Chapter 2: The Most Despairing Curse
The once silent and oppressive air in the room had unknowingly thinned a little.
Shiltina’s hand, reaching toward her waist, paused midair.
She stared at Rast in front of her, feeling that his current occupation and his earlier words didn’t quite match in tone.
“It’s actually not that strange.”
Rast’s expression remained unchanged. “Since there are bars that serve men, it’s only natural there are also places that serve women.”
“A few hours ago, I met with the owner of this establishment, and then I became the top host here.”
“Of course, the kind that sells performance, not the body.”
Shiltina thought for a moment. “So all those things you said earlier were stories you made up to please your customer?”
“Entertaining others with a smile is indeed my current job, but everything I said was true.”
“Then why are you working here as a gigolo... a host?”
Shiltina’s upbringing ultimately prevented her from saying that word outright.
“If I have to give a reason, I suppose it’s just to entertain myself.”
Rast stood up and skillfully retrieved four differently colored bottles of liquor and two wine glasses from a cabinet in the corner of the room.
In the next moment, the bottles of varying hues danced between his fingers as if they had been given life.
“I’m someone without a tomorrow. This endlessly repeating Deep Blue Port has long since lost any sense of reality for me…”
“So whether it’s being a sculptor or a host, to me, there’s no difference.”
“As long as it pleases me, gives me a sense of novelty, and keeps me from going insane in these tens of thousands of cycles, then even being a beggar or a prisoner would be fine.”
Rast’s fingers stopped.
Clink—
A crisp sound echoed across the tabletop.
Inside the silver wine glass, the liquid was a clear, vivid red, as if flames danced within.
“『Infernal Flowing Sand』.”
“I won’t mention the price. I’m guessing you didn’t bring any of the currency used here.”
Rast placed the two wine glasses on the table and wiped his hands with a white handkerchief.
“Normally I would respect my profession. After all, if you break the rules of roleplaying, it loses its charm.”
“But today is an exception.”
Shiltina didn’t reach for the silver wine glass, only watched Rast’s performance in silence.
Even though her instincts wanted to deny Rast’s words, the abnormalities he displayed clearly surpassed what could be explained by coincidence.
What’s more, the situation he described did indeed match her own. For instance, Shiltina truly hadn’t brought even a single coin of Deep Blue Port’s currency.
And within the logic he presented, she couldn’t find a flaw.
“But—”
Shiltina raised her head.
“Even if everything you said is true, why would you share your greatest secret—this infinite loop—without reason?”
“Even if everyone else in this world forgets their conversations with you because of some so-called reset, you said it yourself: I’m special, someone who never appeared in your previous loops.”
“That is indeed my greatest secret—”
“But I stopped caring a long time ago.”
Seeing that Shiltina didn’t want to drink, Rast didn’t mind. He simply took the glass meant for himself.
“I once thought that time endlessly starting over was a blessing from the heavens. That becoming a hero praised by thousands, showered with flowers, applause, and glory… or becoming a villain who trampled on laws and committed unspeakable crimes, was just a matter of my choice.”
“But in truth, it wasn’t a blessing, but the most despairing curse.”
Rast gazed at the wine in the goblet, red as blood.
“No matter what kind of mark you leave in this world, once dusk falls, everything is erased.”
“A half-finished, carefully sculpted jade will revert to an uncarved stone the next day.”
“Friends you feel you’ve met too late, lovers clinging closely together—will become strangers again the next day.”
“No matter how many times you train your body, you’re still just an ordinary person with no strength to fight back.”
“Even if I wanted to be an Opera House makeup artist for a while, I’d still have to go to the troupe for an interview every single loop, and listen to the manager say lines I’ve long since memorized.”
“Birth, growth, aging, death… experiencing joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, the bittersweet partings and reunions—this is the unique beauty of being human, yet it has nothing to do with me.”
“I am merely a passerby in this world. Though I may appear omnipotent, in truth, I possess nothing. Aside from memory, I can’t retain a single thing.”
Rast downed the glass of 『Infernal Flowing Sand』 in one gulp. “So—”
“In order to kill this incurable, endless loop…”
“The price I’m willing to pay far exceeds what you could ever imagine… regardless of what may stand in my way on this path.”
“Worldly laws, moral codes…”
“Or even… some self-proclaimed godlike existence.”
Rast’s voice was calm.
But as she listened to that serene tone, Shiltina found her body unconsciously tensing.
The realization made her pause for a moment.
Clearly, she and the inhabitants of this world existed on different planes, yet she was made nervous by a few ambiguous words from this native.
Just then, Shiltina heard a soft click.
At some unknown point, Rast’s left hand held a silver revolver.
The gun’s entire frame was pure silver, reflecting a sharp, metallic gleam—like a moon forged from iron.
At the same time, Shiltina suddenly turned her gaze toward a particular direction.
Not toward Rast, who had suddenly drawn a gun, but rather toward a shadowed corner beside the window.
“Well, I suppose I should expect no less from someone trained by the royal family… your perception isn’t bad.”
A raspy female voice rang out in the spacious, quiet room.
A voluptuous woman stood there, wearing a mask made of black iron, half her body hidden in the shadows.
“Still, I didn’t expect your first act after entering the Nightworld would be to come to a place like this in search of a man.”
“Of course, if it’s to vent your desires, the Nightworld is a good choice.”
“Safe, private, and leaves no trace behind…”
The masked woman glanced around, letting out a sultry laugh.
Compared to the still-naive Shiltina, her worldly experience was far greater, and with just a glance, she could tell the role Rast was playing here.
Her gaze lingered on Rast’s face for a moment, a flicker of surprise passing through her eyes. “To think the Nightworld would produce such a native projection. No wonder the young lady of Starfall University tossed aside her noble restraint.”
“Well then, I suppose this counts as a bonus outside the mission.”
But in the next moment, her eyes landed on the silver revolver in Rast’s hand.
The previously playful tone in her voice turned slightly colder. “I don’t like toys with thorns.”
“A shame, really… but if I hand you over to those corpse-playing alchemists for refining, I’m sure they’ll find other uses for you.”
“Throw away the gun—now!”
Shiltina seemed to have sensed something as well and spoke urgently.
But her warning came too late.
From within the eye sockets of the woman’s black iron mask—previously shrouded in shadow—a rose-pink glow flared to life.
Radiant light danced in her pupils, shaping into a hazy and seductive human-shaped illusion.
It began to rotate, to sway, to expand.
Until that enchanting rose-colored radiance, along with the graceful, mesmerizing dance, reflected completely within Rast’s eyes.
“Offer me your life.”
The voice came from afar, soft and melodious, yet brimming with an irresistible, commanding charm.
And as if bewitched by that order…
Rast bowed his head, like a marionette on strings, slowly and stiffly raising the silver gun in his left hand.
Then, ever so slowly, he pointed the muzzle at his own temple.