucked a fruit and handed it to me.

I looked.

“…You bootleg bastard.”

It was a bamboo tube.

“Is this some hidden treasure disguised as—”

“It’s a bamboo tube.”

Hope died.

“I’m fair. So I can only give you useless things.”

“How can someone be this annoying?”

“Hahaha.”

“What’s inside?”

“Inspired by you cultivating seeds in tubes. Ever heard of the Pillow Chicken? A tiny frost-born chick raised in a wooden tube. Makes a great alarm clock.”

“Useless.”

“Hahaha. Exactly.”

I stopped shaking it.

“So is that what’s inside?”

“Maybe.”

“Selling random boxes now?”

“They’re all useless anyway.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Throwing it away?”

He followed me, chanting.

“Throwing it away? Throwing it away?”

Ignore.

“Throwing it away? I’ll curse you. Every package you order will arrive empty, filled only with recyclable trash.”

“Just call your lovers instead!”

In some ways, he truly was something else.