Editor 61

The Gate of Mnemosyne (2)

Faced with such a tremendous task, the urge to escape reality naturally arose.

It could never happen, but if ‘Jeongjin’ ever edited the manuscript of for a single-volume publication, he would definitely add this to Melchior’s character introduction.

“Someone who can do anything for his goal. He will become king no matter what sins he commits. That is because it is his revenge against the fate given to him.”

‘To be the author’s errand boy, resented by a mysterious character. This really is hardcore editing, truly.’

Among the editorial horror stories often heard in the industry, wasn’t what ‘Jeongjin’ was experiencing the real legend?

It couldn’t even be compared to things like taking care of a drunken author or having to pulp an entire print run because of the author’s whim about the cover.

‘I can’t even quit.’

Where on earth was there such an unfair contract for outsourced work?

He had resolved to do it, but it seemed he would need more money and better drinks to make up for it.

.

.

.

In the north tower dormitory’s watchtower, two boys and a girl sat closely together.

It was Isiel, Arthur, and Cleio.

It was a narrow place, but the view was wide open. In the back, the far side of the western bank beyond the river could be seen, and in front, the center of the forest where the Gate of Mnemosyne stood was visible.

“So this was the secret spot? Aslan really brought a crowd, didn’t he?”

Arthur, who had enhanced his eyesight with ether [Enhancement], looked with great interest at the middle of the forest. The area around the ‘Gate of Mnemosyne’ was unusually crowded.

Cleio, who had activated “Perception,” also saw the usual number of Capital Defense Knights dispatched for routine security and twice as many Cruel Knights.

The Cruel Knights were originally those who had no justification to be here.

Aslan had barged in as he pleased, and Melchior had turned a blind eye to the overreach.

“Aslan must have always been interested in the ‘Remembered World,’ huh?”

“Yeah. That was one of the things he was oddly obsessed with.”

“Hey, then, now that the gate’s open, isn’t he leaving you alone?”

“That’s true… but since the monster incident, there haven’t been any night visitors, which actually makes me more anxious.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, though? They’re so focused on the dungeon, they’ve stopped worrying about catching you.”

“Ah! But it’s annoying! I hate seeing those Cruel Knights with black sashes walking back and forth at school.”

“What are you going to do if you hate it?”

“Wish they’d disappear?”

“Sure. Go ahead and pray. Maybe they’ll all disappear after entering the gate.”

“I heard the first expedition that went in three days ago hasn’t come out, and the entrance count on the Gate of Mnemosyne lit up again.”

“What? Already?”

“They’ve been recruiting new volunteers for the past two days, and apparently all the Cruel Knights are eager to join.”

After turning off “Perception,” Cleio’s hand slipped as he poured the warmed liquor. The alcohol spilled outside the tin cup.

“But Ray, did you just say ‘already’? Don’t tell me you predicted this ‘Remembered World’ thing too?”

Arthur quickly picked up on Cleio’s surprise at the change from the previous manuscript.

“Well, you could say that. Are you suddenly impressed by how great a companion you have?”

Arthur and Isiel stared at Cleio in astonishment. Regretting his unprofitable bluff, Cleio quickly changed the subject.

“I was joking, why so serious? I told you, my ‘predictions’ are imperfect. I got it wrong again this time. I thought the reset cycle for the ‘Remembered World’ would be longer.”

In the previous manuscript, the first ‘Remembered World’ reset cycle was three days.

Even considering difficulty balancing, three days seemed appropriate for the protagonist to clear the first dungeon.

‘Time flows differently inside and outside the dungeon. Three days inside means a week passes outside. Calculating the other way, if three days pass outside, only about a day passes inside? Why did they change the time to be so short? Did they adjust the difficulty?’

Arthur asked again.

“Did your ‘prediction’ tell you that?”

“Yeah, I have that feeling.”

Arthur took the bottle, wrapped in a yarn pouch, from Cleio and poured a drink for himself into a dented tin cup.

The scent of spiced, heated cider spread through the chilly autumn air.

“What do you think happened to the knights who went in?”

Isiel, who was drinking her share of rose tea, spoke up.

“They’re probably dead.”

The cold conclusion was true.

If you were a student at the Royal Capital Defense School, you learned this as soon as you enrolled.

Cleio, having missed all the early first semester history classes, crammed for the test on the Gate of Mnemosyne.

The content in the textbook was almost identical to the previous manuscript.

Every ‘Remembered World’ had a ‘Master Clock’ at its center that maintained temporal synchronicity.

If you didn’t stop the ‘Master Clock’ within the time limit, the clock returned to its origin and the dungeon reset.

Dangerous monsters lurked inside the dungeon. No matter how much you prepared, it couldn’t be anything but dangerous.

