The statue, draped in a robe long enough to drag along the floor, had no head attached.
A clean cross-section at the neck and a smooth, white skin texture. Plaster.
Each time the statue swung its arms as it walked, the mouse-gray robe rippled.
'Is it costume work? If the head's hidden inside the robe, the body's proportions are far too perfect. There's nowhere for a head to fit. And....'
Maybe it was because I was seeing in person a form I'd only known from books. Even in this situation, I couldn't take my eyes off it.
Looking at the delicate rendering of the neckline, I found myself wondering how the arms hidden inside the robe had been sculpted.
[I will now summon the other visitors again for the orientation.]
Fwish-
Following the statue's words, that familiar signal sound rang out again.
And the visitors who had vanished before my eyes appeared all at once.
"Wh-what?!! What is this!"
Everyone seemed to be in a similar situation to mine — they saw one another and cried out in surprise.
People's faces turned as white as plaster.
Some even pointed fingers openly at the statue.
"What is that.... Where is that voice coming from?"
"It's makeup or something, isn't it?"
[Who knows.]
The statue gave a sly shrug.
Perhaps because of its exaggerated gestures, its emotions were easy to read even without a face.
[Did you not trust this system enough to speak aloud even the wishes you had buried deep inside?]
[And now, suddenly, doubt?]
"......."
"......."
Everyone must have made a true wish, just like me — the exhibition hall fell silent in an instant.
The statue shrugged once more, then pointed a finger at itself.
[Would you care to guess my name? The visitor who guesses correctly will receive a prize.]
"What? A prize, all of a sudden? What kind of bullsh—...."
Amid the people spitting curses, I sank into thought.
'I don't know if that's a costume or not, but considering what happened inside my head earlier.... This isn't something to laugh off.'
Anyone could see that statue was an entity connected to this museum.
A prize given by the administrator of a wish-granting museum. I racked my brain, fast.
Proceedings thoroughly faithful to the museum concept.
A headless statue made of plaster.
'No doubt about it. The problem has to be solved by reading it through art.'
If the name is intuitive, the answer is simple.
While the others were still tilting their heads, I hastily struck first.
"Torso."
Every visitor's gaze converged on me.
[...Your reasoning?]
"Torso is Italian for the trunk of the body."
[.......]
"It began with works modeled after body-only statues excavated from ancient ruins. Greek and Roman ruins."
I dredged up buried memories, stammering onward.
Maybe because my thoughts weren't properly organized, even the order of my words was a mess.
But the name and the definition of torso — that much was certain.
"You're wearing clothes, but the plaster material can't be hidden. On top of that, expressiveness that looks truly human. The arms, too, must have been sculpted with precise proportions and musculature to dramatically capture the beauty of the human body. Ah — the meaning of torso is the trunk, but since you have arms, you could be considered a variant form—"
Reciting on about the beauty of the torso, I abruptly shut my mouth. I'd read the looks the surrounding visitors were giving me far too late.
As I talked, the memories kept surfacing, and I'd explained far too much.
'Damn. Those are the eyes of people who are thoroughly put off.'
In such a chaotic situation, here I was delivering an artwork lecture — of course they'd look at me strangely.
Embarrassed, I hurried to wrap up.
"In any case, you are a torso."
At my deduction, only silence circled the exhibition hall.
Everyone was waiting solely for the statue's answer.
The statue's body, facing me, didn't so much as stir.
Then, slowly, the statue raised its index finger.
[Correct—]
"!!"
[—is not the case. How unfortunate. Wrong answer.]
Deflated sighs sounded from every direction.
Someone, apparently relieved, even let slip a light laugh.
'Damn it. Don't tell me there's a punishment for getting it wrong?'
[Visitor Kim Ji-san. Do not worry.]
[That was a teaser quiz, so there is no penalty.]
As if it had read my mind, the statue reassured me at once.
Though it felt like my insides had been laid bare by some transcendent power, which actually made it more unpleasant.
[My name is.]
[Curator.]
[That is all.]
What?
[I am the same as every curator in the world.]
[I am responsible for a great many duties — the management of this tower's exhibits, planning, and so on.]
