So many shocking memories surged in all at once that I couldn’t get a grip on myself. What on earth am I looking at?

[Attribute, ‘Record Mender’ is activating.]
[Exclusive skill, ‘Fourth Wall’ is activating!]

What little I managed to pull myself together was thanks to that attribute and skill.

「Cheon Inho reached the ‘end of the world.’」

The journeys I saw from the ‘40th turn’ began to be organized into sentences.

「There, he met the Goblin King and crossed the ‘Final Wall.’」

Even that alone was an unbelievable feat. Clearing the ‘Final Scenario’ in a single turn—without Yoo Joonghyuk or the main characters’ help. Even if he borrowed the power of ‘Divine Artificial Intelligence,’ it should’ve been impossible.

And yet Cheon Inho did it. As an extra—neither protagonist nor supporting character.

What did Cheon Inho want to show?

Did he want to show that even without lofty ideals or convictions, if you had nothing but the purpose of seeing the end of the scenario, you could do it without being the protagonist?

And at the end of that fiercely lived life, what did he obtain?

「At the end of the world, what Cheon Inho faced was a vast snowfield.」

I could tell where that place was. The gaps between sentences. A cold land where no story was written—where only a single person’s gaze existed.

Cheon Inho was the first to step there, and at the end of that snowfield, he found something.

「Kim Dokja.」

The chill on my spine wouldn’t stop.

No way. Was it Cheon Inho who raised ‘Snowfield Kim Dokja’?

And the memories didn’t end there, either.

「“I see. As the price of loving that story so much, you were abandoned here.”」

Cheon Inho’s voice, coming through in fragments.

「“Don’t worry. I won’t abandon you.”」

Blurred images flashed past.

In those images, Cheon Inho held the child in his arms, or walked while holding his hand. It even looked like they were talking back and forth about something.

The two of them looked up at the white night sky, watched falling stars, and walked while humming. Sometimes they smiled with similar expressions.

If I hadn’t known anything, it would’ve looked like a beautiful scene.

「“Come on. Shall we walk together?”」

Then came the sound of sparks.

As the memories tangled, the last voice I heard was this.

「“Until the day this world is destroyed.”」

[■■-grade terror, the final chapter of ‘Sophist of Evil’ has been completed.]
[You have achieved a nonexistent feat!]
[You have acquired a new fable!]
[<Star Stream> is evaluating the grade of the fable you have acquired!]
[The dokkaebis of the Bureau cannot hide their shock at your achievement.]

.
.
.

[The balance of the worldline is shaking!]

When I came to my senses, I was slumped down in the snowfield inside the screen. I didn’t know why I was here. Instead, a familiar pair of dress shoes—ones that might explain it—was right in front of me.

I called the name of the man with no footprints.

“Cheon Inho.”

When I slowly lifted my head, a man with a familiar face was there.

“Are you the one who raised ‘Kim Dokja’?”

“He looked quite a lot like you.”

The face I’d seen the most in this world. At the window of the screen door, beyond the mirror—the eyes that had always faced me were now ‘truly’ looking at me.

When I stood up, our eye level finally matched.

As if he liked that fact, Cheon Inho said,

“You finally look like someone who’s curious about a villain’s story.”

I nodded honestly.

“I’m curious.”

“Shall we walk a bit?”

We stood side by side and started walking across the snow-covered plain. But since Cheon Inho left no footprints, whenever I turned around, it looked like I’d been walking alone.

“The Kim Dokja you raised… is he the ‘Kim Dokja’ I know?”

“In this worldline, there are many Kim Dokjas. The Demon King of Salvation, the Watcher of Light and Darkness, and….”

“You know perfectly well who I mean.”

Cheon Inho just smiled without answering, so I pressed him.

“Is the Kim Dokja you raised the ‘Snowfield Kim Dokja’ I know?”

“‘Snowfield Kim Dokja.’”

As if he found the nickname interesting, Cheon Inho added,

“By any chance, is your ‘Snowfield Kim Dokja’ the Kim Dokja who tore his own sibling apart and dreams a new universe? The very Kim Dokja that someone calls 49% Kim Dokja?”

It wasn’t a story I wanted to hear spelled out that clearly.

Maybe my expression amused him, because Cheon Inho sneered.

“Oh. Come to think of it, you were also ‘one’ of the 49% Kim Dokjas.”

“I—”

“However, the Kim Dokja I raised is very different from you.”

“…….”

“You didn’t want to become Kim Dokja, so you were born under a different name, and you could even receive your parents’ love.”

That’s right. I had parents who loved me. It would be a lie to say my life had no misfortune, but I’d never been as unhappy as the ‘Kim Dokjas’ in the story.

“But the Kim Dokja I raised was different. He had no parents, and there wasn’t even food in this vast snowfield.”

I flinched and looked back at him.

“He grew up eating my fable.”

A Kim Dokja who grew up eating Cheon Inho’s fable.

“He realized the truth of this world before any other Kim Dokja, and came to understand the tragedy of this universe.”

“Why on earth….”

“Why… is it. Well. I don’t have an answer for you.”

Cheon Inho looked up at the sky for a moment. The white night sky, exactly like in my memory, was looking down at us.