‘More than anything, this dungeon doesn’t have much of a reward. Just some clothes—Arthur even sold them to some noble in the previous manuscript. Would the protagonist bother to step up just to get something like that? Better let Aslan’s forces get whittled down.’

“Arthur, you’d better not act up about going into the gate, no matter what, okay?”

“What do you mean, act up… you’re the only one who says things like that to me.”

The guy whose life was directly tied to the world was talking nonchalantly again.

He was confident in his abilities and gutsy, being a prince.

Thanks to that, Cleio’s worries only deepened.

‘Sigh— I can’t just blurt out talk of the world ending.’

“By the way, Arthur, what’s your ether level? Did anything change lately?”

Cleio himself could read messages thanks to the ‘oath,’ but even ether sensitives could apparently sense their own level increases.

“I’m still level 5.”

“Then really, absolutely, under no circumstances should you go into the ‘Remembered World.’”

“What do you know this time?”

“This much is certain. You’ll definitely need [Origin of Advance] in there. You need to be at least level 6. And you’d better bring mana stones to use as shields.”

“Then can’t you just help, Ray? Your magic—that incredible spear—is leagues above something like [Origin of Advance]. Not to mention your defensive magic.”

Cleio’s eyes narrowed at Arthur’s nonsense.

“Are you kidding? Why would I go in there?”

“It’s full of rare mana stones and precious magic tools, along with fierce monsters.”

“Hell no. I’m not risking my life for some reward. Don’t even dream of it. You’re not interested in that stuff anyway. Go train your sword skills.”

“But I do want to fight monsters!”

Arthur’s eyes sparkled as he started saying he actually wanted to fight Varg.

“Isiel, you heard that, right? Make sure your thick-headed lord here doesn’t get reckless.”

“Lord Arthur isn’t a rash person. Don’t say such things.”

“Anyway, this dungeon definitely needs shields and area attacks. Judging by how Aslan’s only sending junior knights, he doesn’t know. After scraping up all those old documents, they’re not even worth a stigmata!”

“Old documents?”

“Sometimes rotten old papers are found at ruins and such. They say they have knowledge about the ‘Remembered World’ beyond the ‘Gate of Mnemosyne’ that isn’t even taught at our school. I’ve never seen them myself, but my brother is obsessed with finding them.”

Cleio gripped his tin cup tightly to avoid spilling any more precious liquor.

‘Melchior isn’t enough, acting up with his unique skill, and Aslan is obsessed with the dungeon…’

It was a headache.

The only way it made sense was if he knew that treasures from the ‘Remembered World’ paved the way to the throne.

Originally, both the justification and the dungeon spoils should have gone to Arthur. How to get them back into the protagonist’s hands…

‘No. It’s not worth stepping up now. Wait for the right time.’

Anyway, this world was meant to revolve around Arthur.

“By the way, Arthur, are those old documents about the ‘Remembered World’ common? I’ve never heard of them.”

“If they were, Aslan wouldn’t be so desperate. He’s got money and subordinates to spare.”

“Hm.”

“This is a secret, but I heard from Hileida that the royal library is full of such strange old documents and forbidden magic books. Only people authorized by the king can enter, so I don’t know if it’s true.”

“Couldn’t Aslan get authorized easily enough?”

“Father’s not in his right mind right now. In that case, the regent would have to approve it, but why would my eldest brother do that for the second?”

“So that’s how it is….”

Royal library. He made a mental note.

The phrase ‘rotten old papers’ bothered him too much. Knowing about the existence of palimpsests, Cleio couldn’t take it lightly.

Just thinking about the other two princes gave him a headache, and now with another suspicious element, his forehead throbbed. Cleio pressed his cold fingers to his brow.

‘Sometimes cold hands come in handy. Good for cooling my head.’

Then he reached for the liquor.

“Arthur, did you finish it all?”

“There was only a cup and a half to begin with. Can’t give it back.”

Arthur shook the shallow canteen tauntingly.

“Hey! I brought that in the first place….”

“Trying to take back what you gave? So stingy.”

There was no way Cleio could snatch the canteen by speed or strength. If he used a circle, all the effort to watch from hiding would go to waste, so Arthur teased him, knowing Cleio wouldn’t use magic.

Isiel joined in.

“Yeah. Stop drinking, Cleio. You’re drinking too much.”

“Warmed cider isn’t even alcohol.”

“There’s a stronger liquor mixed into the cider. Didn’t you mix it? One cup should be enough to warm you up. The problem is you get cold too easily.”

Isiel tightly wrapped Cleio’s slightly loosened muffler. It was a rather rough gesture.

“You two can reinforce your bodies with ether, but I can’t. I’m a mage!”

Swordsmen who could use ether internally could [enhance] their bodies so cold never penetrated in the first place.

A mage could light a fire with magic to warm up, but couldn’t do what the knights did.

