[System]: Time Setting (0.5x Speed)
Thanks to the Golden Hour Hand plugged into the clock, time trickled by slowly. Only the time surrounding Kessler and me flowed sluggishly, making this vacation feel unusually long.
“This place seriously doesn’t feel like a prison.”
He spoke while reading this week’s meal plan.
For brunch-dinner combos, the guards of skeletons reliably served up two full portions per person, and to top it off, the menu changed daily. On the communal floors, various activity programs were available for inmates who might feel the monotony of incarceration.
In the tower’s central level, a Shadow Social Club was hosted every night, and around the spiral perimeter of the tower were fun attractions like the “Spiral Tower Sled Ride” and even a bungee jumping platform.
After lazing around in the room for quite a while, we decided to challenge the bungee jump together. That’s when an unexpected conflict sparked between us. The bungee jump was strictly for one person, but Kessler insisted on jumping together no matter what.
“We have to jump together. It’s scary alone.”
“That’s exactly why you’re supposed to jump alone. The weight limit is for one person. What if the cord snaps from our combined weight and we both end up dead?”
“Then we die a hundred-year skeleton couple.”
“You’re insane. I’m not dying with you.”
Kessler, clinging to the idea of dying together, and me, desperate to live no matter what.
Since safety gear was fundamentally categorized as cloaks, it couldn’t be equipped over the Nine Tails, which would otherwise serve as a parachute in case of mishap. If things went wrong, it meant certain death.
Kessler stared at me and asked cautiously.
“You’re really going to jump separately?”
That look… That look weakened my resolve. Honestly, it wasn’t like there was no solution. There was a way we could match the weight limit.
“Fine, I’ll transform into a fox. Let’s jump together. Do they have safety gear for foxes here?”
“They do.”
I was the one who asked, but… it was still weird. Why the hell do they even have that, and how the hell did Kessler know?
“Alright then, let’s go with that.”
“Not a bad plan.”
At last, we found a reasonable compromise. I tucked myself into the baby fox-sized harness located right in front of Kessler’s chest. There was a separate hole for the tail, so the fit was surprisingly comfortable.
Together, we held onto the rope securely fastened by SafetyGol and stepped onto the railing of the towering ledge.
Looking down, the drop was dizzyingly vast, a void so deep it felt like the bottom had vanished. I couldn’t wait to leap off and feel the rush of air.
“…Hold on a sec.”
What now? Suddenly, Kessler began to hesitate. He didn’t seem scared, but was he chickening out at the last second?
Nyang nyang!
I barked to encourage him. Then, in the next moment, Kessler shouted loudly:
“Even if you turn into a bald fox with all your fur gone, I’ll still find you beautiful. Let’s stay together forever!”
NYANG!!
It was a voice filled with resolve. He must’ve been thinking hard about what to promise before the jump.
‘…Wait. Don’t tell me this whole stunt was just so he could say that?’
In the next instant, Kessler wrapped one arm over the harness above me and jumped.
“I LOVE YOU!!”
His vow echoed off the walls of the Shadow Tower, carried by the rush of wind slicing through the cool, sandy air.
***
The peaceful and pleasant prison vacation continued. Kessler and I were hanging out at the board game lounge. There must’ve been a lot of long-term inmates here because the place was full of seasoned veterans, but I still came out on top in every single game.
It was a total Yeo Woo-rim domination.
“How are you this good?”
Nyang.
Simple. In games like this one—basically Go or chess variants—you get five moves to place your pieces. Just calculate a few branches of possibilities within those five moves, and it’s done.
“Seriously? The baby fox won again?”
Nyang.
Next, a number subtraction game. This one also looked like a battle of nerves at first glance, but simple memorization could overturn it easily.
Out of 80 number cards total, I just had to pay attention to the missing ones from my side and my opponent’s side. With that, it was easy to deduce their hand.
“You’re a freaking genius, aren’t you?”
Nyang nyang.
Last game: moving the ballpins. This one was also just about calculating both my and the opponent’s moves every turn.
Across all three types of games, I maintained my status as a pro gamer and earned the baby crown awarded by the Skeleton for top performers.
After a round of intense activities, we returned to Kessler’s cell, and I handed him the golden crown I’d received.
“You’re really giving this to me?”
Nyang.
It was way too small to fit on his head, so I fastened the crown around his wrist instead. Kessler gently stroked it, then took my front paws in his hands and kissed them with soft smack smack sounds.
“Can’t you turn human for me?”
Nyang?
“It’s perfect weather for mating today.”
Before I could even wriggle away, he began pulling down his pants as he spoke—erasing the option of staying a fox. I found myself questioning why I always gave in to this guy, but in the end, I bit down on the Jewel Ice again.
“What do you mean ‘perfect weather for mating’?”
“Even if it rains, even if there’s dust in the air.”
As I climbed onto Kessler’s fully naked body, he grabbed my waist and flipped me underneath him, trapping me there.
“I love this. I’m so happy.”
Then he pressed his cheek to mine and nuzzled it softly.
