Snow Castle's inhabitants often speculated that some Foreign Entities were more intelligent than humans. In my Super Coward Mode, I could recognize that these beings were, in fact, more informed than humans, despite the popular assumption of them as otherworldly forces.

"Everyone, listen to me for a second!!"

My attention turned to the glass-bead Entity who had jumped up in frustration. It was clear she had been making a point but was too upset to stay seated.

I watched in slight amazement. I hadn’t expected Foreign Entities to hold meetings that resembled human ones. I didn’t doubt their intelligence; it was more that I imagined them as reclusive figures, usually preferring to be alone in their domains with their shards or minor Entities for company. While some were more social—like Bell—this seemed like a rare trait, and typically only among higher-ranking Entities.

But it seemed the nature of their “meetings” differed from what I’d assumed.

“So, one of the ‘high-ups’ tells me, ‘Don’t worry, the human isn’t dangerous, you’re safe to wander around in the cave.’ And then, as soon as I met the human, he pulls out a gun and starts shooting at me! I couldn’t do anything for nearly three days, just stuck to the wall! Can you believe that?!”

“Oh, that sounds rough.”

“Poor thing.”

…This was nothing like the meetings I’d envisioned. It was more of a support group where everyone took turns saying, “I’ve had a hard time!” and receiving sympathetic nods in response.

Listening to her, I thought—could she be the Entity Agarta and Hunter had subdued? From the teary look on her face, it seemed she’d been through a lot.

“That's just because you're weak,” came a teasing voice.

“Excuse me?!” the glass Entity spat back, her anger flaring as she glared at the speaker.

It was Nutrièce.

“If you were a lot stronger than humans, you wouldn’t be crying about it,” Nutrièce teased with a mischievous smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the truth, right?”

The glass Entity, now pointing an accusatory finger, seemed ready to explode. “This is because I didn’t play with you recently, isn’t it?!”

“Chair, she’s bringing up unrelated points now,” Nutrièce interjected, raising her hand to protest.

“Please calm down. This isn’t a place for fighting,” said Gardener in her soothing tone, trying to pacify the glass Entity, who now looked ready to burst with indignation.

Ah, that explained Nutrièce’s provocation. This glass Entity was likely one of the strongest of the minor Entities, similar to Nutrièce.

This “meeting” had an interesting dynamic. While some Entities were here to vent and share grievances, others actually shared information.

“Apparently, there’s been a large influx of humans in the snowfield near the princess’s territory.”

“Hm, maybe they’re moving in to settle?”

“Not sure. That’s all we’ve got.”

It was unexpectedly fascinating to witness Entities gathering and talking so casually. They took turns sharing, and after the Entity beside me finished her bit and sat down, I expected the next to begin. But instead, I found all eyes on me, bright with curiosity.

Oh no.

It looked like they wanted the human at the table to contribute.

Nearly every Entity here seemed friendly toward humans, and I tried to politely decline, but Gardener gave me a compellingly sweet smile, nudging me to participate. With a reluctant cough, I stood.

“Uh, I don’t think I have any information that would benefit everyone here. But I do have something I’d like to ask.”

The Entities smiled and nodded in encouragement.

“Have any of you heard of a figure called the Observer, often revered in the human world?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, every Entity’s face turned to stone.

The Observer. A figure unknown to humanity at large, yet someone the Record Keeper seemed determined to keep hidden.

While the Record Keeper dismissed it as unimportant, my grandfather’s prophecy about the Observer had turned out to be startlingly accurate, making it impossible to ignore.

The Record Keeper had told me I’d understand in time, but wouldn’t it be wise to know something now, to prepare myself?

I’d simply tossed out the topic to see where it might lead, but the reaction was… extreme.

“What do you mean, still alive?!”

“No, no, I heard they were dead!”

The Entities were growing frantic, as if struggling to deny reality.

Dead?

Was that why humans had forgotten them? Was my grandfather the last one to remember?

But then why would the scholar-seers have no record of it? They knew even the fact that Gardener was a major Entity.

Even Gardener, looking shocked, was staring at me.

“So, how do you humans know about this… Observer?” she asked.

“There’s someone on our side who reveres the Observer as part of his faith.”

“…Did you all hear that?” an Entity murmured.

“They’re worshiping the Observer now?”

Did the Observer have a poor reputation among Entities? The chill in the air felt ominous.

“There’s no one here who actually likes the Observer,” came the unexpectedly grim voice of the glass Entity.

“Why?” I asked.

“If the Observer were around, we’d have no freedom. We couldn’t even gather here like this to chat.”

Wait. Was this Observer so powerful that they could limit every Entity’s freedom?

According to scholars, only conceptual major Entities wielded that level of influence. But something didn’t add up. If a conceptual Entity died, the world couldn’t continue as it had been.

Major Entities embodied essential concepts. Gardener symbolized plants, the Chef symbolized cooking, the Watcher symbolized observation, and the Record Keeper symbolized documentation.

And conceptual Entities were even more fundamental, representing ideas that couldn’t disappear without disrupting the world. Yet here we were, the world seemingly intact, even with the Observer gone.

As I prepared to ask more, Gardener clapped her hands and held up a palm, signaling me to stop.

“Enough.”

“…?”

“Any more, and you’ll just hurt yourself. Let it go.”

The gravity of Gardener’s words left me speechless.

What was going on? Why was there a collective effort to remain silent about the Observer, both from Gardener and the Record Keeper?

…It likely meant I wouldn’t get further with other Entities, either. I’d have to find my grandfather and ask him directly. If it was related to me, I couldn’t afford ignorance. Even if the truth was painful, it was the only way forward.

“Alright, let’s move on to the next topic,” Gardener said, trying to redirect the discussion.

“Actually, I have a suggestion!” another minor Entity raised its hand.

“Go ahead,” Gardener replied.

“I think we’d all like to hear about the Chair’s worries!”

“W-Who, me?” Gardener stammered, pointing at herself in surprise.

“Oh, that’s right!” said another Entity. “You’ve never shared anything personal; you always just listen to our stories!”

“Your stories are fun enough for me!”

As the minor Entities pressed Gardener, she waved her hands, trying to deflect. But there was one Entity who would never let an opportunity like this go to waste.

“You know, that’s true. It’s like you’ve been deliberately keeping your life under wraps while quietly laughing at us inside,” Nutrièce remarked, clearly enjoying herself.

“Hear, hear!” another minor Entity agreed.

Seeing Nutrièce argue so confidently, even after souring her standing with Gardener, was surprising. But apparently, Nutrièce wasn’t troubled by conscience, and Gardener seemed to hesitate, as if actually considering it.

“Hmm, maybe,” she mused.

“Yes, tell us!” came the cheers of the other Entities.

With everyone’s encouragement, I also grew curious about what Gardener might say.

But the moment she opened her mouth, while the other Entities looked delighted, my face could only fall.

“So, there’s this story about a female human’s lover who cheated on her…”

…I had a sinking feeling that whatever she was about to say would definitely involve me!