It was the same with stopping bleeding or healing—no matter how great a mage, they couldn’t heal their own wounds.

In other words, any technique that used ether inside the body was impossible for mages.

So, the knights inevitably saw all mages as pampered scholars.

“You’re too frail even for a mage. The other day you couldn’t even walk and had to rely on others, and now you’re drinking?”

“That’s….”

Now Isiel had completely decided Cleio was a sickly weakling who got sick at the slightest breeze.

He’d solved the Tiphlaum magic formula, the main cause was Melchior, and the ‘Banner’ group had also slashed his HP in chunks—none of which Cleio could explain, so his lips just moved.

Knowing Cleio’s frustration, Arthur grinned and joined in the teasing.

“Isiel’s just worried about you, Ray. While I ran ahead to school with the professor, Isiel stayed behind and carried you.”

“Yeah, so stop drinking.”

Isiel grasped Cleio’s cup as if to snatch it away.

At that moment.

Thud, plop—

A jet-black cat landed nimbly between the boys and girl, moving with an agility belying its size.

“Mya?! (Alcohol?!)”

Behemoth tilted his head in a cute, imploring way that only appeared in front of booze.

Isiel’s already large eyes grew even larger. It was rare for her usually stoic expression to change.

‘She must really like cats.’

Seeing her hand twitch, she must have wanted to pet it.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Cleio quickly snatched the cup, but Behemoth placed a front paw firmly on Cleio’s arm and started licking the rim of the cup he’d just saved.

“Eooooong (You can even mix Calvados in hot cider now; you’ve got the basics down.)”

After finishing Cleio’s share, the cat started pawing at Arthur to get the bottle of liquor.

“Weooooork (I’ve returned from a scouting mission, so pour me another drink.)”

Do drinkers understand each other even if they’re not speaking human language?

Arthur poured half a cup of liquor into the bowl on the floor, then looked to Cleio, the presumed owner, for permission.

“This cat must be asking because he can drink, right? He just had a ton.”

“Yeah… I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to.”

“Myaaaaaak! Myaaaaak! (Just a few drops? Is this supposed to be a drink or not?!)”

After Behemoth seized all the remaining liquor, he finally quieted down. With his fill, Behemoth cozied up on Cleio’s lap.

While stroking the warm Behemoth, Cleio didn’t stop his warning.

“Let the Cruel Knights keep challenging the gate under Aslan’s patronage. Arthur, your only job is to train.”

“Can’t believe I’m getting that from someone who sleeps in every day….”

“I told you, I’m a mage and you’re a swordsman. How can we be treated the same?”

---

On the sixth day since the ‘Remembered World’ gate opened.

The second expedition sent in three days ago had not returned either. At dawn, Behemoth reported that the entrance count above the gate had lit up again.

Ignoring the Capital Defense Knights’ opinion that the gate was still blue and they should wait and watch, Prince Aslan organized a third expedition from the Cruel Knights.

Every three days, groups of four knights or soldiers entered the gate.

So the night of the ninth day since the gate opened grew deep.

As revealed that morning, the third expedition had also not returned.

Behemoth pressed Cleio’s arm as he lay down, meowing.

“The color of the gate is still stable, so the Capital Defense Knights decided to keep watching… but the second prince is impatient and wants to organize the next search party right away.”

“What’s he in such a hurry for?”

“Since the Cruel Knights have a bunch of eager young ones from the provinces, everyone’s desperate to make a name for themselves. It’s not like monsters are about to break out, so why is the second prince pushing the knights so hard?”

“Then for now, the students don’t need to get involved?”

“The Capital Defense Knights have priority. While the gate is still blue, there’s no reason to borrow the children’s strength. You needn’t worry.”

“That’s a relief. Honestly, if Aslan’s voluntarily reducing his own forces, we should be grateful.”

Death is frightening.

But if knights trained in swordsmanship voluntarily jump into adventure and die as a result, there’s nothing Cleio can do about it.

His attitude was consistent.

‘None of my business.’

Arthur and Isiel felt similarly. For now, it was only natural to be cautious since no one knew what was inside the gate.

He had just turned out the light and crawled under the blanket, hugging the plump, clever cat, when an urgent knocking sounded at the dorm window.

‘What’s this.’

There was only one person who would come in by a window at night.

Just as Cleio was about to ignore it and go to sleep, Isiel’s small voice came through the window.

“Wake up, Cleio.”

“Wait, Isiel, why are you….”

When he opened the window, Isiel came in with the cold wind and explained the situation urgently.

“To enter the boys’ dorm after midnight, I’d have to wake the dorm supervisor. There’s no time for that.”

For rule-abiding Isiel to break school rules and climb into the dorm meant something big was happening.

“What’s going on?”

“Lord Arthur is about to enter the ‘Gate of Mnemosyne.’ I need your help!”