Chapter 117

Chapter 117

But the Princeps in the mirror didn’t open her mouth to answer my question directly. Instead, she answered it in a different way, rather than using her voice.

“If you want to know who I am.”

The Princeps’s white hand, without a single callus, stirred the air. In the direction her hand moved, golden specks of light scattered finely.

“It would be better for you to see for yourself.”

‘…!’

With those final words, the background surrounding my consciousness began to recede in an instant. Even as I tumbled into the darkness, I kept staring at the silver eyes beyond the mirror.

The silver eyes curved like crescent moons.

“Go well, little one.”

* * *

There was a being that had lived for an exceedingly long time.

At one time, it was a tiny creature without even a proper form, and at another, it was merely an insect with many legs. And at yet another time, it wore the shape of a furry beast, and sometimes it was a weed easily torn apart and eaten by passing animals, then a tree that grew without knowing how high the sky was.

When it became a furry beast, it experienced the life of prey devoured by predators and the life of a predator devouring prey; when it was an insect with many legs, it experienced the life of a host whose entire body was eaten away by parasites, and the life of a parasite burrowing into an insect’s body.

It lived, experienced, and felt countless forms of life.

And so, after an immense amount of time had passed, it took on the womb of a newly emerged species for the first time.

A species with one head, two arms, and two legs, which used its superior intelligence compared to other species to suddenly rise to the top of the food chain—the apex predator: humans.

It lived as a human, in a human body, and died as a human. And then it was born again as a human. It lived as a human once more. It walked, spoke, ate, enjoyed, shared, and was together. But at the same time, it monopolized, divided, betrayed, conflicted, and opposed.

Countless forms of life passed through it. In the midst of that endlessly unbroken chain of lives, someone spoke to it.

—You are one who reincarnates.

It stopped walking and stared at the monk who had addressed it.

—You are an insect crawling on the earth, and a fly soaring through the air.

You are also a dog panting at its master, and a cat aloof toward its master.

But at the same time, you are a child and an old man, a man and a woman.

You are a king and a slave, an exploiter and the exploited, a perpetrator and a victim. Therefore.

The monk, who had turned his back to meet its gaze, took off the bamboo hat he wore on his head. The sun shone through. The monk’s bald head and his black eyes were as calm as a rippleless pond.

—You are a being who is both yourself and me.

Indeed, those words were correct.

Having experienced every form of life that existed in the world over a long period of time, for it, every life in the world was just another version of itself. Therefore, for it, the world was itself, and itself was the world.

It knew the world, and it understood the world. And so it declared.

“I am the world, and the world is me, so for me, all finite life that exists in this world is an object to love, cherish, and cultivate. Therefore, for me, the world is like a garden that must be tended.”

‘Love,’ ‘cherish,’ and ‘cultivate.’

Since such things were originally like what those above bestow upon those below, it defined its own role and, at the same time, defined itself with another name.

“Therefore, from this moment on, I define myself as the master who owns the garden named the world, the ‘Garden Ruler.’”

The being later called the Administrator and Ruler of the world, ‘Princeps,’ was born through this process.

“Yes, so.”

Beyond the memory, weariness spread across a face that still had something that could be called an expression. The ‘Princeps,’ who had transformed from a newly born Administrator into one who had long performed the role, turned her head and stared at me.

“I wonder if your attempt to understand ‘me,’ and no one else, has succeeded.”

The expressionless face of the Princeps, which had suddenly burst out of the cinematic memory flowing like a panorama, scattered and disappeared like a mirage before long. And as if to take its place, what filled the spot where she had been was the memory that followed.

The Princeps acted in accordance with the identity she had defined for herself: the ‘Ruler of the Garden.’ To construct a ‘garden for those with finite lives,’ as she had decided, she began to cast out those who were ‘not finite.’

“Everything I have ever become through reincarnation or loved has been things with finite lives.”