[Ah. I am also in charge of guiding visitors.]
In other words, it went beyond mere connection to the Museum of Wishes — this was an administrator-level entity.
"Then why are you going around looking like that? If you're not that torso-whatever, hurry up and take the costume off."
[There is, of course, a reason I take the form of a torso.]
[This museum encompasses art of every kind, from antiquity to the modern day. I am its living witness.]
"...What is he on about."
The middle-aged man, who had been frowning at the cross-section of the Curator's neck, quickly shut his mouth.
There was simply no communicating with the Curator, who recited only what it wished to say.
[My name is Curator. However.]
[As Visitor Kim Ji-san said, I am also a torso — reduced to a statue with only a body.]
[The plaster dust that keeps falling from my legs is rather a problem, too.]
The Curator brushed off the hem of its robe with a hand.
At the same time, white plaster dust scattered into the air, acrid in my throat.
"Hiik- what the. Is that neck actually real plaster?"
"They must've coated the skin with something. Honestly, pulling pranks like that...."
It's hard to believe that a headless, walking, talking statue is real.
Everyone had made their wishes half in doubt, but even so — that was a statue, wasn't it?
"Wait."
A woman raised her hand amid the murmuring crowd.
Seeing the backpack as big as a house on her shoulders, she looked like a college student.
'No, wait. Do college students carry backpacks around on weekends? And she doesn't quite look like a high schooler either.'
Enough. This isn't the time to play detective.
"A museum, then a tower. Would you explain this properly?"
[Visitor Jang Si-woon. An excellent question.]
Even as the Curator offered praise, the woman only wore an indifferent expression.
She seemed quite young..., yet she was remarkably composed compared to the other visitors.
[This is the Museum of Wishes, one hundred stories tall.]
[In other words, it is both a museum and a tower.]
A hundred stories...?
[The Museum's doors are open only to visitors with desperate wishes.]
[You who received an invitation — you must have made a very desperate wish.]
It was like a stage actor's line delivered to an audience of one.
In truth, this was an opportunity given to every visitor here.
The Curator made it sound as if I were someone special.
[Humans with desperate wishes are countless.]
[But if every human's wish were granted, this world, regrettably, could not be sustained.]
[Moreover, the Museum is not a god, and so it cannot choose among humans.]
Just then, the leaflet floating in midair flew into the Curator's hand.
Rolling the leaflet up, the Curator continued.
[And so, the Museum grants only the wishes of visitors who complete its objective.]
'I could really return to ten years ago? If I just complete the objective...?'
"And what is that objective?"
[See here.]
The middle-aged man who had glared at the Curator earlier pressed for an explanation.
At that, the Curator hurled the rolled-up leaflet into the air.
Fwish-
=================
[Objective: Climb the Museum of Wishes to the 100th Floor]
You have entered the museum of another world.
Complete the task given on each floor of the tower and climb to the final 100th floor.
Reward upon success- Wish fulfillment
Upon failure- Permanent incorporation as a component of the tower
=================
Text lined up across the leaflet, which had grown as large as a banner.
Even as I thought one hundred floors was far too high, with a reward like that, anything felt acceptable.
"That failure part. What does it mean, incorporated as a component of the tower?"
[Components are disassembled, and sometimes reassembled.]
"No — who asked for a definition? I'm asking how! How do we get incorporated?!"
While the visitor shouted in frustration, a chill ran down my spine.
'Components. Components that are disassembled and sometimes recombined. And....'
My gaze went to the Curator's hands.
A torso is a statue with only a trunk. But as I had explained earlier, the Curator was different from an ordinary torso.
It had two hands — hands that could hold a leaflet.
[Failed eliminees are disassembled, and sometimes reassembled. For this tower. No.]
[For the sake of the other visitors who climb the tower seeking their wishes — they are put to appropriate use as the tower's nourishment.]
The Curator raised the hand that had been hidden beneath its sleeve and showed it to the visitors.
My eyes flew wide open. I had been wondering how those hands were sculpted.
'...What is that?'
Unlike the plaster of its body, the Curator's hand was soft human flesh.
As it lifted the hand up high, the wide sleeve of the robe slid down to the Curator's shoulder.
