Chapter 43

How a Regressor Conquers the Tower of Urban Legends

Chapter 43

I stood inside the elevator, gripping the notebook as I stared ahead.

So this was why everyone managed to pass Floor 9.

The others could still clear this place even after losing their memories.

Because they didn't regress.

Put simply, even if they arrived at the end with every memory erased, they could still complete Floor 9.

Losing their memories wasn't necessarily a problem when it came to clearing the floor itself.

The people wandering around Floor 9 on the map back in Floor 0.5...

Maybe...

"..."

Maybe they really had forgotten everything.

That wouldn't happen to me.

Still, I couldn't help the bitter taste in my mouth.

I stepped forward and looked ahead.

Floor 9's structure was simpler than I'd expected.

It was just a small room, around thirty steps across.

And in the middle of that room was something round that made a clicking sound.

If I wanted to get through this place...

"We break it."

Simple.

The core of this room was the unknown object in the center of Floor 9.

That thing was the reason I kept regressing.

This floor wasn't like the others I'd climbed.

The answer wasn't avoiding it.

It wasn't running away.

This time, I had no choice but to confront it head-on.

But the others had probably always tried to clear it through avoidance.

They only had one life.

They had to stay cautious.

They couldn't afford to create the worst possible situation.

But I was different.

If I failed, I could try again.

Of course, I couldn't waste my lives carelessly.

But preserving my life at the cost of losing every memory I had would be meaningless.

"?!"

The mascot stared at me in horror after hearing what I said.

Why was it reacting like that?

"?!?!!!?!"

"You mean I shouldn't break it?"

"..."

When I asked, the mascot put a hand to its chin and started thinking.

What was that supposed to mean?

"...!!"

Then it shook its head.

"So should I break it or not?"

"...!"

Break it.

Right?

"Could there be some kind of side effect?"

"..."

The mascot tilted its head but didn't react beyond that.

Meaning, as far as it knew, there wasn't any major problem.

Good.

Then I'd break it.

Sure, I could simply accept the memory loss and move on to Floor 10.

But something bothered me.

Let's think back to what happened when I answered the phone earlier.

I'd lost most of my memories.

My name.

And everything from my life before entering this building.

Yet I hadn't regressed.

Even though I'd lost most of the memories that made me who I was, regression hadn't triggered.

Why?

The answer came surprisingly quickly.

Because what I considered the point where I began and what my regression considered the beginning were different.

I, No. 150, had lived an entire life before entering this building.

A much longer life, in fact.

I'd lived with my family.

Spent time with friends.

And even if they weren't all good memories, I'd worked at a company too.

But my regression ability had only appeared after I entered this place.

Which meant...

"If every memory from before this building disappeared and I still didn't regress..."

"?"

"...Then my regression only recognizes the memories from this place as 'me.'"

The danger my regression cared about was losing the memories I'd gained after entering this building.

Whatever kind of life I'd lived before that...

Even if every last memory of it vanished...

My regression wouldn't react.

I had to be careful.

Always remember who I was.

Never stop remembering.

Regression might protect my life.

But it wouldn't protect who I was.

"...?"

"You're asking how I'm going to break it?"

I interpreted the mascot's tilted head and nodded.

"What if you break it for me?"

"..."

The mascot made an awkward gesture.

"What? You don't want to take the risk yourself?"

"?!?!!?!!"

It hurriedly shook its head.

I had only been teasing.

But if that wasn't the reason, why was it refusing so strongly?

Unless...

"It won't mean anything unless I break it?"

"!"

So that was it.

Fine.

Understood.

Whatever happened, I had to be the one to destroy it.

Then I'd just follow the plan.

I clenched and unclenched my fist.

I needed physical force.

But I didn't have a gun.

Or a knife.

Not even gloves.

I did have the sharpened stake I'd prepared to stab into my own neck in case I needed to regress.

"..."

Maybe I should use that.

I sighed quietly and pulled out the stake.

"I'll close my eyes and cover my ears. Guide me in front of the thing."

"..."

"Please."

"...!"

The mascot nodded with a strangely solemn air.

I closed my eyes and covered my ears.

All right.

Let's do this.

I ripped some stuffing from the pillow and packed it into my ears.

Then, just in case, I put the Silent Headset firmly over them too.

"...Good."

Now no matter how much the mascot moved, I wouldn't know what it was saying.

...Then again, the mascot couldn't talk in the first place.

I didn't know what it was saying anyway.

A moment later, I felt its soft hand settle on my shoulder.

Good.

Holding the stake tightly, I slowly walked wherever the mascot guided me.

And all the while, I kept repeating my memories.

My name.

My age.

My workplace.

My family.

My friends.

My past.

Like a wheel turning endlessly, I muttered facts about myself over and over as I walked.

Then I abruptly stopped.

Had the mascot stopped me here?

I kept my eyes closed.

What memory had I lost?

"..."

I didn't know.

Of course I didn't.

If you knew something you'd forgotten, you wouldn't call it forgotten.

To forget something meant it had vanished somewhere you could no longer reach.

Still...

At least I remembered everything important.

"My name, age, workplace, family, friends..."

I murmured them one by one, making sure the information I remembered was still correct.