Seriously… who’s the real fox here?
***
It’s a universal truth that weekends pass faster than weekdays. The time spent with Kessler was no different. Without worrying about quests, I just gamed, had sex, and fooled around with him—and the days vanished in an instant.
I think I finally felt the same happiness Kessler always spoke of so easily.
On the last day of our vacation, I could feel that happiness lingering on my skin. Even so, I quietly packed my things, trying to suppress the bittersweet ache.
“I’ll fast-forward time for you.”
“Okay. I’ll be waiting for you in the future.”
“Be careful on your way.”
We parted with the kind of clean, simple farewell you’d see in a comic. I’d played to my heart’s content. It was time to return to reality.
As I left the Shadow Atonement Prison, I waved to the fellow inmates—those who’d played games and enjoyed sledding down the tower with me.
Walking toward the train platform, I turned back one last time. More precisely, I looked up toward the towering height of the prison tower.
Even from that distance, Kessler was still watching over me. When I grinned wide and waved both hands energetically, he mirrored me, waving his arms with just as much enthusiasm.
The path of shadows is said to be the longest in the world—one that stretched endlessly ahead.
I followed that path and reached the platform situated halfway through it.
Finally, a moment of silence—no chatter, no conversations. Just me, alone. Sitting by myself waiting for the train, a breeze stirred up the sand.
It stung my eyes. That’s why I cried. I wiped my eyes with my palm. And wiped again. And again, as the tears kept falling.
It was just the sand irritating my eyes. Not because I was feeling anything personal about the one I’d left behind in the game. Not out of longing, or regret.
***
Clack, clack.
The skeleton gently tapped me awake. I had been staring blankly out the window, lost in thought, and hadn’t noticed we’d arrived.
“Oh, we’re here already. Thank you.”
Click-clack, click-clack.
As soon as I stepped off the train at the Shadow Castle platform, it pulled away again. The voices of users echoing over the high castle walls jolted me back into full awareness.
[!!! You have been automatically assigned as a player to an ongoing quest.]
As I climbed the stairs, I pulled up the current quest status in the Shadow Castle.
It was an event quest: <Devour the Vacancy 2>
Voting results will be announced shortly.
“What the hell is this?”
Frowning, I pulled my hand from my pocket and flipped through the notifications.
“Did Jung Da-hoon pull something?” Maybe he was trying to stall for time. If not that… my pace quickened.
Jung Da-hoon was the only user among us with noble status, and he had the authority to nullify the quest that had been triggered due to Kessler’s absence.
Nobles were granted the right to act as “Temporary Decision-Makers” on behalf of the users.
Therefore, there were three possible reasons <Devour the Vacancy 2> had been triggered:
1) Jung Da-hoon had voluntarily yielded his authority.
2) Jung Da-hoon had died.
3) Jung Da-hoon had deliberately triggered the quest to buy time, intending to snatch the decision-maker role at the last second like a game.
My footsteps grew faster. I always consider the worst-case scenario first, so a chilling worry crept in—what if Jung Da-hoon had died?
I rushed straight into the chapel, scanning the area for him.
“…Ha, thank god.”
Jung Da-hoon and Bori Noona were sitting in their usual spots. I headed straight over and joined them.
“Oh? Yeo Woo-rim! Why does it feel like it’s been ages?”
“Right? Maybe our active times didn’t overlap.”
“Hasn’t it been almost three days?”
“So it’s only been three real-world days. That must be it.”
“…Player. I missed you.”
“I missed you too. You’ve been well, I hope?”
“Yes.”
– Ahem. Can everyone hear me clearly?
– We will now announce the results of ‘Devour the Vacancy’.
[Event Quest: <Devour the Vacancy 2>
Player PeeledGarlicUnpeeledGarlic has been elected as the Temporary Decision-Maker.]
“Bravo!”
“Knew Garlic would do it!”
Applause echoed throughout the chapel. The newly appointed expedition leader received a flower necklace around their neck, while the other candidates graciously stepped down and accepted defeat.
– Thank you. I’m honored to have received this position, thanks to the Skeletons’ votes. I’ll work hard for the users. May I do a special thanks?
“Yes!!”
“Gigiring~”
– I’d like to express gratitude to the noble player Jung Da-hoon for leaving this seat open. I’ll make choices for the benefit of the users.
As the new expedition leader gave their acceptance speech, I turned to Jung Da-hoon and asked,
“Why didn’t you use your noble privilege? I’m not criticizing—just genuinely curious.”
“Well, I’m the main operator of the fox account, right? I wanted to maintain public favor and avoid a ‘boycott the fox’ situation. I figured Garlic’s choices wouldn’t deviate much from what I would’ve done anyway.”
“I see. Good call.”
That position of Temporary Decision-Maker was a perfect target for backlash no matter what choices were made. Whatever quest they picked, someone was bound to suffer for it, and that would naturally breed resentment.
“And honestly… I still have trauma from last time.”
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that. Right—Jung Da-hoon had really gone through hell.