"Kyaaaah-!!"
Below the Curator's plaster shoulder, a human arm was artificially attached.
The joint's thickness didn't quite match, which made it all the more grotesque.
People covered their mouths and screamed.
[Even when disassembled, a component's sense of self is preserved.]
[Infinitely.]
[Eternally.]
"Ah, f—k! Enough of this, let us out already!"
"Mister, stop yelling! Do you not grasp the situation?! This is real!!"
The visitors, plunged into chaos, began to fight.
After seeing the Curator's arm, some people even collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
I roughly wiped my sweat-soaked face with the back of my hand.
I was feigning composure, but there was no hiding my badly trembling legs.
[Well then, dear visitors. I shall see you on the second floor.]
[While you walk the forest, abandon all hope, and may you be with the torso.]
What was this about a forest, I wondered.
The Curator and the leaflet swirled and tangled together, then vanished without a trace.
Once the Curator disappeared, people fell into confusion, and pandemonium broke out.
"Is this insane? I'm going back!"
"Hueeegh...! There has to be an exit somewhere, please!!"
"Everyone quiet down! Don't we have wishes to fulfill?!"
'...I have to climb.'
Ignoring the clamoring visitors, I clenched my fists tight.
There's no option to escape anyway.
Now that it's come to this, all I can do is reach the 100th floor, whatever it takes, and make my wish.
"Excuse me."
The woman with the backpack, the one who looked like a college student, whispered from behind me.
Her name was Jang Si-woon, I think.
"This really isn't a hidden-camera prank, right?"
"There's no point asking me. I'm a participant too."
"True. A headless plaster statue just showed off its human arm — I suppose I really have to believe it now."
Jang Si-woon scratched her head roughly and sighed.
Unlike me, pathetically shaking at the knees, her composure was national-treasure grade.
'Huh....'
Just then, Jang Si-woon's faintly trembling fingers caught my eye.
Her gaze had looked so indifferent that I'd been mistaken.
However calm anyone tried to act, everyone must feel the same in this situation.
Scared.
Terrified.
And yet, desperate all the same.
Of course, I was no different.
'If I fail even once on the way up to the 100th floor, I'll be disassembled like that arm, won't I.'
It would almost be better if my mind were ground away along with my body.
To be used as the tower's component while your sense of self endures for eternity — there's no punishment more horrific.
Just then, a light flashed through Jang Si-woon's placid eyes.
"By the way, how does that kind of knowledge just roll off your tongue? Everyone else here seems to know absolutely nothing about art."
"I just read a lot of art books when I was young."
'Knowledge I'd been trying to erase from my memory. To think the day would come when it would be useful.'
From elementary school through high school, whenever I had a spare moment, I holed up in the library reading books on art.
Even when my friends jeered at me to come play soccer, I paid no mind.
I had no money to buy books, and since I didn't go to academies, I had time to spare.
And on top of that, I didn't want to go home.
Back then, passing time at the library was my greatest hobby.
"Really? I should've read up too. It's going to matter from here on."
Jang Si-woon grumbled in a low voice, regretful.
'Her knowledge may be lacking, but her judgment is quick. She has already deduced that the coming quests will lean toward art.'
Naturally, my thinking matched her deduction.
Given the name museum and the Curator's appearance, the quests would follow that same current, obviously.
RUMBLE-
"?!!"
The ground shook with a tremendous roar.
When cracks even began splitting the earth, everyone descended into bedlam.
And in the blink of an eye, an unbelievable sight unfolded.
"What is this...."
Jang Si-woon's jaw dropped, unable to believe her own eyes. I felt exactly the same.
The hard cement walls and floor vanished, and a darkened forest spread out before us.
'An optical illusion... it's far too late to suspect that now.'
The grass tickling my feet was heavy with the damp of night dew.
The soil, grass, and small stones underfoot. And the dense trees veiling the night sky.
Everything before my eyes truly existed.
"The forest the Curator mentioned."
Still dazed myself, I kept running my hand over the grass, forcing myself to face reality.
There had been a reason it specifically mentioned a forest after saying it would see us on the second floor.
At last, the map for the quest had been created.