"···Is this really the time for that? You should be resting."

"Oh, Amelia. Hello."

"Yeah, hello. Glad to see you're okay."

As I held Siwoo tightly, I heard Amelia sigh exasperatedly from behind. Rest, she said.

I am resting.

"I'm resting exactly like this."

"They say old habits die hard…"

Honestly, I felt a bit embarrassed. But I decided to be shameless. I knew how Siwoo felt about me, and I knew how I felt about Siwoo. So, shouldn’t I be doing my best to keep him close?

Just as I was justifying my feelings to myself and hugging Siwoo, he suddenly pushed me aside and moved urgently toward someone else.

…What?

Did he just leave me?

A wave of jealousy surged, but as I realized why Siwoo had rushed to the white-coated doctor, my heart warmed.

"How is Arte? Are there any side effects?"

"···She's fine, as you can see. She should avoid strenuous activities for a while, though."

"I see. Thank you."

He was concerned about me.

Even though his ability probably assured him I was okay, he needed the confirmation.

It felt good to be cared for.

"By the way, what did you put in her? It feels like my mind is breaking. Seriously, it’s replacing her heart."

"Well, it’s a very dangerous artifact. I’ll explain everything later."

"Fine. For now, she needs to rest and recuperate..."

"···Ah, this noise is annoying."

"What?"

In the middle of their conversation, Siwoo suddenly got irritated. Always kind, Siwoo was now snapping at someone, not an enemy but someone he had been talking to amicably moments ago.

Was there a problem? Maybe he got hurt badly somewhere?

People's personalities can change after a head injury.

As I anxiously pondered, Siwoo suddenly drew his sword.

"Hey, Yusiwoo?! What are you doing?!"

"···Oh, no?"

I was the only one who could stop Siwoo. The others were unarmed, and I could subdue him instantly with my threads. But I couldn’t even think of using my ability on him, just staring anxiously.

Siwoo wouldn’t do this without reason.

I believed in him.

My grip tightened, and Siwoo glanced at me.

"Sorry, Arte."

Then he plunged the sword into his own stomach.

"What's wrong with you?!"

"···Ouch, this really hurts. My head’s spinning."

"Emergency! Emergency! Nurse! Nurse!"

The scene felt like it was underwater, the noise muffled. What just happened? What was Siwoo doing?

Siwoo got hurt. Why?

He hurt himself.

"Why, why…!"

What to do, what to do, what to do.

Siwoo told me not to worry, so I believed in him.

I only believed in Siwoo.

The doctor frantically rang the emergency bell and rushed to Siwoo to administer first aid. But Siwoo pushed him away and put his hand inside his own stomach.

"Hey…! Are you insane…?"

[Waaaaaah! Waaaaaah!]

"···What's that?"

"Oh, this?"

The object Siwoo pulled from his stomach shocked me so much I forgot he had just injured himself.

That thing. The voice from it was all too familiar.

I couldn’t not recognize it. I heard it every day.

"···Writer?"

[Waaaaah! This is so unfair!]

"I was planning to take it out, but it was too noisy. The doctor is here, so it’s the perfect timing. Sorry for worrying you."

Despite the pain, Siwoo looked at me proudly. Though I couldn’t fully understand, I guessed he was impressed I’d endured the writer's presence.

…Siwoo was more amazing.

The doctor and others started to treat Siwoo’s wound, staring at him like they’d seen a ghost.

"Hey, does that not hurt?"

"Of course it hurts."

"Then why are you so calm?"

"Because it’s over now."

"···Over?"

"Yeah, over."

Amelia asked, but Siwoo wasn’t talking to her. He was smiling at me.

"Arte. Don’t worry anymore. There’s no writer to torment you."

"···What? What do you mean?"

"The writer was in your heart."

"···?"

"And I ate it and showed them everything. Now the writer can’t do anything."

My heart… eaten?

Huh?

I couldn’t understand what Siwoo was saying. But the object in Siwoo’s hand—the thing he pulled from his stomach—was emitting the writer's voice.

The writer was wailing.

Siwoo’s words were true.

[Waaaaah! We could have made a deal!]

"There was no way I’d deal with you. The moment you got inside, I’d already won."

[So unfair…!]

Mesmerized, I took the object from Siwoo. It was covered in his blood, but I didn’t care.

"So, you cut out my heart…?"

"Yeah. To separate you from the writer."

"···Is it true the writer can’t do anything now? How?"

"It’s complicated, but yeah. The writer’s powerless now. They’ll probably vanish soon."

[Waaaaah!]

The writer’s voice grew fainter. Siwoo’s words must be true, considering how sorrowful the wailing was.

"···Writer?"

[Sniff, sniff…]

Though the writer didn’t answer, I could tell they were listening. They always had.

…What was I going to do?

I often wondered what I would do if the writer disappeared.

Would I go mad?

The writer was a ridiculous and pathetic existence. They dragged me into this world without warning.

If I were the me who had just arrived, I might have thrown this heart on the ground.

But I didn’t.

I had become accustomed to living here…

And I had someone I loved.

"···Writer?"

[Sniff, sniff… yes?]

They were scared I might lash out. The writer was watching me cautiously.

Yeah, I see.

You enjoyed it.

"How about this, then? What if you create your own world?"

[My own… world?]

"Yes. You have friends, don’t you?"

From what they’d told me, I could infer the writer wasn’t alone.

The writer responded quietly.

"You could make a world where you can interfere all you want."

[···My own world?]

"It wouldn't be just yours. You’d create it with others."

Like in Greek mythology, with many gods.

"And you’d compete against each other. Not in direct fights, but by raising champions."

[Champions…]

"Yes. Saints, heroes, champions. Call them what you like."

The writer treated this world as a story. So, why not make a game-like world?

"Without tragedies, it can always be fun."

If transcendent beings saw the world as entertainment, why not make it a literal game?

"Do you like the idea?"

[···Yes!]

"Promise me you’ll make a world without tragedies."

[Of course!]

Time was running out. The writer’s voice grew fainter, and the heart began to crumble.

[Bringing you here was the best choice ever! Thank you, reader.]

"···."

After the heart crumbled, the writer’s noisy voice was gone.

They were really gone.

"···How do you feel?"

"I don’t know."

Is this what they call bittersweet?

The writer was really gone. It felt lonely.

"···Thank you."

"Don’t mention it."

Siwoo and I smiled at each other.