Amid the stream of memories, the Princeps’s flat voice cut in. Having materialized beside me without form, she pointed at the Princeps in the memory, who was expelling those once called ‘gods.’

“That means that those who are not me yet also myself were limited to beings with finite lives. So I drove out those who were ‘not me,’ who were not my possessions, from my garden.”

As she said, the Princeps in the memory was banishing ancient beings called gods, spirits, fairies, and the like from the world. As she cast them out, she repeated her own words over and over.

‘The ‘me’ I distinguish is only those with finite lives who existed within my reincarnations.’

‘But you, who possess infinite lives and dominate, bind, and manipulate the finite ones as you please, do not exist within my reincarnations.’

‘As the Administrator of this world, I hold the right to decide its fate. From now on, this world will be structured solely for the finite.’

Naturally, the non-finite beings resisted her. The god of lightning struck her with bolts, the god of war manipulated humans to harm her, and the god of death tried to drag her down into the realm of the dead beneath the earth.

But none of those attempts worked against an Administrator who had truly solidified her own identity. The Princeps used the power of dominion she possessed to nullify all their efforts, then cast them far away to the edge of the world.

At the edge of the world, where there was no sky, no sea, no air, and no beings to worship or revere them, they gradually lost their power and began to break away from the world.

“But sudden changes always come with side effects.”

Amid the ancient beings shattering and falling away, two children were left isolated. They had originally been born as humans, finite lifeforms capable of intellectual thought. But during the war between the gods and the Princeps, they were kidnapped by the gods and forcibly implanted with fragments of the old beings.

A boy, who had a fragment of the old forest god and a race that lived in the woods implanted into his heart, and a girl, who bore the imprint of the god of letters and knowledge, who wished to receive information about the world even after being exiled from it.

The Princeps could not bring herself to abandon or cast out the two children she found in a ruined temple, left behind after the gods were all driven away. They were like symbols of the finite lives she had failed to protect. So she brought them to her dwelling and gave each a name.

“To the boy who asked for a place to live and a role, I gave the name ‘Gardner,’ meaning I wanted him to help me as a gardener. To the girl who longed for her distant northern homeland, I gave the name ‘North.’”

In the memory, the two children taken in by the Princeps lifted their heads and stared this way.

Their faces, when I met their eyes, were unbearably familiar and dear.

A boy with long, flowing black hair, silver-gray eyes, and elongated ears that brought to mind the elf race often seen in fantasy novels.

A girl with messy brown hair sticking out in all directions, maroon eyes, and glasses from poor eyesight.

The two children were, without a doubt, the two people I knew. I recalled the names they used ‘now.’

‘Avan Dungardner, and Nostalgier.’

Time in the memory continued to flow. After that, the Princeps focused on driving out the ‘non-finite’ beings hiding in various corners of the world, or raising the two children she had taken in. Sometimes, beings from worlds other than her own would seek her out.

Eden, the Administrator of World 4-25, who had taken the word ‘Paradise’ as his name, was an old Administrator from another world who had been watching the Princeps ever since she was a ‘Master Key’ that had not yet awakened.

He was a man of great affection, kindness, and in a certain sense, a fragile heart. The Princeps always thought him truly unsuited to be an Administrator. An Administrator must inevitably observe the lives of countless beings. There is no room for good and evil, admiration, or sympathy in that. Because an Administrator’s job is not to reward the good and punish the wicked.

But Eden was not like that.

And that was precisely why, in the end, Eden ruined his own world with his own hands.

“A pitiful man.”

The Princeps, standing beside me, spoke in a voice full of pity.

“He was a seed that should never have become an Administrator. Too good, too loving, and too… righteous.”

Unfortunately, life is neither good nor righteous. Life is simply life. But Eden could not accept that. He wanted a world where the good were rewarded and the wicked were punished. He intervened in his own world. The wicked shall be punished. The good shall be rewarded. He kept trying to ‘control’ his world.