The Story You Absolutely Need to Know to Survive (Part 4)

There’s a system that always appears after you see a bad ending in WWC.

Technically, it can show up after other endings too.

But how would I know? I’ve seen all 54 endings—and every single one was a bad ending.

Anyway.

This damn trash game.

Trash of all trash games.

I should never have started it.

“And thus, it’s interview time.”

I privately called that bonus system the “interview.”

Because the NPC Selector would go over my previous choices, pointing out what went wrong here and there, offering advice.

It really did feel like a counseling session.

“Professor, I will not be enrolling in graduate school.”

I muttered nonsense out of habit, but instead of a cold response, I got one that played along.

“Hahaha, why not?”

“I don’t have the money.”

“Hahaha, that’s all? Take out a loan.”

“I already have student loans stacked sky-high from undergrad. Honestly, you silver-spoon types…”

As I joked, I remembered my real-life debt and felt a little gloomy.

Damn it. I should stop role-playing.

Anyway, the place where the Selector had gathered the candidates was the summit of a mountain.

More precisely, what used to be the tallest mountain in the world.

Used to be, because during the collapse, its peak had been sliced in half.

“Haha, do you like snowstorms?”

At his question, I tilted my head.

“There’s a window over there, but… I can’t see anything.”

When the snowstorm rages hard enough, everything turns white.

If not for the wind, I would’ve thought someone had pasted frosted film over the glass.

“I figured you might enjoy looking at the snowstorm even if you can’t see anything.”

“That snowstorm never stops, does it?”

Ever since the peak was severed, this place had been locked in winter.

A constant blizzard.

“It’s not that it never stops.”

The unexpected answer made me halt mid-step.

It stops?

“I’ve never seen it stop in 54 endings.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

The Selector paused and turned toward me.

Did he hear that?

“It can stop when it’s no longer needed. That’s how things are.”

I relaxed.

Maybe he hadn’t caught it.

“When it’s no longer needed?”

I thought it over.

“When a king is chosen?”

This place existed to isolate candidates and select a king.

Now that I thought about it, in all 54 endings I’d seen, the player never became king.

“That could be it.”

“So there are things even you don’t know.”

“Hahaha, you overestimate me. I’m not a god.”

“But you look like one. Like some legendary archmage.”

Long robe. Hood. Classic NPC wizard skin.

“Anyway, I guess we’ll know once a king appears.”

“Or you could see a new ending.”

He gestured for us to keep walking.

“About what you said earlier—it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t save Jeok-o on purpose, it was just a coincidence—”

I started rambling excuses, then froze.

He had stopped too.

“Or should I say… ending?”

Cold sweat trickled down my back.

He heard.

“Hahaha, no need to panic. I told you, the interview is just a formality.”

He had said that earlier in the hall.

I scrambled for composure.

“You know what I am?”

“It’s hard to know for certain. I’m not a god.”

“But you have a general idea.”

“Haha. Think of me as a legendary archmage.”

He raised his hand.

“You don’t look like you can wait until we reach my quarters.”

Glittering butterflies burst outward, forming a translucent cube around us.

“Nothing said inside this cube will leak outside.”

So, speak freely.

Still—

“The world ended overnight. What’s left to be surprised about?”

Fair point.

“If speaking is difficult, how about multiple choice? One: you returned from the future. Two: you’re stuck in a time loop. Three: you saw the future through dreams or a book. Four: you’re not the original owner of this body. And… what were the trendy keywords again?”

“Can I choose more than one?”

“Of course.”

I held up three fingers.

“Three. And four.”

“So you saw future events through a book or dream, and on top of that, you possessed this body?”

He paused.

“Since you said ‘ending,’ it could even be a game.”

I stared at him in genuine shock.

That was exactly right.

“You know about games?”

“Hahaha, this isn’t exactly high fantasy. I know about consoles too.”

Fair enough.

“It was a game.”

A trash game, I nearly added.

“Fifty-four endings? That’s either a masterpiece or a disaster.”

“……”

“Hahaha, disaster?”

He wasn’t angry?

“The world already physically ended, so what’s one more failure? Anyway, the editing of worldlines happens often.”

“Editing of worldlines?”

“In simple terms, when a real worldline gets adapted into fiction in another world.”

A butterfly shimmered into a book, then a game cartridge, then a film reel.

“Sometimes worlds overlap by accident. Stories from one leak into another. People think it’s inspiration and create fiction. That’s worldline editing.”

So that’s what divine revelation really was.

“Then the game I played was that.”

He simply smiled.

“So that’s how it is.”

“If that’s the case, they could’ve adjusted the difficulty.”

“Was it hard?”

“Don’t even ask. Fifty-four bad endings.”

I had been tense, but his casual tone eased me.

“I struggled to survive and got killed, mutilated, taxidermied, imprisoned, soul extracted—”

Mid-complaint, a chill crept up my neck.

“Haha.”

He stood taller than me, even on level ground.

I laughed too—not because it was funny, but because I felt like I might piss myself otherwise.

“Selector.”

“Call me Caliburn. Or Cal.”

Right. In-game, we called him that.

But that wasn’t important.

“You said worldline editing is when a world’s timeline becomes fiction elsewhere.”

Which means—

“The 54 endings I saw—”

“They happened in other worldlines of this world.”

He said it lightly.

“As for whether they might happen here as well…”

“Caliburn.”

“Yes?”

I looked at the archmage-like figure and spoke sincerely.

“Send me back to where I originally lived.”

“Hahaha, Your Majesty.”

He gazed down at me kindly—at least, that’s how it felt.

“I told you. I’m not a god.”

“But you’re an archmage. Isn’t that enough?”

“If I could do that, I’d quit and start a religion.”

“If you’re delivering a death sentence, could you at least sound less cheerful?”

“Hahaha, I’m not human. Why would I have a conscience?”

Right.

Caliburn wasn’t human.

I almost grabbed his robe and begged.

“One disaster after another.”

What now?

“I personally think this problem has only one answer.”

His voice cut through my despair.

“What do you mean?”

His lips curved under the hood’s shadow.

“You said it was a game. Did you see the true ending?”

“No…”

My brain turned slowly.

“Ah.”

He waited patiently.

“Ah. Ah!”

I grabbed his robe and leaned forward.

“If I reach the true ending, can I go back?”

The moment I said it, my confidence deflated.

“I’ve only seen bad endings.”

“Then perhaps you can avoid them.”

“Maybe.”

But still—

While I struggled to think, his amused voice floated down.

“Would you like Caliburn’s guidance?”

Suddenly I remembered the interview system.

After every bad ending, he had calmly pointed out my mistakes.

“You’ll help me?”

In the game full of landmines, he had been the only NPC who never harmed me.

“It’s interview time.”

So even here—

Finally, I could see a path.

A way to survive this trash game.