Then I raised my hand.

"Should I strike here? If yes, squeeze my shoulder."

The mascot's hand tightened firmly around my shoulder.

Good.

I raised the stake high.

Then brought it down with all my strength.

CRASH!

I felt something shatter.

My body staggered.

And information poured back into my head.

Things I had forgotten.

A memory of standing beneath warm sunlight in the middle of spring, flowers blooming everywhere.

A freezing winter night after overtime, carrying a bag of roasted sweet potatoes home to my family.

And countless other memories I'd lost.

Did everyone else get their memories back too?

I didn't know.

"..."

I opened my tightly shut eyes.

The full view of Floor 9 finally appeared.

A dark room.

A room where almost nothing could be seen.

And in the center...

"...A camera?"

There was a camera with a shattered lens.

The glass had scattered everywhere, as though something sharp had smashed through it.

The mascot stood beside it, scratching its cheek.

I carefully picked up the camera.

Was this what had been stealing my memories?

I lifted it and examined it.

Now, I felt nothing.

I only saw my own reflection faintly caught in the broken camera.

"Is that it?"

I muttered and looked ahead.

"...?"

The place where the exit elevator had been was now a long corridor.

"At this point, I'm not even surprised anymore. Right?"

"..."

The mascot gave no real response.

I stared at it for a moment, then started walking.

The corridor stretched straight ahead.

The lighting was dim.

Photographs lined both sides like an exhibition gallery.

I walked while looking at them.

There was no common theme at all.

Some were enormous close-ups of children's faces.

Others were nothing but empty landscapes.

If I had to find one thing they shared...

"...Their lack of anything in common is probably the only thing they have in common."

"..."

I looked at the mascot as I spoke.

No consistency.

That itself made them stand out.

Almost like...

"These are photographs collected from Floor 9, aren't they?"

"..."

The mascot still said nothing.

It simply stood beside me as if protecting me.

"Are you worried about me?"

"...!"

"Yeah, well... I'm fine."

Even if I wasn't, there was nothing else I could do.

I wasn't going to leave my memories behind.

And not only mine.

The others' memories too.

I kept walking, taking in each photograph as I passed.

How long had we walked?

"..."

Something unexpected finally appeared.

A darkroom.

A room filled only with the red light photographers used when developing film.

More photographs hung inside.

And beyond them stood an elevator.

I looked at the elevator briefly, then turned back toward the darkroom.

It wasn't time to leave yet.

I began searching through the developed photographs one by one.

If my theory was right...

"It should be here..."

"...?"

"Give me a second."

Ignoring the mascot's tilted head, I continued searching.

Then...

"Knew it."

I finally found a familiar photograph.

Warm sunlight shining through a spring full of blooming flowers.

A bag of roasted sweet potatoes held in my hand on a freezing winter night after working overtime.

And several other scenes that still existed in my memories.

"..."

As I quietly stared at photographs of my own memories...

BZZZZ...

The phone rang.

Perfect timing.

I needed advice right about now.

"Hello."

The moment I answered...

<Looks like you had a bit of a rough time.>

He praised me.

"You're perceptive."

<You're about as smart as I am. Maybe we're even exactly alike.>

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

<I'd like to offer you two solutions regarding those photographs.>

"I'm listening."

That was exactly what I wanted advice on anyway.

If something dangerous was going to happen, this felt like the place.

<The first option is to simply leave them alone and go.>

"What do I gain from that?"

<If photographs exist, then there is probably a photographer.>

"..."

<And a photographer likely won't be too pleased if his photographs disappear.>

"Probably not."

<So the photographer may dislike you a little less.>

"Is there any chance he just won't dislike me at all?"

<You smashed his camera. Don't you think that's asking for a bit much?>

"...Fair."

I'd expected that.

"What's the other option?"

<If you tear up or damage the photographs, all the memories contained within them will return to their owners.>

"..."

<But instead... well, you can probably guess.>

"The photographer will hate me."

<Wouldn't you be angry if someone burned down your workplace?>

Sounds great to me.

That would mean I didn't have to go to work that day.

Thinking that, I gathered all the photographs into one place.

<What are you planning to do?>

"Burn all of them."

<...Why?>

"Hmm."

My own memories were one thing.

But I remembered what No. 24 had written.

Writing over and over while not even remembering where he came from.

How anxious must he have been?

No. 11 too.

And all the others.

"..."

Come to think of it, I didn't have a lighter.

So instead, I began tearing the photographs apart.

Riiip.

I slowly ripped them one by one.

"People matter more than art."

<...>

The only sound in my ears was paper tearing.

The caller said nothing.

Only after I'd destroyed every photograph did his quiet voice come through the speaker.

<Wise choice.>

"I know."

The call ended.

I looked at the torn pieces of photographs, then stepped into the elevator.

It shifted beneath my feet as I entered.

"Good."

"?"

The mascot stared at me after hearing my mutter.

I met its gaze.

"There's something we need to do."

<You have discovered the hidden door of Floor 9.>

<You have destroyed the photographer's works.>

<You have returned the participants' memories.>

<You have earned the participants' gratitude.>

I raised the notebook.

"We've got renovations to fund."

It was time to renovate Floor 0.5.