The Outer God Needs Warmth

The people I met in the past keep appearing.

Rebecca Rolf is blonde. Before I entered—or after I had entered and left—her skin wasn’t a pale white but a glossy white.

“Such a cute young lady. Who are you?”

“That’s Waisin.”

Before I could answer Rebecca’s question, Hyukkesuni, sitting nearby with her back turned, answered instead.

“A reporter from another country?”

“You’re pretending not to know, huh?”

Rebecca chuckled, watching Hyukkesuni grumble. I remember their relationship being pretty bad toward the end.

It was a very strange sight.

Rebecca approached me. She was taller than me. While small in stature, Rebecca was almost fully grown by the standards of the first world.

She came so close that our noses almost touched, and our gazes met. This felt a bit more real. Since I left, Rebecca had been wandering without warmth, let alone light.

“You’re not lost. You don’t seem to be uncertain about your goal, and you have no hesitation.”

Has she always been so observant? Or is she just pulling out my memories and reading them?

I was worried, could the witch really extract and read memories?

I don’t know. So, I decided to move forward.

At least if I head toward the castle over there, it should be fine. The white castle towering far away in the square where I stood.

“Do you have a key?”

Rebecca asked an out-of-place question while looking at me. I only had one key I had obtained here.

It’s strange that the illusion has a context. I took the key from my pocket.

“Did that crying king give it to you? He’s a cruel and merciless king.”

“He didn’t cry.”

It was King Tisha. But I had never seen him cry. Not even when I turned around as I was leaving, did he shed a tear.