“All I had to feed him were stories like that.”

“…….”

“This universe made me that way, and I only raised the child the way the universe made me.”

His voice was quiet and even.

Taking a deep breath so I wouldn’t get worked up, I spoke.

“What’s your objective? Are you going to use that bastard to destroy <Star Stream>?”

Instead of answering, Cheon Inho walked on with his hands clasped behind his back. When I listened closely, I heard the tune he was humming. The very same tune from my memory.

“There was a time when I definitely hated everything in this universe.”

“So you don’t now?”

“Well. Even if the me of today changed my mind.”

As he said it, Cheon Inho looked a little tired—almost weary.

“I don’t know what that child, who grew up eating my fable, will do.”

“…….”

“If it’s for the pitiful things that were never read and were thrown away, that child might be able to destroy this entire universe.”

The moment I heard that, things came to mind.

『Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint』 and its characters. And <Kim Dokja Company>.

My chest turned cold.

What if the Kim Dokja Cheon Inho raised inherited his hatred toward them?

“I won’t let that happen.”

“…….”

“I won’t let anyone—anyone—let this story end in tragedy.”

Cheon Inho looked at me.

His expression was like he’d been waiting a long time for me to say that.

“Of course you shouldn’t. That’s how an interesting ‘record’ gets made again.”

“Help me.”

For the first time at my words, Cheon Inho stopped walking.

“Are you asking this body for help?”

“Yes.”

Cheon Inho laughed loudly. It was such an exaggerated laugh that I found myself thinking a person could laugh that loudly.

“Did you already forget who I am? I’m the one who tried to destroy the world. The one who hated ‘Kim Dokja’ more than anyone, and resented this universe.”

“But your objective isn’t to destroy the world.”

“…….”

“You just wanted to be acknowledged, didn’t you?”

“I know. I’m ‘One Who Deceived the Stars’ and ‘Sophist of Evil.’ The master of the Ten Evils and the Tyrant King’s rival—the only person who’s lived as the First Evil, ‘Cheon Inho.’”

Cheon Inho’s mouth fell slightly open.

I snapped as if I were shoving my words straight into that open mouth.

“You just wanted to be written into this story alongside the protagonist. You wanted someone to remember the fact that you, too, definitely existed in this story.”

I wasn’t him, but I understood his grief. While living through the time stratum of the ‘Sophist of ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Evil,’ there were impressions I’d felt clearly.

Even in places that aren’t recorded, there are stories. Even in places no one’s gaze reaches, life definitely exists.

Even knowing that obvious, predictable truth, I lived while forgetting it.

“I’m Kim Dokja who can write.”

That was why I couldn’t help saying it. Even knowing the being in front of me was one of the Ten Evils, even knowing that if I grabbed the wrong hand, my wrist could get blown off.

“I can write your story.”

I thought it was an offer worth making. If I could gain Cheon Inho’s power here, then no matter who I made my enemy from here on out, I wouldn’t be afraid.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Cheon Inho stared at me for a moment, then said,

“Truly a sweet offer. But I can’t accept it. Everything is too late.”

The emotion carried in his “too late” was so thick and heavy that for a moment I didn’t know what I should say.

Late really is late.

And he had endured the years that made him unable to say anything else.

Spreading both arms wide, Cheon Inho continued with a deep smile at the corner of his mouth.

“And the story I wanted—you’ve ‘already’ made it for me. It was a very impressive story.”

“…….”

“I never thought you’d use the Ten Evils like that. Reviving the Tyrant King and the Prophet—and I never imagined you’d possess other Transcendents, either.”

“That story is—”

“I like the ending you wrote very much. So from now on, I’m going to make that ending you created into something ‘real.’”

“What do you—”

“Did you forget? I’m also a ‘Recorder of Terror.’”

In that moment, a belated question flashed through me.

Come to think of it, why was Cheon Inho here? Why wasn’t he with ‘Snowfield Kim Dokja’? Why had he become a ‘Recorder of Terror’ and come here to meet the ‘King of Terror’?

“The ‘time stratum’ managed by the Recorder of Terror becomes fable at the moment it’s resolved and is delivered to the master of the Domain of Terror. And the master of the Domain of Terror is….”

The moment Cheon Inho lifted his head and looked up at the sky, goosebumps rose on me without my even realizing it.

“He promised to grant the ‘Recorder of Terror’ who recorded a great terror the power to change the record of the ‘Final Wall.’”

The sky was opening with beams of light.

Cheon Inho said,

“King of Terror.”

The trembling in my entire body wouldn’t stop.

Right now, beyond that sky, something enormous was about to happen.

“I brought you the story you want here, so now it’s your turn to grant the wish I want.”

Before I could stop him, the light engulfed Cheon Inho.

In the brightly dyed field of view, messages came through.

[The ‘King of Terror’ answers the ‘Sophist of Evil.’]
[The ‘King of Terror’ provides plausibility to the ‘Sophist of Evil.’]

An immense plausibility that could alter a single world.

“Here.”

Cheon Inho, who had finally obtained that plausibility, reached a hand out toward me.

“From now on, let’s write the world ‘again.’”